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.  

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.

All-mom pickers

Saturday, I had a mega sale of all of Elly’s old clothes and baby junk.  I started working on sorting all of her stuff about 2 months ago.  (Did I mention I'm a hoarder?)  Needless to say, there was a ton of crap and really had to be sorted out to the various categories of sizes, gear and sleepwear.

Finally, I picked a day and was committed to selling the stuff and making back some of my money.  The only problem is that I happened to pick the hottest f’ing day of the year in Washington D.C. to have a yard sale. 

It was so hot…

How hot was it?

It was so hot a plane sank into the tarmac at Reagan National Airport.  Now if that isn’t freakin’ hot, I don’t know what is!

I had been advertising this sale for three days leading up to the sale.  By Friday when I realized the weatherman was going to be right and I would actually sweat my balls off spending the afternoon outside in the sun, I made the executive decision to move the sale inside.

BRILLIANT!

I had such a great response.  Tons of people.  And by tons of people, I actually grew a bit concerned at one point that I may have exceeded the maximum capacity for fire safety exits in my house! 

But the payoff was great!

Tons of pregnant women made it out searching for great deals and cool A/C.  But with these women came the hagglers.  Now, I understand that haggling in other cultures is very common and actually the norm.  For me, I’m not that used to it.

Thank God my hours invested into reality television paid off again.

Friday night I stayed up late folding clothes, watching the History Channel’s American Pickers.  I established a great cost system that the more you bought the better a deal you got.  Thanks to Frank, that’s the power of bundling. 

I found myself negotiating like Mike:

B: “That’ll be $14.”

Random woman: “$10.”

B: “I’m at $14, you’re at $10, let’s split the difference and it’s $12.”

Random guy: “How much is that?”

B: “$25”

Random guy: “$5?”

B” “Uh, NO! I could do $20.”

Random guy walks away.  Jerk!  Who tries to offer $5 for an exersaucer in great condition?  This is All-mom pickers not Let’s Make a Deal. 

Overall it was a great turn out and yielded great results.  Too bad within 24 hours I turned around and became a mom picker myself and went shopping for Elly’s fall/winter fashion line.  It’s funny how I can make so much money one day and be back to nothing the next all because of my kid. 

Magic Birthday

Today is my sister's Magic Birthday.  (I call it magic, it's apparently supposed to be called a golden birthday... whatever.  I do what I want!)  She's 27 and today's the 27th... get it?  I celebrated my golden birthday a few years ago.  I don't remember it much.  I was probably drunk.  Hey, I was 24, that's what you do when you're still young enough to rebound from a hangover in a day!  (That will not be the case when I celebrate the big 3-0 later this year!)

Anyway, as I sat and thought about my golden birthday and her golden birthday, I thought, how cool is it to celebrate when you're a little older and can remember it?  And then I realized in 33 days my daughter is going to have her magic birthday. 

First and foremost, HOLY SHIT!  How did an entire year blow by me?  How did she get so old so quickly?  It feels like just yesterday that I was walking around with a beach ball under my shirt complaining about my hips being out of place because a fetus was cozied up in my pelvis!  But I still have a month to panic and contemplate how time has passed me by and my daughter has gotten so big...

When I first realized that she would never remember her magic birthday (because it's her first birthday and who remembers that?) I was really sad.  She's still a baby and won't get to enjoy in her magical day because she'll probably be napping, or crying, or wacking something into my face.  I was sad for her.  I never thought of this downside when I thought of all the pluses to having a birthday on the first of the month. 

Having your birthday on the first of the month seems nice.  It's easy to remember.   It's not hard like when I try to remember Stoofy's birthday and get the date mixed up with what date we got married.  (I actually suck at remembering exact dates.  I am pretty good at ballpark estimates when it comes to important dates like that.  God bless Facebook for helping me remember the exact date my husband birthday is!)

But I never realized she'd pretty much forget all about her magic birthday.  *insert pitty party here*

Then I realized it's just up to me to make her birthday magical and special!!  Even though she won't realize this first birthday of hers is her magic birthday, it will be magical for me.  It's a small miracle that I survived a year of motherhood, I didn't murder my husband, he didn't push me down any stairs because I was a crazy mom, and (knock on wood) we haven't had any major catastrophe with Elly!!!! 

So, now I don't feel so bad about her missing her magical birthday.  I'll just make it up to her for every other birthday she has. 

Cup O' Joe

Elly is back on the sucky sleeping schedule again.  I swear that kid goes through sleeping phases like people go through fad diets.  (I don't diet, I just eat cookies.  Lots and lots of cookies!)

What does that mean for me other than my own sleepless nights?  It means my new health insurance company thinks I'm an insomniac for one.   I took a health assessment test for a $35 gift card to be used for medical expenses.  (Why the hell wouldn't I answer 100 questions about me for $35 free? Duh!) It asked how many hours of sleep I get a night, how rested do I feel when I get up for the day, and so on. 

What it doesn't allow for during the questionnaire is a place for you to fill in any kind of explanation behind it.  Like if I was a meth-head and was tweaking every night then of course I wouldn't get any sleep.  (But at least I'd get all the laundry done!)

But what about parents of insomniac kids?  There's no box to check for that.  So instead, I'll now get spammed with a million emails about how not sleeping enough has a poor effect on my health.  No shit.  Now if only there was enough time for a mommy nap time in a day and this wouldn't be a problem.

But yesterday afternoon was the icing on the cake for just how sleepless I've been the last few nights.  At work, I have a Keurig in my "office."  (I say "office" and not office because it's only got three walls and no door, so people can still come in my space willy-nilly whenever they feel like it.  Plus, since I'm a natural loud talker, they can hear pretty much everything I say.)  I drink a lot of coffee and the Keurig gets quite the daily workout. 

It was time for my afternoon cup o' joe pick-me-up.  And as I plopped the little k-cup in and watched the coffee stream into my cup, I realized I needed to up the ante a bit.  So I pulled out the canister of mocha cappuccino mix from the drawer and added a few scoops of that to the coffee for the extra jolt I was going to need to re-read the same story five times for copy edit mistakes.  (I lead a glamorous life!)  

