Lasting impression

There's no doubt I'm leaving a lasting impression on my kid.  Isn't that the whole point as a parent?  To teach your kid important things so they grow up to be self-sufficient, well-rounded, and overall good citizens.  Even if you suck as a parent, you’re leaving a lasting impression.  If you give your child up for adoption, that's still leaving him/her with a lasting impression.  You leave an impression even if you're never around.  It's not a great impression, but nonetheless, it's an impression that'll last with a person forever.

Every day I worry about what kind of things I'm teaching Elly and what life skills she's learning.  This morning, for example, I taught her that that when mumma is trying to get dressed in the morning and you don't want to keep sleeping, you can entertain yourself with a cupboard full of pads, tampons and toilet paper.

What can I say?  They're soft, colorful toys that kept her busy long enough for me to get dressed uninterrupted this morning.  (Mom fail.)

On the other hand, we've been teaching her sign language and trying hard to get her to talk.  Don't get me wrong, she talks, I just don't speak babble all that well.  I prefer English.  Again, I'm trying to teach her to assimilate!  She's picked up a couple more signs and knows when to tell us she wants to eat.  Which is every moment of the day. (Fatty!)

She knows the word up and I swear she was saying it as she climbed up the stairs.  Every step she climbed I said “up,” she said “yup.”  She knows the word no and doesn't say it yet (thank god).  But she knows what it means.  Which is good, because I'm pretty sure 90% of kids today don't hear that nearly enough.  Their impression of 'no' is to keep asking for it until you hear ‘yes.’  Basically they've learned the "wear them down" method.

So yes.  I'm leaving quite a few lasting impressions on her.  But the one that makes me cry every time I see it is the one I never intended. 

A couple weeks ago, she and I were playing/lounging on the couch.  She likes to run around on it like it's her personal obstacle course.  Well, she was about to slip and fall off of it.  So what do I do? Instantly grab her to brace her from the fall of course.  That's what good mothers do- save their kids from peril. 

But what did I really do? Instead, I gouged the crap out of her little arm with my extra long finger nail. (I clipped them down that night!)  I drew blood, she sobbed.  I cried harder and louder.  And once the blood and her tears stopped, my guilt started to bubble over.

Every day since then, I look at her little arm and want to cry. (I’m tearing up right now.)  There's still a small scar on her arm.  I want to try every scar cream and potion on the market to erase it.  I don’t want her to have something so lasting on her perfect little skin so soon in life.  I know she’ll fall down plenty in her life.  And I’ll be there to pick her up, but it’s too soon for her to feel that kind of pain.

Every time I look at it, I feel the guilt of not being fast enough to catch her.  Instead of saving her, I hurt her.  I pray it keeps fading.  I pray that the scar eventually goes away and doesn't stay with her forever.  Hurting her is not a lasting impression I'd like to make. 

Pass me a bottle...

I need a drink!  Seriously.  Wow.  I just got a major life jolt this morning.  And it sucks. 

You see, I'm plummeting head-first toward 30.  At first this wasn't a big deal to me.  And for the last few years I didn't even think it would phase me.  But the faster it approaches, the more insane I get.  I mean, I just feel old most days.

I've noticed I now listen to talk/news radio in the mornings rather than jamming to music.  I've realized that getting that bit of extra news, weather and traffic update in the morning is useful.  Listening to Fergie sing about her lumps isn't as much.

I crochet.  Which isn't a big deal.  But I do it to pass time and try and create warmer things in the house for winter time rather than spending lots of money on blankets.  It's just easier and cheaper to do make it myself.  (Plus then I'm not funding the damn Chinese take-over of America!)

I bake things from scratch like my great-grandmother did.  I complain about our country and its economy.  I try hard to be fiscally responsible because that's what adults are supposed to do.  I dread doing laundry and cleaning now because at the end of the day I'm drained.  Not because I don't like my job, but because it mentally zaps me. 

I complain about kids today.  I think and worry about investments and retirement plans.  I'm concerned about heart disease since it's a leading killer of women.  I think about how much fiber I get in my diet. 

I check my head every morning for gray hair.

I play BINGO on a Friday night.  I update my cell phone's operating software on a Saturday night. 

