I'm a Little Crazy

I am a little crazy.  Well, I could be a lot crazy depending on the circumstance.  Take for instance pushing my buttons before I've even had a cup of coffee, let alone rubbed the crud out of my eyes in the morning.  Stoofy likes to do just that some mornings just to see the end result.  It usually means a fake fight develops into a real fight of epic proportions. 

I'm pretty crazy when it comes to things I'm passionate about.  Sports teams, fairness, my kid, my husband, my car, my ideals, morals and politics.  I can easily launch into a 10 minute tirade about almost anything if I'm passionate enough about it.  Even if I'm only half-ass passionate about a topic, I can still get pretty spun up about it.

This ability to go from 0-100EPM (emotions per minute) can be a great quality.  It can also suck too.  It's one of my many character flaws I'm not interested in changing.  I've just accepted it as my reality, toned it down a touch when necessary, and decided everyone else just needs to deal with it. 

If you're my friend, you're probably my friend because I'm crazy. 

Everyone needs a crazy person in their circle.  Everyone needs one of those crazy friends to stand on a table and call attention to you for your birthday.  Everyone needs someone willing to go out on a limb for you because you're too afraid the limb is too high, too flimsy and too dangerous for you to do it yourself.  Everyone needs a friend willing to purger themselves for you when you get caught burying the body. 

If you're my friend, you already know I'd do all of the above for you and then some.  If you are my friend's enemy, you should be warned.  Because I'm flat out nuts! Anyone that's been on the receiving end of a crazy Betty rant will tell you it's not the place you'd like to be.  The only thing less appealing would be if you were a Somali pirate who captured an American shipping captain and were standing in range of a SEAL's sniper scope. 

So to recap: I'm crazy.  Being crazy isn't always a bad thing.  That is, unless you're an enemy.  Then my craziness is just as bad as Kim Jong-Il.  You don't want to be nuked do you?

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.

I'm One Lucky B!

If you've been reading my blog, you know that I recently got out of the Navy.  And if you've been reading my blog since I started, you also know that I've been crazy (that might not be a strong enough description actually) about looking for a job so, you know, I'm not homeless and the baby has food.  (You know, nothing major or anything.) 

Well, I've been very fortunate in landing a great job in the civilian sector, and it's truly been a major blessing how it's all worked out. 

I'm a firm believe that I'm very lucky.  Not like lucky in that I win the lottery or anything (I wish!), but mostly lucky in timing.  I miss near accidents.  I miss major disasters.  I miss events that I wish I could have been at, only to get an opportunity to have an even better experience (sometimes even behind the scenes) for that missed event!  And just when I think I've hit a bad spot and my luck has run out, I realize (sometimes I have to be reminded and forced to see the positive) that really, it's not that bad and I'm actually very lucky how things work out for me.  (My mom says it’s because when I was very young, like the age Elly is right now, she and my dad took me to Mexico and all these Mexican ladies swarmed me and blessed me.  It freaked my mom out since she didn’t speak Spanish and they kept grabbing at me.  Uh, yeah, I would have flipped out too mom.)

Take for example this whole Navy thing.  I've felt very slighted by the Navy.  I feel like I've been cheated on and just finished divorce proceedings. But now I've just gotten to the next step in the grieving process; I'm not as bitter any more.  (Well, I'm a little bit bitter still.  Just being honest with my friends!) But it's nothing like what it used to be.

Instead, I've taken all my knowledge and experience I gained in the Navy and put it toward getting a new job.  And then as luck would have it (and awesome timing) a series of crazy events lead me to my job today!

First, I was going to move to Washington State.  But I started getting notices that my resume was moving along with jobs in the DC area.  So Stoofy and I decided to try staying put.  I told my supervisor that I was staying in the area and for her to keep her ears open for jobs for me. (And that's called networking folks!  Or nagging depending on your view.) Well, one of my co-workers decided to take it upon himself to cancel an assignment he had no business cancelling without our supervisor's permission.  My supervisor got a call from the canceled event coordinator. 

Well those ladies got to chatting (after a whole lot of yelling at the nimrod who shirked his duty!), and it just so happened that the woman coordinating the event was looking for a journalist for a job position!  Hot damn!  So my supervisor said I've got the perfect girl for you!  And low and behold.... I got my foot in the door.

Now, this isn't exactly success yet.  But it's a start.  You see, there are major budget cuts happening across the board in the federal government.  (And unless you've had your head up your ass for the last few years, you would already know that fact!)  So there was absolutely no guarantee the job they needed to hire someone (like me) into would even exist after a round of budget cuts.  But as it just so happens, my soon-to-be supervisor worked her magic and got approval.  The only hang up was she couldn't hire anyone until the guy still filling the job before me officially left his position, late in November.

Well, that's no problem, since I couldn't take a job until after my final day in the military....LATE IN NOVEMBER!!!  Oh snap!  Another win for the good luck girl! 

We began processing all my hiring paperwork that goes into federal employment after I got a soft job offer.  Processing paperwork to be a government employee is a lot like your paperwork in-process for the military.  The only difference is you don't get a shot in the ass when you become a government employee.  (That should be a selling point when advertising jobs.)