As my coffee finished brewing I started searching for the blue lid to the canister so I could clean up and get on with my afternoon.  But alas, I couldn't find the lid!  (Mind you, the entire coffee making process was done from the comfort of my desk chair.  I didn't move more than 12 inches during the entire process to make this cup of coffee.  How the hell I misplaced the lid I have no idea.)  And as I'm standing up, spinning in circles, cursing myself for being crazy and not able to find the blue lid (I even checked my pockets!) a lady I'd never met before but needed to introduce myself to (and make a good first impression for because I'd be working with her lots in the future) walked in and saw me turning in circles on my own little crazy train.  My entire conversation with her was distracted by the fact that I couldn't find the blue lid to this damn canister!!! 

Finally, as I tried to shoo her away so she wouldn't see how crazy I was, I just got down on the floor and started digging under a cabinet in my "office."  And alas!  I finally found the lid... a GOLD lid.  Why I swore it was blue, I have no idea.  

Clearly, I not only needed my afternoon cup o' joe, but I needed to add another scoop of cappuccino mix to it.  Because my little insomniac is making me crazy!!!!   

Independent Woman

Every time my daughter learns something new I start singing a Destiny's Child song from my high school days.  I sing mostly to myself because 1) I barely remember all the words 2) I can't really sing all that well and would prefer not to scar my child 3) I'm not actually all that happy about why I'm singing.

You see, Elly is only 10.5 months old and the writings on the wall.  (I'm really hitting the DC lyrics hard tonight!  It's about to get Jumpin' Jumpin' in here!) I can tell that I have an extremely rocky road ahead of me as I try to raise my incredibly stubborn, headstrong, independent woman in this world.
 

 

How do I already know this is going to be as fun as traveling over landmines?  Because she already throws fits when you try to help her do something.  She's been walking 2 months already.  When we were in the airport earlier this week and she was starting to walk into stores or other places she shouldn't I responded with a stern "No thank you, this way please" and tried to hold her hand and walk her in a different direction. 

Her response? A full-blown tantrum, complete with arm flailing and writhing out of my hand so she could walk by herself and go where she wanted to go.  She didn't need my help to turn around, she could do it herself.  And there was no way she was going to let mama walk hand-in-hand with her.  She's a big girl and can do it herself.  In fact, she's begun to walk like a model, one hand on her hip, the other extended in the air (Ok, so it looks more like she's about to bust out in song and dance about a little tea pot who's short and stout... but still.)  I'd like to blame the trip to New York City, but no, this is just her spirit.

Another example of her desire to do it her way and refuse help: she had her sippy cup this morning and it was pretty much empty.  Stoofy, myself AND Ms. B all tried to change her sippy cup and give her the other one (the exact same kind of cup, just a different color) with water in it that just happen to be sitting right next to her.  NOT GOING TO HAPPEN.  She at one point swatted at Stoofy when he tried to take the empty cup out of her hand and swap it with the other, full one.  Nope. 

And Ms. B reported today that Elly threw herself to the ground and had a mini-tantrum because she was not allowed to climb up the stairs by herself.  She's been learning how to go up them with Stoofy helping her, but clearly since she's not even a year old yet, climbing stairs on her own is a big no no.  Especially because half our steps in the house are the open back kind.  She could easily squeeze through and fall head first to her demise.  Not really my style of fun. 

But does she care about the scary death trap?  No.  She doesn't want your help going up the stairs because she's already freakin' learned how to do it and can do it herself damn it!!!!  If she could talk already she’d say, “Just stop holding my hand mom and let me do it on my own!”

And that right there is the problem.  Her not wanting to hold my hand in the airport while walking around nearly broke my heart.  I actually felt it break into tiny, little pieces.  (Don't worry, "I'm a Survivor" and I'm not going to give uh...), Yes, I know she's still a baby and she will need me for lots of things for many years (especially since she can't reach the food yet and will need me to at least feed her for awhile longer.  Although today she learned how to feed herself with a spoon.  I'm quickly becoming as obsolete as a payphone). But it kills me to watch her grow up so fast.  It's like I blinked and she's almost an adult! 

I don't know how it even happened.  And because she's so independent I worry she’ll stop needing  me so much sooner than other kids.  Or at least she'll THINK she won't need me so much sooner. 

It looks like I've got two options here: 1) learn to accept the fact that my baby is independent like her mother and doesn't need me in her life anymore or 2) change my parenting technique and hover over her and make her so damn co-dependent that she'll never leave my side. 

Option 2 is sounding less and less crazy every day she learns a new skill. 

Mama Gets a New Look

This week was quite the adventure!!!  Stoofy, Elly and I all had a blast in NYC.  As soon as we got there I hit the ground running and went straight to the hair salon for a brand new 'do.  Since getting out of the Navy, I chopped my hair off.  I just couldn't stand it anymore and I was tired of being Elly's makeshift pull toy.  But this new cut really makes me look cute.  I went from a really nice, edgy cut to a super cute bob that fits my face perfectly.  It doesn't hide my face fat, but it does a nice job of camouflaging it. 

Speaking of camouflage... Stoofy did a great job of adjusting to no camo.  But that doesn't mean he didn't make a few jokes about it to the makeover stylist!  He and I spent most of our time separated until the big makeover reveal so that we'd be surprised with what each other was wearing.  So apparently when he was getting his new outfit, he gave the women a handy fashion tip they even used on the show- if you want to hide all your fatty trouble spots, just wear camo!!!  So there's your Stoofy fashion tip!

Now, we didn't get a whole new wardrobe or anything like that, but we did get a nice outfit, plus a free trip to NYC, and a nice lunch out on the town.  So all in all, a damn good two-day trip!

