I had a choice.

Make fudge and slowly nom on it all night, or go buy a pack of smokes.  So my face is covered in chocolate.  Mmmm, nothing like a fat girl with a fudge mustache.  Meh.  I'd rather be fat than see Dante pretend to smoke again.

My head hurts.  Like, OH MY GODS!  WHO IS SQUEEZING MY AMYGDALA? kind of pain. It's crazy.  I also have little trolls tap dancing on my temples, but they make me laugh, so screw it.

Ever have one of those cabin fever days where it feels like crushing your face with a cast iron skillet would be more fun that what you're doing?  That's how today was.  I am so incredibly dumb:  I decided, on day 2 of Not Smoking, that I was going to make drums with Dante out of baby cheesy poof containers and an old formula can.  People with OCD shouldn't do arts and crafts at home with their kids.  I thought my head was going to explode.  And then Scarlett stuck her feet in glue.  And Dante cut a hole in his new boxer briefs with his blunt scissors.  And colored all over himself with marker.  Oi.

The kids and I got into a splash fight in the tub earlier, which made my heart flutter.  It was a blast!  Scarlett "kicks" by holding on to the bath seat and lifting her butt and legs and splashing them down as hard as she can.  It's hilarious!  Dante just kicks and kicks until I am wiping bathwater off my face.

But Day 2 is almost over.  I am kinda twitchy.  Maybe it's because I haven't had enough coffee.  I think only two huge cups is some kind of record low.  =(

But now I have to have decaf, since it's bedtime.

Check ups, Insomnia and Spell Check

Scarlett's check up was both informative and a bit of a let down.  I got the usual "She's beautiful," and then the let-down:  Some bull shit about how even though Dante didn't breathe like Darth Vader, I need to treat Scarlett just the same.  I don't like it, it's not sitting well with me.  She got her shots, and I held and fed her afterwards so she'd calm down, and now she's a mucous-y mess.  Now she sounds like a pug.  Don't get me wrong, pugs are precious animals, but I don't like my daughter sounding like her nose wasn't made for her body.  But she was born at 7 lbs., 12 ounces and 20 1/2 inches long.  Now she's 9 lbs 8oz., and 22 1/2 inches.  She's got all her shots, so now I don't feel bad about putting her on a plane next month.  Doc also suggested vitamin E oil on my burn, and while it still looks like I am a bad horror movie extra, it hurts less and looks a lot better than it did!  HAHAHA!

I'm still having serious problems sleeping, but Scarlett is doing well.  Now at night she'll get about 4 hours between feedings, which is awesome.  She is more alert, and showing some serious SPUNK.  She loves to be held, and I think if I let Dante hold her, she'd still love it.  She's getting a lot better at holding her head up, and every time I look at her, I am floored by how lucky I am.  If I can toot my own horn for a second, I am very proud of how well I've handled myself.  Maybe my grief is why my brain drifts off and I do things like singe layers of skin off my hand with bacon grease.  But I'm still swimming in some pretty rough currents, and I am super proud of me.  I do let myself slip from time to time, but if I didn't, I'd just be bottling it up until I explode. Little bursts are so much better in the long run.

I had the pleasure of editing an essay for a friend on the other side of the pond, and its subject made me think about how lucky I am to have my love, and my kiddos.  I really just want to stop my world from spinning long enough to scream from my proverbial soap box that I love them all so much, I am surprised my heart can beat, it's so damn full.  I also really miss editing and writing.  I should finally finish that series of novels stored away in my grey matter.  I should strike while the occult iron is hot.  I got some sick shit stored up there.  LOL!

Now I get to roll cigarettes while my kids sleep.  And I get to watch some Glee since I had 6 episodes on the dvr.  So I shall dance in the butt-spot I created in my couch while I roll those dreaded cancer sticks.  I'll kick it someday, but not until my feet are on solid ground....

You Can't Just Leave Me....

This past year has been....interesting.  For those unaware, my best friend died last Hallowe'en, I got knocked up, and magically, Dante turned two.  Time flies, I guess.

But last week, one of my surrogate "moms" was in a motorcycle accident.  Not going to get into details, but I will say, since I finally got to see her today, she looks a lot better than I had anticipated.  Not ship shape, but damn, it was good to hear her voice.

On the way home, I heard the song "Bring Me to Life" by Evanescence on the radio.  When that song came out, Chris, my best friend that passed, was the one that insisted I listened to it.  It wasn't until I saw them perform it live on Jay Leno that I realized she actually can't carry a tune in a bucket and I gave up on them.  It also didn't hurt that I had worn that whole album to shreds and was sick of it, and getting into harsh EBM and industrial.