And wouldn't you know it, my paperwork was having issues and it didn't look like I was going to make it by the deadline to start my job on time.  I had until 2:00 pm on a Friday to get everything in so I could start on Monday morning or I’d have to wait two weeks before I could officially start.  I held my breath and sucked it in and just barely got it all in on time!  And thank God I did! 

I started my job just a couple weeks ago and have begun to hit the ground running.  I'm very grateful for my job and the opportunity to get my career going.  And even more so grateful after I found out just last week that had my paperwork been delayed, I wouldn't have a job to start today.  Because they just laid down a hiring freeze.  My job offer would have been frozen and I would have been sitting at home with Elly wondering what the hell am I going to do now!?!?!?!?

So when I say I'm one lucky B, I mean it.  I get things in just the nick of time.  Life seems to work itself out in just the right moments.  And for that, I'm forever grateful!


****Betty's note: My mom set the record straight.  I was actually much closer to Elly's age right now when I was blessed by Mexicans.  She wanted to make sure I got the facts straight.  Side note from Betty's mom: It was Labor Day weekend 1983 in Metamora, Mexico, just across the border from Brownsville, TX.  I guess I need to plan a trip there with Elly ASAP. (Maybe once I actually earn some vacation time!)****

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!

Vanilla Tuna

I'm a part of various groups, whether in person or in the interwebs.  One of my virtual groups of friends is having a Secret Santa party in reality.  It should be a lot of fun because so many of us have met a couple people personally in the group, but not everyone has met everyone personally.  Yet, we're all friends. 

We know certain funny stories about each other, we have a good idea of what our kids like, who our celebrity crushes are, etc.  But if I had to pick one of them out of a line-up, there's about a 50/50 chance I wouldn't even come close! 

And because of this, it makes the Secret Santa aspect of the party that much more fun.  Because you could pick someone that you DON'T EVEN KNOW! So everything about them is pretty much foreign to you.  Talk about the ultimate secret!

I mean I know that A doesn't like the sight of breast feeding.  It totally grosses her out.  B loves to have sex with the windows open so the neighbors get jealous.  C pretty much wants to murder her husband once a week and is looking for volunteers to help bury the body.  And D, well, she's just a trip and is having lots of great sex with her husband. 

The fact of the matter is, I know that J makes great food, K just had a baby and L can put us all to shame with crazy kids stories.  I know who's puking or shitting at any moment in time.  I know who's just had sex, who's constipated, who's two minutes from strangling their kids, and who just put a hex on their neighbor.  (Why we all feel the need to share these intimate details of our lives, no clue.  Maybe it has to do with the fact that we don't all know each other personally.  Maybe after we meet we'll hear less about E's runs.)

What I don't know is whether E would rather have a gift card to Starbucks or a homemade scarf.  I'm not sure if P likes to shop at Walmart or a locally owned store. 

So to help with this, we've all begun to ask random questions about our preferences as a way to know more substantial things about each other.  Today's topic: what's our favorite smell?

My only response is: ANYTHING BUT VANILLA!!!!!  That smell is quite possibly the most popular smell in America and it grosses me out.  And here's why. 

Way back in the day when I first joined the military, I used to really like the smell of vanilla.  The lotions were a nice touch and as a bonus made my skin smooth.  But when I got to my first training location after boot camp, I got my first taste of what the "real Navy" was like.  And after the smell of boot camp funk wore off (there really is a distinctive smell you acquire while in basic training.  It's not really your fault, it just happens and you can't do anything about it.  Same thing happens on deployment.  You basically need to scrap everything afterward and start with fresh clothing after you're completely done.) it was back to wanting to smell pretty... pretty vanilla.

Well, the problem is, in the military you get a cross-cut of the American public.  (The good, the bad, and the fugly.) I just so happened to end up in school with a young woman who didn't really fully understand the concept of personal hygiene.  She didn't understand that you need to take a shower every day, especially after PT.  That you must wash your clothes regularly and that includes towels, sheets, and blankets.  Washing your hands after using the bathroom was even a stretch for her. 

And because of these habits, she ended up being pretty smelly.  I felt bad for her because she got put in a room by herself since no one could stand to live with her because of the stench.  She actually got held up before transferring to her first official assignment until they could teach her the basics of cleanliness.  And when I mean teach her the basics, I mean she was escorted to the shower every day and was watched to make sure she used soap and at least got a PTA (pits, tits, and ass) shower.  She was shown how to pour soap into and how to operate the washer. 

All of this training obviously sank in a bit, because she realized she was smelly.  So what did she do to mask the smell of tuna emanating from her being?  She reached for the most trusted scent in America and doused herself in it daily. 

At this point, the tuna smell was too far settled into everything she owned (they actually had to repaint the walls in her room when she left, and replaced the furniture because it had seeped into the pores).  So the vanilla did absolutely nothing at all for her other than give it a sweet musk additive.

So when I say I want NOTHING to do with the smell of vanilla it's because I think of a big, stinky albacore wafting up from the candle, lotion or body mist.  And I just puke a little in mouth because of it. 

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!