My dress was a sexy little red and fuchsia number.  I NEVER would have picked something like that out for myself.  One, it was super form-fitting, so I tend to keep my fat ass away from that kind of thing.  Not to mention the colors looked like they wouldn't work together.  But after two pairs of spankx and the help of a giant shoe horn, I was able to stuff slip right into that beauty.  And wouldn't you know it, I looked awesome.  Because it was fitted, it gave my fat rolls a beautiful hourglass shape, the colors popped as vibrant as my personality and it was a gift from the Nate Berkus show.  Who wouldn't love that?!?!?! 

We didn't get to spend more than the 10 minute taped segment with Nate.  Which is a bummer, but his whole production staff were great!!!  They're just the nicest people ever and Elly just loved them all.  In fact, they all loved her too.  (I’m pretty sure most of them offered to kidnap her and keep her as the show’s mascot.  I doubt that’s legal.)  And she actually spent more time with Nate than we did!!!  He even gave her a shout out about how cute he thought she was and how the whole staff wanted to keep her during the show!  Now if that isn't cute, I don't know what is! #stealingmamasthunder #jealousstagemom

I think the most amazing (read scary, terrifying and I must be off my meds to do this) thing was that I allowed the stylist and Nate to tell the whole freakin' world that I'm a size 14/16.  That's right, I just did it again.  I told the whole world what my dress size is.  And honestly, it's not as scary as I thought it would be. 

Mainly because we talked about why my size is so hard to shop for and I realized I can't possibly be the only woman in the world who's a 14/16 and can't find clothes.  I'm a true 14/16.  I'm not a plus sized woman, my proportions aren't really plus sized.  Yes I have big boobs, and yes I have a wonderful layer of insulation around my mid-riff, but I'm not a plus.  I'm just an XL.

And as it turns out, major department stores only carry one 14 and one 16 in each style of dress in their stores.  Why that is, no one knows.  It probably goes back to everyone's supposed to be a size -4 to fit into the clothes they make for my hangers.  But that's why it's hard to find dresses and outfits for my size.  And it took the stylist 3 days to find my outfit.  I don't have 3 days to shop for anything.  Elly gets a little impatient and I don't even have the patience for that kind of marathon shopping. 

So there you have it.  I'm a sexy size 14/16 mama who broadcasted to the world that you can have fluff and still look hot!  You just need a team of hair and makeup specialists and a personal shopper to pull it all off.  So, I'm going to need each and every one of you to share with your friends this awesome blog, so that I can figure out a way to make a living just writing about my life and maybe sharing tips on how to cook, sew, craft and make sure you don't accidently step on your kid so I can have my personal dream team.  Someday this will all pay off.....

New York City

Well, the bags are packed and the business cards are printed off.  I'm ready for NYC! 

We need to wake up at O'Dark thirty, so I really should be in bed right this second.  But I'm just too darn excited!!! 

I can't wait to see the city.  I've never been, so this will be such an awesome experience just for that alone!  I can't wait to see what they do for Stoofy, and I really can't wait to see what they put me in.  I'm nervous and excited but really I'm just happy to have this opportunity.

I'm worried about messing up Elly's schedule, but I also couldn't care less because who knows when I'll be able to bring her back!  I'll take lots of pictures and post a few here. 

I'm also really excited to meet Nate and his whole crew that have been helping to plan and organize this trip for us.  They're really a great bunch of people and it should be lots of fun meeting them.

Time to hit the sheets.  I'll probably want to kill myself in just a few hours when it's time to wake up.  Just remind me that I'm getting pampered for a couple days in NYC!  That should knock the sleepy right out of me!

Temporary Vegetarian

Every so often I end up in a discussion about pregnancy and how much it sucks.  I work in an office with almost all women.  A couple are a little younger than me and the rest are a bit older than me.  Those of us with kids (I'm the youngest with a kid, and Elly is SIGNIFICANTLY younger than the other people's kids) talk about what our experiences were when we were pregnant or in labor.

And these conversations remind me about the things I've pushed out of my mind a bit about being pregnant with Elly.  I haven't forgot these memories yet, hence one of the reasons I blog.  I don't want to forget all of the hell she put me through.

You see, I am a meat eater.  (Take that however you want you sick perv!) I enjoy a giant, medium-rare steak, I love sausage and bacon both for breakfast, and I love to eat turkey sandwiches.  A meal isn't complete without meat.  Without it, it's just a snack. 

That all changed when I became pregnant.  Aside from the fact that EVERYTHING made me blow chunks, meat especially did.  I couldn't walk past the meat counter in a grocery store unless I had my trusty "air sickness bag" with me.  (The grocery store as a whole was pretty dangerous grounds for me, but especially in the meat department.) 

I practically became a vegetarian.  I couldn't stand eating any kinds of beef, chicken, or pork.  And I couldn't eat too much fish (which I didn't want much of in the first place) because of whatever crazy science article I was reading that week and the effects of the fish on my baby.  (My policy was, why bother fucking the kid up in utero?  I needed to wait until the kid was fully baked and then I could start screwing it up... because, you know, it's always the mother's fault.)

It was so disappointing to not even be slightly interested in any of the things I loved to eat.  I actually lost weight before gaining weight while pregnant!  Who knew dividing cells into a new human being would be the best diet around?!?!?!

The only thing I could stand to eat was bacon bits on my pizza (which I ate nearly every other day).  No other meat could be found in my house. 

Fast forward 10 months and I'll wolf down a steak in 5 minutes flat.  I eat hamburger like it's going out of style.  And I pile on extra turkey on my sandwiches.  My herbivore days were just temporary.  THANK GOD!

But Elly, she's still a vegetarian.  No matter what we try to feed her by way of meat, she's not interested.  But that kid will horck down apples, lima beans, broccoli, and strawberries by the fistful.  If you don't speed it up while cutting up the kiwi she'll let you know she's not pleased.  But offer her a bit of pot roast and there's no touching it.  She instead works around the roast and eats the potatoes and carrots.  So for now she's a vegetarian.  (Don't worry, the dog's still a carnivore.  Elly share's the pot roast with the dog!)

I just hope she grows out of it.  I don't know if I could handle a meal without meat!

Pinterest

I just discovered a new amazing thing on the interwebs (You know, other than the other blogs I now follow and the awesome freefringes.com).  It's called Pinterest... and I'm ADDICTED!!!