But I've actually heard it a few times lately, and always changed the station.  But for some odd reason, I was compelled to actually listen to it again.  It's still over-rated, still a cliche, and basically, still blows in my opinion.  But I cried.  I couldn't stop myself.  It brought back some fantastic memories with one of the most amazing people I have ever had the honor of knowing.  It stung, like I'd been slapped in the face with a chain mail gauntlet.

So today was a weird day....such good things, like Mom being well enough to get to regular room and I finally got to see her, and being blindsided by one of the dumbest songs ever recorded.  Very odd.

Well...

I have been meaning to get back to writing.  I meant to write a bit about the royal wedding and why I cried (that's Diana's baby boy!) and the killing of our Public Enemy Number One, but today trumps all that.  For me, at least.

Dante woke up at 845am.  Nothing says "FU*K YOU* to an insomniac pregnant lady like less than 6 hours of sleep.  So I got up, made us French toast (which sucks with the sandwich bread we have, but better than nothing) and got him fed and changed, wore him out and put him back to bed by 1030am.  He was up at 130pm, and I figured I'd check with our neighbor and see what they were up to, but she was putting F down for a nap.  An hour later, I got a text asking if we wanted to meet in the community room downstairs for a play date.  Got us dressed and headed downstairs with Dante's trike and his Elmo plane and the chalk, just in case the weather agreed with us.  So we had fun, T and I chatting while Dante and F had fun with each other's toys, and after a couple hours, we were winding down when I see Dante hugging F near a corner and they were looking a little clumsy, so I was moving to get up when the boys SLAMMED into the corner.  I didn't know I was still capable of flying, but apparently I am.  I do not recall either mine or T's feet touching ground, and we got there the split second the crying started.  Dante wasn't bleeding, but....F was.  He had a gash in the middle of his gorgeous porcelain forehead!  *cries*

So T gets him and her baby girl to the elevator, and I went back for my keys and Dante was still crying.  I knocked on Dante's former stalker's door, since she's on the 4th floor, too, and asked if she could please watch our stuff while I ran downstairs in case I needed to find a way to get all three kids and another adult into my car. So I got downstairs, and F had just calmed down, when we called T's husband and asked how far he was.  I may have accidentally freaked him out more than was necessary, but he got there in a flash!  While we were waiting for him, Dante had a panic attack that was probably because he was past the need for a nap.  Then I asked if her hubby had the baby's car seat in the car, and she handed me the baby and went with F upstairs to get baby's seat.  Baby was not happy about being left with me, but her daddy got there while T went for her seat, and she was still not happy.  But they ran off to get F stitched up, and I went to Former Stalker's to get all our stuff, and I brought it back up to my place.  Took a couple trips, but at least I know nothing got stolen.

Dante was INCONSOLABLE when we got home.  I wanted to get a banana or something into him so he'd sleep better (nothing says awesome sleep quite like a full belly!) but he wasn't eating it, he was just crying like I poked him with a red hot poker.  So I got him changed, and rocked him back to calm.  Then, as soon as I put him down, oh, gods, he was screaming!  So I just let him cry it out, and he was out cold in less than 5 minutes.  Just got the text that F is fine and now I feel much better as a person.  I am so very glad!  We were surprisingly calm as a team, and I'm very impressed.

So, now I am going to find something yummy (I've earned it!  LOL!) and let my brain wander in front of the boob tube.  Wow.  What a day!

Ticked Off Tuesday: Internet Stalking

I have actually avoided writing here because of this creepy epidemic.  I hate putting myself out there only to get more than my fair share of dumb, placating, and ignorant comments and wall posts.  Yes, I check in to Foursquare and usually post what I'm doing on Facebook, but that doesn't mean that I want to hear some weird, inane thing that my post reminded you about.  I've tried ignoring the folks that do this to me, I've tried sarcasm and rude, but now I'm getting to the point that I want to change my phone number (which I've had for almost 4 years), change my email address (that I've had for 7), and delete them and block them on FB.  It's too much.  Yes, I love 85% of the people on my friends list (a lot are comedians or Biggest Loser contestants that don't have fan pages), but ...damn.  I am trying to find the words to accurately describe how just a few people make me want to just delete FB, and not have contact with the other people that mean the world to me.  Is there a nice way to tell people that clicking on notifications fills me with a sense of dread?  That I don't want to post pictures or what I'm doing or how I'm doing because I'm just irritated.  Maybe it's hormones, but I really hate being That Bitch and blaming hormones when it's actually pissed me off since before I was pregnant.