Clipping coupons is an exciting thing to do on Sunday morning.  And I get excited when I can match up a BOGO and store coupon on a product that's already on sale. 

I'm just flat out old!  This is how my mind works.  I never thought 10 years ago that this would be what excites me at 30.  I used to care more about what kind of car I would get to drive or what kind of glamorous parties I'd get to go to.  Not whether or not my clothes are easy to wash in case Elly splatters some crap on me at dinner.

The one thing I've always been able to hold onto through my fears of growing closer to senior citizenship was that at least I still had my hair.  And at least it wasn't gray... yet. 

Well this morning, during my morning beauty routine, I found it.  My very first gray hair.  Don't worry, I already tried to rationalize that it might be one of the few blond natural highlights I have in my medium-brown hair.  It's not. 

It's gray from the root to about two and a half inches up the shaft of the hair.  I was pretty rushed this morning, so I saved it on my vanity so I can look at it under a different light tonight when I get home.  Just to make sure. 

I haven't dyed my hair in about seven years.  I know that sounds crazy, but I really do like my natural hair color.  I've always said that I wasn't going to dye my hair until it got gray.  Well, it's about time to start thinking about what color I want.  Because by the end of the year I'll probably have a full head of salt-white hair.  I could probably go with a nice shade of blue to fit in with the BINGO crowd.  But that might be pushing it. 

One thing is for sure, I need a drink.  Just pass me a bottle.  It doesn't matter what it is, as long as it's a close match to my natural color!

Found on Craigslist

Abby and I were hanging out not too long ago.  We were talking about one of our mutal friends (check out her blog and website here) and how much we missed her and how big her daughter was getting.  And I mentioned that I wanted to get together with our friend and her daughter for a play date and to catch up since it's been what feels like a decade since we last saw each other.

Abby, however, realized she didn't have a kid to bring to the playdate.  So what's a girl to do? Post an ad on craigslist!  Here's the actual ad (with weblink!) she placed on CL. 

Seeking rental toddler for playdate to keep up with my "mommy friends" (Alexandria, VA)

---

I am looking to borrow a well-behaved one to two-year-old child for an upcoming afternoon playdate. Just looking to borrow one for a few hours, and I'll return them unscathed and totally ready for nap time. I am a 28-year-old professional female, highly responsible and great with children, but am woefully unmarried and without children. Essentially this means I have been barred from all "mommy events," pending pregnancy, adoption, or the acquisition of a foster child. Apparently my toddler-aged golden retriever isn't hip enough to score an invite (I blame her, not my useless uterus). Despite my marital and uterine misfortune, I would love to close that mommy/non-mommy gap and actually get to hang out with my friends again. So if you're sick to death of your child and need some breathing room, pawn her off on me for a few hours some Saturday. You get a break, your kid gets some playtime, and I get the sweet satisfaction of not being labeled a social outcast for my inability to find a suitable husband. Win-win-win. Thanks!

http://washingtondc.craigslist.org/nva/hss/2988338864.html

We're happy to report that no one actually responded to the ad.  Thank God!  But if they did, you bet I'd be all over that for blog material!

Shocked face

I'm kind of a hairy woman.  I'm pretty sure I've stated this a few times before.  And I'm pretty sure there are some baby-faced men out there jealous of my facial hair.  I mean, I grow a pretty wicked wostache, or as Abby calls it- a WHOAstache.  (That would be a woman's mustache.  Yes it sounds like a stupid word, but compared to a woman who actually has a moustache, it's really not that bad.  It gives the hairy facial feature a little bit of wimsy if you ask me.)

I also have a unibrow.  It's been on my face for many years, but I do a decent job at maintaining it into two neatly shaped brows.

During one of my beautifying regiments last night, I was pretty sure I over plucked my eyebrow.  I was really worried I would have a semi-permanent surprised look on my face for awhile.  And then I remembered I grow hair faster than a chia pet. 

So by morning, my eyebrow would be repaired! (probably one of the only times I have ever really been happy that I grow hair that fast.)

I realized all of that while I was waiting for the timer to go off on my depilatory cream treatment on my lip.  If you have the same problem as I do, I recommend Olay Smooth Finish Facial Hair Removal Duo. And no, I'm not getting any royalties for advertising their product.  (Although, maybe if enough people talk about this blog and share it, I could! Just sayin'.)  Anyway, these are the types of things I think about when I'm removing hair. 