Whenever I've looked at everyone's facebook statuses and I'm bored that no one has trended anything exciting, and I've run out of interesting news to read on Yahoo and am too lazy to pull up the Defense Department's site, I head over to Pinterest.

If you haven't been, you need to!!!!  If you love to craft, do lots of DIY projects, love to look at all the pretty things in the world you wish you had or could do yourself, then you need Pinterest. 

It seems as though it's becoming more and more popular and more and more addicting... which I love!  The more cool things people "pin" the more cool things I can repin and LOVE!

For example, I just found the most adorable onsie dress that's easy to make at home for Elly's first birthday.  It'll only take a little bit of fabric and a cute onsie and VIOLA! You've got yourself a rockin' birthday outfit! 

Stoofy and I dream of our house if we ever won the lottery.  Well, on Pinterest you can start designing it with all the amazing pictures and ideas. 

I look forward to pinning a few of my ideas for nifty storage and decorating ideas around our new place.  Stoofy probably won't like them, but hey, he'd rather have everything in the house be a shade of brown.  And since I prefer not to live in a make-your-own-UPS-warehouse, I'll go ahead and decide what I'm hanging on the walls.  He'll tell me if he hates it, and I might listen... maybe.

I'm just sayin', aside from this blog and the official Betty facebook page, Pinterest should totally be bookmarked on your web browser.  No really, take a second, and bookmark those three sites right now.

I'll wait....................................................

Um, you forgot this blog!

...............................................................

Ok, now that's better!

If you end up addicted to Pinterest like me, then steer clear of the app.  Because it'll only make your addiction worse.  But if you like a little vice in your life, consider pinning a little Betty to your boards! 

I'll be on TV!

So I feel like every time I try to sit down and write something I get distracted by something shiny.  This week it's been hearing from the producers of the Nate Berkus show.  Who's Nate Berkus?  (Check the link to the left for full details) He's an interior designer who got hooked up with Oprah and ended up getting his own daytime TV show.  And I'm going to be on his show next week (well, the show tapes next week, I have no clue when the actual show will air) to get a makeover!

How in the hell did I get called for a makeover?  Well I won them over with my charm of course!

It all started with my mom being on semi-permanent vacation and not having enough to do but watch daytime TV.  She liked him on Oprah so she checked out his new show that kicked off in September with all the other new fall shows.  She then promptly texted me to tell me to apply for a makeover.

If you have read this blog, you'll know that I got out of the Navy back in November (about 6 weeks ago actually).  And I've realized since getting out (and leading up to getting out), that I suck at being a girl.  I am so used to wearing my hair pulled back all the time, not worrying about what clothes I need to wear for the day because it's the same thing every day (thank you uniform), or even having earrings to wear when I'm not in uniform.  Needless to say, I REALLY NEED A MAKEOVER!!!

So I did what my mother told me to do, and I applied.  It's a really good thing I listened to her, because last week I got a couple calls and emails from one of the show producers!  They wanted to know more about me!

Well after finding out that I'm not only fashion challenged after being militarily reformed for seven years, but that I'm also pretty darn funny they decided to move forward... to the next interview.

And the next interview was actually with Stoofy!!!!  They asked him a ton of questions about me and then they realized that he's a vet too.  And they started asking us both questions about BOTH OF US.

As it turns out, Stoofy and I are a pretty funny couple (when we're not screaming obscenities at each other.)  So it wasn't too big of a surprise this morning when I got the official call that the show is booking our travel arrangements!

So Stoofy, Elly and I are headed to NYC next week for the very first time ever to get a makeover!  (Even Stoofy is getting a makeover!  No more Carhart pants!)  I don't know whether to pluck my eyebrow (yes, eyebrow as in singular as there is only one, I just disguise it by plucking halfway between my eyes) or remove the chipped nail polish from my gnarly toes or just leave it all for them to deal with.

I have absolutely no idea what's going to happen either!  I know we're both getting makeovers, but I don't know what that entails.  I don't know if I'm getting 1-2 outfits, or if I'm coming home with a suitcase full of new things. 

All I know is I'm boarding a plane in a week with my husband and daughter looking ho-hum, and I'll be returning as a superstar!!!  (and hopefully with some makeup and clothing tips so I can recreate this when I get home!)

Wish me luck, and I'll let you know when to watch.  You never know!  My mom could be right, and this could be the next big step for Betty!!!

The Health Insurance Scam

Today I want to pout like a child.  I got my first pay stub from my new job and Uncle Sam took out quite a huge chunk.  It's partially my own doing since I claimed so few exemptions.  I just don't want to get stuck with a bill again this year after last year's mishap.  But my God! 

So I'm feverishly calculating my taxes and deductions.  I also worked out my life insurance policy and retirement fund contributions.  And after that I got the mind-numbing experience of researching health care packages.

Now for you readers in Canada and Russia (and by the way I'm totally stoked about a reader in Russia!  I'm excited about my Canadian fans too, but Russia is much further away, which increases the cool factor.  So thanks for reading!  And become a follower of the blog or at least like me on Facebook! You might get cookies!)  the health care debate in America might be boring to hear about.  Sorry.

There are some major perks to having free health care while in the military.  The main one being it's F-R-E-E!!!  Duh!  But that old adage, "You get what you pay for," is 100% true when it comes to military medical treatment.  Yes, you get assigned a Primary Care Manager, but you rarely see that doctor more than once in all the times you go to medical.  Often you see someone that works for that guy.  Or that guy transfers after your last visit with him.  And you have to hope and dream that every time you go in for a reoccurring issue that the last guy put in detailed notes.  But most likely you have to start all over.

Getting a referral is a bit of a joke some times.  And even when you get the referral, you basically have a better shot of winning the grand prize at the local BINGO hall on Friday night than you do being seen in that month.  When I was pregnant, they weren't going to get me in to see a doctor for my FIRST visit until I was almost 20 weeks!  They just couldn't fit me in.  (Sorry I got knocked up during a high baby-making time frame, but I'd love to be seen by a doctor!)  And I at the paperwork orientation I was one of 2 active duty servicemembers there.  The rest were spouses who had the opportunity to go out into the local area to get treatment if they wanted.  I was stuck.  I had to be seen by the military doctors... when they got around to it. 