Old me would just say "fu*k it" and delete the offenders, block them and not look back, but in my "old" age, I have been trying to see things from other people's points of view and it's easier said than done.  I'm frustrated, and I feel completely helpless, like my social networking has taken on a life of its own.  I'm irritated because I'm so incredibly non confrontational, but I feel like I have to defend myself.  I have less and less time as of late to weed through stupid stuff, and I feel like I'm finally at a breaking point.

Has this happened to anyone else?  Are there people on your social networking friends lists that make you want to scream?  Be honest if it's me; I'd hate to think I am inflicting this kind of irritation and frustration on you!

Ticked Off Tuesday: Laundry Rooms

I.  Hate.  Laundry rooms.  They are, in essence, a great equalizer.  We all want clean-ish underpants and sheets, but some people need to learn how to use timers.  I know that at least 99% of the apartments in this building have stoves with timers.  They are very simple to use!  You hit the timer button, adjust the time with the up and down buttons, and when the set amount of time is up, it dings.  I'm also willing to bet that if, for some reason, you don't have the same timer on your stove, or it's broken, the Family Dollar across the street MUST have egg timers for less than $2.  Since I know I'm not the only one in this building that shops there, I'm sure you've seen them.  USE A GORRAM TIMER!  First, when clothes sit for too long wet in the washer, they start to smell.  Second, clothes left in the dryer for too long will wrinkle, and I can't be the only one who hates both ironing and looking like a slob.  And seriously, I hate waiting on your dumb ass.  Yes, we all have lives, but I only get to do laundry once a week, for all three of us.  That's at least 4 loads of laundry a week, and I need to get it done at a reasonable time so that we all have clean sheets and clean pajamas.  If you're not going to get your crap out of other people's way, either go to Hell, or go to the laundromat down the street.  I have much better things to do than wait for you to figure out how long it takes for either 45 or 66 minutes to pass.  (Hint:  it takes either 45 minutes or 66.  Scary, huh?)

So, basically, for the most part, I can deal with not having a yard, or even a balcony, but having to wait for people to eject head from rectum when it comes to common space is enough to make me sell my soul (well, what's left of it...) for a patch of land and a few walls to call my own.  I can deal with pretending to give a crap about total strangers who happen to live in close proximity, or the occasional bass thumping through the walls, but my time is precious.  And it will be even more precious when the new little one gets here.  So, that being said, get your crap out of my way so I can get on with my day, ok?
Thanks!

A Day "Off"

In about 12 hours, I get to find out if we are buying pink or blue!  I have a feeling it's a girl, and I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing since kids tend to be karma.  But I must admit that I really want ruffles on someone's butt and they sure don't fit on mine.

Today was a lot of fun, even if the only place we went was Starbucks so I could buy a newspaper for the coupons.  Dante had fun, and he was just so stinkin' sweet, he nearly gave me a cavity.  He helped me with laundry, he ate like a champ...He did scream a little bit after his bath for reasons I'll never understand, but he was mostly ok today.  He read the baby lotion bottle again, even finding where it said "baby" on the back of the bottle, not just the front.

I noticed there were some fantastic deals in the coupon section of the paper and the ads.  Not going to bore you with the details, but I actually had a lot of fun making lists for certain stores and coordinating the coupons.  I feel like a super cool geek, if that makes any sense.

I also made some fantastic red layered enchiladas today, just plain cheese with a fried egg.  It tasted like I was back at my Gramma's house in Las Cruces.  Now I miss my Gramma even more just thinking about those yummy enchiladas.  Damn.  As much as I truly love Denver, and I can't imagine living anywhere else (except  maybe Portland, Oregon...), I really miss just cruising over to Gramma's to hang out and watch tv, or going to bingo with both grandparents or the Farmer's Market with Mom.  But then I remember all my great friends here, and as hard as it is, I know the schools are better for Dante and The Impending Doom, and can't imagine going back.  Besides, I'd miss the zoo, and the parks here, and the weather, and, well, all of it.

Looks like I just thought with my fingers!  LOL!  Ah, rambling.  Gotta love it.  I am having a hard time turning off my brain because of this appointment...

Not going to post anywhere on the internet what color we're buying til after Dante's birthday party on Saturday.  I have people I want to tell in person and a huge chunk of them will be at the party, so, everyone else gets to wait!

And now I am going to take my nightly benadryl (something has to stop this insufferable itching...) and hope I get some rest!