I think about how much it sucks.  I think about how much I hate summer and am already dreading its arrival for the year.  I know you're saying, "But summer is the best!  Summer is barbeques, baseball games, swimming..."  All of which require shaved legs.  Yeah, that sucks.

I think this is why I like that I'm from Michigan.  There, summer isn't very long.  And it's not always hot.  And then it goes straight back to the "no shave" time of year.  In fact, I'm pretty sure I've been told by my mom in the past that it's fine because it helps keep your socks up in the winter.  Now if that's not encouraging women not to shave, I don't know what is!

I may hate that I'm hairy most days, but in those unfortunate, infrequent moments when I pluck myself into a surprised mime face, it's nice to know I can grow that back before breakfast and no one is the wiser. 

Panda love and social media

I'm a lover of social media.  It might have something to do with the fact that I've found a way to make a partial living off of my social media skills.  I look forward to making more of my living from my ability to like, share, comment, and retweet.  And whether you like it or not, social media isn't going away.  It may change and morph into something different, but the general concept isn't going away.

You're always going to know what is going on in someone else's life, for better or for worse.

You know what? That's just fine with me! 

You know why?  Because it means job growth! Yay!!!

But even I draw a line when it comes to TMI in the social media realm.  And last night I finally figured out what that line was.

Recently I've discovered I'm old.  I listen to news/talk radio on my way to work.  Sometimes I listen to it on my way home, too.  I get sucked into a story I hear is coming up so I just leave the station be so I can hear about the weather, traffic and details on the story that intrigues me.

Yesterday, while driving home, I heard a teaser that really threw me through a loop.  I almost changed the station because I was so miffed by the topic.  But it's like a bad car accident; you just can't divert your eyes.  Rubbernecking is human.  So I listened for the story.

The topic?  The panda at the national zoo in DC was getting artificially inseminated.  Ok, not too much of a gross-out, big deal there.  But wait!

YOU CAN WATCH/FOLLOW THE WHOLE AI PROCESS LIVE ON TWITTER!!!!! 

My god!  Are you serious?  Have we really gotten to the point in our society where we now need to watch Panda Porn on our various social media apps on our smart phones?  Really people?!?!?!!?!

Is this really the best use of social media?  I mean, I get it that we could use a few more pandas in the world.  And I know that the two at the zoo are having their own love spat right now and science and technology needs to lend a helping hand.  But do we need to watch the turkey baster do its thing?  Really? 

There is a fine line between sharing your life with the public and sharing what your bathroom toilet looks like while you try to take a rockin' picture of your "duck face" pose.  Honestly, there's no need to do that.  I don't care if you're texting people while you're on the pot.  I don't get bothered by the idea that you respond to facebook posts when you should be focusing on not missing the bowl.  But keep that information to yourself.  That's what makes it great.  I don't care that you're doing that, because I don't know that you're doing that!!!

But the fact of the matter still remains that we as Americans made it possible to watch an animal get artificially inseminated.  They don't even do that on National Geographic.  Come on folks!  GEEEEEEZUS!

Let's have a little social media decorum.  I'm pretty sure Mei Xiang would appreciate it!

AWOL

I'm sure you've noticed.... I've been AWOL lately.  (For you non-military folks, AWOL= absent without leave.)

Turns out that by the time I'm done assigning, managing, reading, writing, assembling, editing, re-editing, re-re-editing and sending off a newspaper, I'm pretty much mentally pooped out.  By Friday, I've got no more funny left in me. 

Ok, that's not completely true.  I'm pretty much funny all the time, but it's whether or not I want to share my funny that becomes a problem.  And really, I get too tired and lazy. (Plus the thought of editing my blog after editing all day long makes my head explode.  So much so, that I started un-friending people on Facebook because of their poor grammar.  My brain couldn't take deciphering their crap any longer.)