So yes, there are some major drawbacks.  Like every problem you have can be treated by staying hydrated and taking Motrin.  (You think I'm joking?)  Or like calling for a mental health appointment because you're about 2 days from a break down and they can fit you in next month. (That's not a joke either.)

But today I found out just how spoiled I was.  Reading through all the health insurance options with my job is overwhelming.  Trying to pick the best plan for the best price is crazy.   There are a million different options.  And trying to find one that is going to cover well baby checkups for Elly, the random sickness appointments for Stoofy, not to mention the near fatal accidents I create for myself at least once a year need to be factored in.  Plus glasses for the family, dental checkups, and prescriptions.  I'll probably need a prescription for anxiety by the time I'm done with all this paperwork!

And trying to figure out PPOs, HMOs, FFSs, FSAs and all the rest of the medical alphabet soup sucks. I wish there was a help calculator where you put in some of your pertinent personal information and then it spits out 2-3 of the best options for you.  Then you review those and voila! You've got the best, most comprehensive medical coverage $193.83 a pay period can buy!

Now all I have to figure out is my tax bracket and how best to not let those jokers on Capitol Hill screw me.  That's probably a lost cause...

Cue the Chipmunk Music

All I want for Christmas is my kid's two front teeth to finish growing in.  Who knew growing teeth is one of the most painful processes as a parent.  Not to mention painful for your kid.  But that last point is obvious because that's what makes it painful for the parent... duh!

Anyway, Elly had one of her front teeth come in just before Thanksgiving time.  And it was a little painful and she was crabby.  But it was manageable.  (Either that, or I've already forgotten how exhausting it was last month.)  But only one of the two of them cut through. 

My first thought was, holy shit! I actually gave birth to a real-life hillbilly.  Great.  I already need to start worrying about braces, baby dentures and if Fixadent is safe for children under the age of one. 

My next thought was, crap! Did she somehow smash her face into something hard enough during the early stages of walking that she already fucked up her grill?  Did she somehow push the tooth back up in her gum?

And you're thinking right now that I'm completely irrational and crazy.  Stoofy says that I'm not crazy, I'm just a psychotic bitch.  He means that in the most funny, loving, tender-hearted way. 

As it turns out, the missing tooth is just a late bloomer.  It decided it wanted to wait a month before it's grand entrance on the scene.  Just in time for Christmas!  Lucky me.

But this tooth is different than all the rest of her three teeth.  This one has come with more than just tears, it's come with blood too.  Twice now I've found her bleeding from the mouth with no tears.  And it's left me wondering is this some sick, elaborate prank? Did some kind of special effects guru break into my room, bloody up my daughter, only to wait for me to find her and start screaming my head off so they can capture the sound for their movie? 

And Stoofy found her bloody during nap time the other day too.  He sent me this little gem of a text:
S- So I just had my first OMG moment as a dad.
B- Oh God, what?
S- I didn't notice it right away when I pulled the bottle out of her mouth.  I looked over and saw blood on her bottle so I looked at her and she had blood on her chin and on her binkie so I tried looking in her mouth and she freaked out.  She was finally falling asleep so I cleaned off her face and looked again and saw nothing.  But kids don't just bleed for no reason and I still don't know what it is.  But I don't see any more blood. 

And for me, this is victory!  Finally, I'm not the only one freaking out (and for Stoofy, that's the closest he gets to a freak out) over something Elly just did!  On the other hand, I'm sad that my poor little baby girl is bleeding from her mouth. 

Then add in the fact that she's in pain and fussy all day and all night long and it makes for a very long, long, LONG process just for one little chomper.  I just want that tooth to finally break through so we can get over this hump.... until the next tooth starts forcing its way out of the gum line. But for now, I'll just keep singing in my chipmunk voice. 

A Few of My Favorite Things

In the spirit of end of year review mania that seems to hit our country about this time every year, I figured I'd jump on board.  And as a side note: until I started working in news I never knew why every single tv, radio, paper, magazine, etc. puts out a best of at the end of the year... until I wanted some down time around the holidays too.  So what's the easiest way to create that for yourself around the holidays?  Just rehash all the shit you've already done and call it "new"s. 

Anyway, even though I've only been a part of the blogosphere since July (and I took that trip to Jupiter, aka fell off the blogging planet) I still feel like I've got some gems in my archives.

So here are a few of my favorite things (in no particular order):

1) Breastfed Thighs
I'll do my best to keep the positive about my thighs come the end of January.  That's inevitably when swimsuit shopping season begins and I'd much rather slice my left hand off with a circular saw than expose my thighs to the world (or expose the world to my thighs depending on how you look at it). 

2) What Did I Step In?
I feel like I step in a pile of shit every week.  Some weeks are shittier than others.  But this one just tops them all.  I mean, seriously.  What the hell is wrong with people?  Clearly advertising geniuses know how to plug their products with cute babies.  Because people will literally look past whatever shit you've got when there's a cute baby to look at instead. 

3) Got Milk?

This is actually a blog from my early days.  I hadn't really introduced everyone to Abby yet.  But I realized since I talked about her so much as a friend, that she just needed to be named and be a full-blown character in my daily crazy.  The main part of the blog really was word for word an email I sent her after being fascinated and disgusted by my cow-like ability.  And although I've stopped breastfeeding, I'm grateful for having endured that crazy shit for as long as I did for Elly.  She'd better be a grateful little kid when she grows up or else! 

 

4) Losing My Hair.. and Marbles

I still chuckle a little every time I read this.  And then the chuckles are drowned out by my tears of sadness over my awful hair.  I have had it cut into a nice, hot-mom cut.  So at least my hair is a lot more manageable than when it was longer.  And by the way, I STILL haven't found that freakin' calendar yet! 