So here's what has happened in the last four months that I need to catch you all up on (in no particular order):

Elly had her first birthday

In-laws came to visit

I met Colin Powell

Elly meets Ms. B's in-laws

I completed my first crocheted afghan

Abby puts an ad on Craigslist

I'm back to baking and cooking
Elly's first trip to the ER (and the subsequent test of my new health insurance)

My garden is growing

Elly's got some new dance moves

I've started producing a boy band with the Joint Chiefs of Staff (ok, not really, but I do have a viable marketing plan I'd like to pitch them)

I'm going away for a couple months for school and I already have separation anxiety

Abby and I went to a secret dinner

My love of crosswalks continues to grow

I'm still succeeding in my new year's resolution, are you?

Oh, and you know, how's my whole job thing working for me...

And plenty more!  So stick around and see what I've got in store for you.

Confession part 2

Yes, I'm back! But before I get into all the nitty-gritty of being AWOL for a few months, let's talk first about my latest confession.

I've developed a major problem.  It's like a bad habit crossed with hoarding with a whole lot of laziness mixed in.  I hear the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem.  So here's my admission: I have stopped folding and putting away my laundry.  Instead, I just go out and buy more stuff. 

Yup.  That's it.  I actually would rather spend more money than actually do the grown-up thing.

It's actually gotten really bad lately (as seen in the picture below).

Here's the conversation I had with Abby last night about Mount St. Laundry:

B: OMG. I have a serious problem.

A: With what???

B: I've decided I'm so sick of folding and doing laundry, I've resorted to just buying more shit and letting the other stuff pile up.

A: Oh yeah. Same boat.

B: The pile is actually really embarrassing.  It's actually taller than me!

B: Add in all of Elly's clothes and it's a very expensive problem to have!

A: I have to just not shop at Target anymore.  Those bastards know how to make me impulse buy.  It's sneaky and mean.

B: Tell me about it! I have half their women's summer wardrobe.

A: I think it's partly because we've been cooped up in uniforms so long.

B: I actually really need to show you the pile.  I'm half disgusted by my laziness and half chest-thumping proud of it!!!!

A: I blame that.  Not recklessness or irresponsibility.

B: Yeah, I blame the uniform too.

A: Haha, I need a picture.
B: Or at least that'll be my rationalization for awhile!

I send the picture. 

B: Mountain O'Laundry.

B: It's all clean, but nothing is really folded and I can't find matching socks to save my life.

B: Notice the Dyson for scale reference.

(Waiting for a response.......)

A: That is respectable.  I mean.... really.  That's impressive.

B: I wish you could see/hear how hard I'm laughing now that I've confessed!  But not even revealing my secret is going to guilt me into folding that shit this week.

B: This is how hoarding begins, I'm pretty sure.

A: As your friend, I vow to never be appalled by your habits.  I will be amalled- amazed/appalled.

A: Because really, I'm just as bad... with fewer excuses.

First, let me say, that Abby is a great friend.  And I appreciate that she won't judge my laziness.

Second, there is now a system to the pile.  I know, in general terms, where some things are.  I know where I can, generally speaking, find the towels, or Elly's pj's.  I can't quite find matching socks quickly yet.  But it is a system.  And doesn't every system have its flaws?  So I'm not quite sure that I have an issue with the Mount St. Laundry yet. 

I really just need someone to come and fold it for me.  Or at least hold me accountable.  Or at the very least come and entertain me while I do the folding.  Or better yet, I need to have company over so I'm at least motivated to hide it somewhere other than on the freakin' love seat in the den.  I need someone to tell me it's un-American to live like that and the terrorists are going to win if I don't fold my laundry.  Actually, I don't believe that since it's actually totally American to be a slob.  I mean, cable networks make millions off of people who hoard and whose homes are a hot mess.  So I guess that scare tactic isn't going to work for me. 

So you're wondering at this point what the hell I have been doing the last few months if I haven't been blogging and clearly I can't blame it on the laundry.  Stay tuned... I promise to come back with more on my life soon! 

Update as of 2 hours after publishing this blog: It turns out that Mt. St. Laundry also provides entertainment for my child.  Stoofy sent me a text with the following:

S: Elly ran around down stairs saying, "mamamamamamamamama." Then stops at the clothes, grabs your underwear and puts it on her head.  Really kid?!?!?!

See, it's like the Boyne Mountain of my living room! (That's a Michigan skiing reference for those of you not in the know.)

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