 

5) Tinkling

I actually have to go use the little girl's room right now.  So I'd better stop what I'm doing and take a break or else I may have a code yellow alert!

 

6) In Search Of...

It still truly amazes me how your body completely changes when you're pregnant.  And then morphs into something completely different after the baby.  I'll never understand people (specifically insensitive asshole men) who say, oh you're just lazy that's why you don't have the exact same body after having the baby.  Uh newsflash dumbass, it doesn't work like that.  Not only am I searching for my ass, I also grew bigger feet.  No amount of zumba is going to fix that shit! 

7) Being an Adult Rocks!

I crack up every time I eat a deli sandwich now because I only think of windshield meat.  If you ever end up tossing turkey on someone's car and they eat it, please let me know!!!! And if you do witness that, I hope you scream at them "BEING AN ADULT ROCKS!!!"

8)BOOBS!

This is still one of my all-time favorites.  Because I am so impressed at how many different ways I could work the word boobs into the blog.  And because of that, I actually had a few people stumble upon my blog because of their key word searches.  Here's what can land you in Betty's world if you google it: "Big Milk Boobs," "Boobs," and my personal favorite "Boobs Rock the World."  Yes, yes they do! (PS, I'd love to know who googled "I'm not doing that" and found me!!!  LOL! What the hell aren't they willing to do I wonder!)

9) Vanilla Tuna

There are some people in this world you meet and never remember again.  And then there are some people that leave a lasting impression on you for the rest of your life.  The stinky girl in my Navy school is one of those people I'll never forget.... and I'm so grossed out by it!

10) Caught Red Handed

Elly just kills me some days.  Every day she's learning, exploring, and absorbing new information.  She amazes me... right up until she's caught red handed doing something shouldn't have done but has no idea that it was a no-no.  I clearly have a long road ahead of me teaching her important life-lessons.  And I feel like a lot of them are going to be really messy!

11) Pumpkin Pie and Jail Time

What's terrible about this pregnancy memory is that even though pumpkin pie is my absolute FAVORITE dessert and it's what I love more than anything for my birthday cake, I still haven't had a slice in 2011!  Sad :-( I better get on that before the year is over and I better make sure I don't go to jail getting pumpkin pie!

12)   That's Not Fair

The phrase "That's Not Fair" could quite possibly be one of the most famous sayings heard in my house growing up.  Either (or in my opinion, mostly) my sister or me would utter that phrase whenever we had felt slighted.  Our mother was very careful to make sure that things were as fair as you can make them for two completely different-minded children constantly at each other's throats.  So I feel like because of that, I have an obsession to try and make things as far as possible in the world when I can.  However, there are things that just can't be helped.  Like the fact that Snookie makes millions more than I do.

Well there you have it!  Betty's favorites of 2011.  I can't even imagine how exciting 2012 will be!  In just a few short months Elly will be a year old, Stoofy and I will celebrate our 6th wedding anniversary, I'll go on at least 12 tirades threatening to kick someone in their shins, and on top of that, I've got the regular comings and goings of life to chronicle. 

Please be sure to follow me on Facebook, become a fan of this blog, and most importantly TELL YOUR FRIENDS!  I am a narcissist and I need constant positive approval.  So the more people who like me, the better I feel.  JOKING, but not really.  Force your friends to like me if you have to.  It's fine, I completely approve of it!

And I'll have plenty more to add before the year is over... but until then, thanks for enjoying 2011 with me!

Caught Red Handed

This week (actually the last 2 days) I've made some major rookie mom mistakes!  The first being way worst than the second.  I'll start with the lesser of two evils first.

Tonight I had to run a few errands.  I knew it was close to Elly's bedtime, but I had no choice.  I have to do what I have to do!  So I packed her up and headed on my way.  I barely made it a half mile before she started screaming.  She's screaming because it's nearly bed time and she wants to be rocked to sleep with all her usual night time fanfare.  None of this bundled and tied into a carseat crap.  And what was my rookie mistake?  Not having a freakin' binkie!

Man did I swear up a storm at myself.  I mean, it's not like I don't have the mom purse (you know what I'm talking about!  That jumbo-sized monstrosity you lug around to haul all the shit you can't fit into the diaper bag because your husband packed retarded shit in the diaper bag and you're too exhausted to fight him on it so you just stick it all in your purse instead? Yeah, that thing.) on the front seat.  Yet, there's not one single binkie to be found. 

You want to know where they were?  Four of them were lined up next to each other on the bedside table ready for night time combat ops (or you know, a little thing normal parents like to call bed time). 

So what did I do?  I just endured it.  That's right.  There's nothing I could do but suck it up.  No speeding, no dilly-dallying or chit-chatting.  Just there, pick up stuff, and go.  Because she's in the back seat wailing! 

Can you say MOM OF THE YEAR?

But the big kahuna of the week is way worse.  Yesterday, in all my wonderful glory, I put Elly in her make-shift play area.  It's a good play area for her with lots of space and toys to play with.  We've blocked off the Christmas tree and she can't get out to freedom (aka, the stairs).  And so I put her in her area and turned my back for a minute. 

EP-IC MIS-TA-KE!!!!!

I all of a sudden here a splat and her playing with what sounds to be a solo cup.  Now this is something that's my own fault.  Stoofy and I have gotten in the habit of giving her one to play with.  So to her it's a toy.  For us it's cheap entertainment for 10 minutes. 

Turns out I didn't do a great job inspecting the living room before I turned it into her play area.  There was a wayward half-cup of red Koolaide.  And Elly got her grubby little hands all over it!

When I first saw her I started to freak out because she was splattered head to toe in red.  My first thought was Red= Dead.  So I scoop her up and checked for bleeding.  Nope, nothing. 

And then the realization that I'll be replacing carpet hits me and I look around to see what happened.  I grab Elly's hands and see them clearly stained red.  The white/beige carpet is a nice hue of pink.  And one of the throw pillows is a very festive shade of red to complement the green and white stripes the manufacture meant for it to have. 

Awesome.  Not only do I suck as a mom, I now suck as a friend and roommate too.  Triple wammie!  I think that means I've Pressed my Luck and lost.  FML.

And of course all of this happens minutes before I have to run out the door to be somewhere to meet people.  Clearly this is one of those moments where you realize being a mom is great... just not every single second of every single day.  And why the hell does this shit have to happen when dad's not around? 

Needless to say I'm now a proud promoter of the powers of Oxyclean.  If you catch your kid red handed and need to get the Koolaide up, just think of Billy Mays.  Since he's obviously looking down from heaven for all us rookie moms out there.

Quit Your Bitching

No seriously.  Just quit your bitching right now.  Whatever you're whining and complaining about right now isn't that bad.  Unless you're complaining about someone's life in mortal danger, you don't have it nearly as bad as someone else this holiday season. 

Overall, this has been an incredibly hard year for me and Stoofy.  Probably the hardest year of our lives.  And if it weren't for Elly, we both agree this year could make it to the top of the list of worst years ever.  No joke.  Yet, we've got our health.  We haven't gone completely bankrupt.  We've managed to get through our hard times and things seem to finally be picking up and tides have turned.

Abby's been having a rough go of things this week as well.  There's nothing like waking up one morning and not being sure if the sky is really blue, if up is actually up and if there's anything in this world you can actually trust and believe in.

I've got another friend whose father was nearly blind, had surgery for his eye and ended up coming through great.  That is, until he got in a very serious car crash this last week.  He's got some very serious injuries and on top of that, his eye surgery from earlier this year could be seriously affected. 

But this weekend has been one of the hardest for one of Stoofy's friends.  God bless my husband.  He did something heroic that not everyone can say they've done.  He actually saved a friend's life.  His friend has been having a rough go of it for YEARS. 

He's an Army vet with very severe PTSD.  He's had some seriously bad breaks.  His ex-wife left him with 4 kids (not all of which are his) as she went on a multi-state crime spree and ended up in federal prison.  His mom, who he cares for,  has had cancer.  And he's having an incredibly hard time keeping a job.  So of course that means he's not making ends meet. 

His story will make you cry.  It makes me cry every time I think about it.  And Friday night he finally had enough.  He began saying his goodbyes to the world.  And that included my husband.  But Stoofy recognized the signs and immediately went to his house.  Thank God he did.  Because without Stoofy, his friend would have ended his life.  His reasoning is that his kids would at least get more from social security than what he could provide for them.  He couldn't even afford to send them to a Christmas party for $3 each this year. 

He finally had enough and was ready to check out.  Without Stoofy, he would have.  But my husband got there with enough time to take the gun away from him.  And he and I have been working feverishly the last couple of days to get him help. 

Because there is nothing worse in this world than to know one of our true American heroes, who has sacrificed his life for our country, can't provide for his young children.  That we as Americans have let him slip through the cracks.  Our government, and the system Congress keeps fucking up daily, has failed him greatly.

So for God's sake, before you start complaining that you don't have enough time to finish that last batch of cookies or that you ran out of bows for your kid's presents, just shut the hell up.  Because you have nothing to complain about. 

Elly's New Friend

So Elly has a new friend.  Actually a couple new friends.  You may be wondering how the hell does a 9 month old have so many friends?  Well, don't worry.

One is Mickey Mouse.  And not the one you and I grew up on.  This one is a digital CG animated one who sings "Hot dog, hot dog, hot diggity dog!" (The tune is actually pretty catchy.  So much so I googled the words so I could sing it right because there's nothing more annoying than making a fool out of yourself singing a children's song wrong.)

And I mean "Oh boy!" (please read that in your high-pitched Mickey Mouse voice) is the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse one of her favorite shows.  For being so young I'm worried about her watching any kind of TV, yet she seems to really enjoy MMCH so much that I find I give in to it.  That and it's sucked me in.  Disney bastards. (please read that with a gruff, annoyed mom voice.)

Her other new friend is my savior! She's Ms. B and she's Elly's care giver when Stoofy and I are at work.  I knew she was the one when Elly slobbered all over her face upon meeting her.  Not to mention that Ms. B didn't seem to mind one bit! 

Ms. B is a God send for me!  She makes my days easier since I don't have to worry about Elly every single second I'm away from her.  (And let's be honest, of course I'm going to, but the level and brain power that I use to worry is much less because of Ms. B.)

She helps me keep track of what Elly's been eating.  How much she's been sleeping (or rather, not sleeping), and just entertaining me with videos of my daughter having laughing fits at the dog! 

Ms. B even made christmas ornaments with Elly for us!  I couldn't be more pleased! 

And what's crazy about the whole situation, is that originally Elly was going to be watched by another friend of mine.  But after she found new employment (2 weeks before I started my new job), we were back to square one.  I had a minor panic attack (not that I fault my friend, but the timing was pretty fucking scary!  I'm pretty much anti-major change), but Ms. B was there to step up to the plate I like to call Ms. Bakedgood's Wild Ride!

So now she's got a total of nine friends: Mumma, Dadda, Mema, Aunt Abby, Charlie, Moxie, TT, and Mickey and now Ms. B.  I can't wait to meet her 10 month friend!

Back From Jupiter

Well, I'm officially back from my month-long trip to Jupiter and my mini trip to the moon.  Obviously that's where I've been since I haven't been here in FOR-EV-ER (said in the Smalls from Sandlot voice).  And for that I apologize!

A lot has been happening and it's been exciting and overwhelming.  I have about 15 stories, tales, and adventures that are sitting half finished just waiting for the finishing touches. (For some of them I'll just scrape off the mold and call it good, like what you do with old cheese.)  Yet, I seem to keep getting pulled away by a force of nature from them.

It might have to do with Elly constantly yanking my hair and face for attention, or the fact that I just started a new job.  Or maybe that Stoofy also just started a new job.  Anyway, let me get hard to work today on those riviting stories of technicolor poop, working mom's guilt, how I suck at time management, Elly's latest firsts, Elly gets a new friend, and the crem de la crem... meeting the General of my dreams! 

So stay tuned, there's lots to come!  I promise to keep you entertained through the holidays.  And feel free to share my stories with your families this holiday season! ;-) Don't forget, I love shameless promotion!

I Have a Confession

Today I made a pretty major confession to Abby.  She and I (now that we're all roommates) gab often when we catch each other in the evenings.  We like to catch up and talk about girl things.  You know... the latest reality show junk, politics and how things are going down the shitter, sports (What? girls like sports!  Especially hockey!), and of course, Elly! 

We also talk often of our beauty regiments because honestly, we’re not getting any younger.  So of course, gray hair came up in the conversation.  I told her how every time someone cuts my hair, I request they check for grays.  Abby informed me that one of Bif's jobs is to be on gray hair lookout.  (Not really sure if he likes that job, but it comes with the boyfriend territory.  Prepares a man for much worse during marriage.  I'm just sayin'...)

His other job is to help knead the knots out of her ass. 

Yeah, you heard me right.  And no, it's not a sexual thing.  I have the same damn problem.  I make Stoofy help massage my flabby ass often.  You see, there's a pinched nerve deep in the fatty tissue that is my buttocks. 

I think I read a long while ago (maybe like 10 years ago in health class) that women commonly have problems like this because of the way their nerves run through their pelvis.  The shape of a woman's pelvis is different from a man's to make room for pushing a watermelon through her cu-ca during child birth.  Basically to sum it all up, shit gets pinched. (Note: I am not a medical expert.  If you try to use this as your own personal web-MD, I’ll laugh at you and call you a moron.  If you have a problem, go to the doctor dumbass.)

WARNING: the next part is going to get real, folks!

My ass has been acting up pretty bad this last week.  I got so desperate that I began to get creative with objects to help alleviate the pressure.  (Stoofy's been working long hours and has no desire to punch his knuckles into my butt.)  I found the most perfect thing in the whole house!  It's seriously an object no woman should ever be without!  (Especially if your man's not around to help!)

NO YOU PERV! Get your mind out of the gutter!

It's a spatula! 

Yup, I was so desperate the other day in the kitchen that I whipped open the kitchen drawers and looked for something hard but gentle, long but thick, and pointy enough to get the job done.  It just so happens that Abby has the most perfect spatula in her drawer and I snagged that bitch and immediately plunged it into the right side of my ass. 

And wouldn't you know, it did the trick!  That was the most relief I've had in days.  I finally got full feeling back to my leg, no pinched pain radiating from the deepest of my pelvis. 

After I was done, I did the right thing and threw it into the dishwasher to be sanitized.  Because even though I didn't do anything inappropriate and I had clothes on the whole time, it seemed incredibly necessary.

I also had no intentions of telling Abby.  Because even those she's seen just about every inch of my body while watching me give birth to Elly, and I've witnessed her changing her pants in the front seat of my car, there's still some things that should probably be left unsaid even amongst your very best friends.

Well.... until today.  When she mentioned that Bif was on butt patrol as well as hair lookout.  I couldn't help but fess up to her that if he's not around, the best tool to help with the pain was her spatula.  To which she busted up laughing uncontrollably because honestly, how ridiculous is it that your roommate just fessed up to using the kitchen utensil you use to flip flapjacks on their ass to also reduce pain and pressure?  It's pretty absurd. 

But I felt a lot better after confession.  And that's what's good about confessing things.  It gets it off your chest and now she'll understand why she just got a brand new spatula without my having to lie.  And I’ll know where it went to if I don’t see Bif around for a few days and there haven’t been any pancakes around.

Christmas Shopping

Now that it's November, it's time to get down to serious business... Christmas shopping.  Don't get me wrong, I will be celebrating November in all its glory all month long and I do NOT do anything Christmasy until at LEAST the day after Thanksgiving.

I'm very particular about this for a few reasons.  The most important is that my birthday is at the end of November and I have no intention of getting into the Christmas spirit until AFTER the best day of the year.  This year it rocks even more because while you're all eating your Thanksgiving dinner, I'll be eating my BIRTHDAY FEAST!  (In case you can't figure out the most obvious hints here, my birthday falls on Thanksgiving day this year. I can message you my address for birthday cards if you'd like! :-D ) 

But the one Christmas thing I do take advantage of during the last month of fall (my favorite season, which is another reason I try to prolong my love of November) is the Christmas shopping deals.  I have no choice because the damn retailers force you to think about Christmas starting in August.  (I wish that was a lie, but I saw Christmas lights at home depot in August.  I'm just sayin'... fucking corporate America!) 

This year is even more exciting because we have Elly to shop for.  This means more toys!  I say more toys because last year Stoofy and I got each other legos.  What can I say, we're big kids. 

We already got her the first of a couple gifts.  I have no intention of going overboard since she'll barely be 10 months old at Christmas.  What does she even know about getting gifts yet?  Plus, I need to take advantage of the few years I have before she can talk and then demand what she wants from Santa.  Plus I buy something for her nearly every time I leave the house.  To her, every day is Christmas. 

But to be honest, I was SO EXCITIED when the Toys R Us Christmas catalog arrived at our front doorstep!!!  I flipped through all of those pages making a mental list of all the things I wanted.  I mean I wanted to get Elly, you know, so I could play with her. 

There were oodles of baby toys, but I didn't stop there.  I couldn't help but love the Kitchen Aide all-in-one kitchen and matching refrigerator and washer/dryer set, the craftsman work bench complete with toy chain saw and tool belt, and the ultimate Barbie dream house and really everything Barbie.  (It blows my mind that the family camper is $75 by the way.) Plus thousands and thousands of Lego pieces all waiting for me to assemble into the most elaborate of creations.

I just kept making a mental note of all the things I wanted... for Elly of course.  And that's when I realized how happy I was to have a little girl.  Because she can have the tea set and the tool belt and we can play together!  (That and I can pass off all the toys I want to play with as toys for her.)

Like I said, I was super excited about the mega toy catalog.  Elly was excited too.... she had a blast ripping the paper to shreds and eating it.  Let's hope one day she enjoys picking out toys as much as I do, but not too soon.  My budget might not be able to handle that!