Saturday, January 30, 2010

Good Morning ! Are you hungry?

You people are turning me all domestic.

Yesterday I made WW chicken parm, seriously, from duck tape and good intentions. I somehow found "most" of the ingrediants and just kinda threw it together, and VOILA a nice home cooked meal, that was placed with love on the table, as my husband walked through the door. And, he ate it. And he didn't get sick.

Which, by the way, is number 2 of the home cooked meals that I have finagled -out of nothing.

And this morning, because its Josh's day to "sleep in" I was up with the tiny child at 6AM, sigh. So while I was rubbing my eyes; searching frantically for the green button on the coffee maker thingy, I got this hankering for some waffles. And since, you know, Josh would be pissed, if I woke him up and demanded that he make us some; I did it myself.
And, Holla! I am just as awesome at making waffles as I am at chicken parm.

Waffle recipe for all you eager Moms out there. Get ready cause its super complicated.
2 Cups of Jiffy mix
1 1/4 cup of milk
Waffle maker.
Syrup (pour on waffles when maker thingy goes BEEP)

 
That's right, they were THAT good. 

Friday, January 29, 2010

I only have pretty friends

 
Because I am moving in 8 weeks, I demanded that I get to see my Bff in wedding dresses, as she is getting married next year. And although I will most def be here for the wedding, it makes me sad that I will miss out on all the drama that planning a wedding entails.
But at the very least, I got to see how beautiful she looks in wedding gowns. And like, seriously, not ONE of those dresses looked bad on her. Not even ONE!
Damn her ginormous boobs.



You never really expect to be "moved" by someone you care about in a wedding dress, I have, in theory dressed, and have been dressed, by this person for almost three years, but when she stepped out in the white gown, I seriously felt all maternal.  Its the same way I felt when I saw my Sister in law in her dress. Something about the "right" dress just takes your breath away. 


I just need to say, the sash was so my idea


Actually it was hers. Sorry Allie. And God Damn this child is in love with her reflection.
As I am writing this, Allie is finding it absolutely hilarious, to throw her bottle half way across the room.  Then  stare up at me with her beautiful sapphire blue eyes- and whisper, "Ba. Ba." While making a lazy grasping motion with her tiny fingers.  As if to say, "Mom, I just had to throw it at the TV, Elmo was thirsty, now go get it bitch."
Sigh. And I do.
And I say, OK! This is the last time I am going to do this, AlleSSANDRA. So you better hold on to that bottle nice and TIGHT! (Or Mommy, might have to duck tape it to your hands!)
Two minutes later a bottle is being smashed into my face. And the child is laughing like an asshole and screeching  "Mmmbaa Mmmbaa" which is "Mamma" in Allie talk.

I don't know how much longer I will allow her to eat her breakfast with me on the couch. I remember the days when I just smothered her with my boobs.  Which in my opinion, kept the throwing of objects and pulling of the hair, to a minimum.

Thursday, January 28, 2010

This is Daddy Watching Allie


As I practice some relaxing yoga



Yes, I know my shirt is inside out


This one is my favorite. Getting kicked in the head is super.

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Death by Candy




You know when you are gulping back long island ice teas, chain smoking, and popping muscle relaxers, and then decide that right that moment would be a fantastic time to participate in some good old fashion karaoke?

At your Grandmother's birthday party....

Right, well, my point is bad ideas.

Yesterday, before work, I thought it would be a fabulous idea to chow down on some jelly beans-only to find out that they were sugar free, and yes, there was a moment where I said, don't do that Chelsea, you know that sugar alcohol will rip the lining out of your stomach and make you roll around on the ground screaming. And you know you will demand that Josh,  just be a GOOD HUSBAND AND END YOUR LIFE! But, Mmmmm Jelly beans. So delicious.
So evil.

Long story short.

I died.

No, seriously. Tell me I did not crawl on my hands in knees in a 900$ suit last night. And please tell me that I did not lay my head on the communal toilet, breathing in its sweet aroma.

.........from jelly beans.


Tuesday, January 26, 2010

The Invention of detergent...

For some reason, when I go see my psychiatrist, something goes off in my brain and I have this NEED to appear to be perfect- like I WILL ACE THIS APPOINTMENT!

I want to be the best Postpartum patient EVER.  So, naturally when I bring Allie along with me, I want her to be dressed in a starch white, taffeta gown, with her hair in ringlets-clad in "non crazy Mom love." And of course she would be sipping cranberry juice from a silver cup, without spilling a drop.
But, yeah. That is not my life.
I got up at 5:30 AM in order to step away on the stair climber-and to shower, dress, eat breakfast, make a bottle and clean up Allie's dinner from last night. (What? I am lazy.) And I did this ALL before I heard her talking away to herself in her crib.
Josh was SUPER DAD this morning, and not only changed her for me, but got her dressed. (Love him)
So even though I was up THREE HOURS before I was suppose to even LEAVE for the appointment, of course we were late, of course Allie showed up with strawberry jelly encrusted in her hair, and OF COURSE she decided that upon entering my Doctor's tiny tiny office she needed to, right that second, crap her pants.
But, I guess the sheer reality of the situation is that before, I would have thrown myself face down on the ground, and have simply given up, cause the whole magnitude of the situation was too much.

Today, though, it wasn't too much. It was more, expected.
The little road blocks that are thrown at me are way more manageable now. Which was quickly pointed out by my Doctor. She reminded me that the invention of detergent, was to wash those white starch dresses clean.

Monday, January 25, 2010

Play Date!


My little angel
 

They just like to follow each other around...and close the door in our face


Its FOOD TIME! Now Move, cause I need to get my leg over this ginormous gate, without kicking you in the face!

Sunday, January 24, 2010

If I write BOOB in the title, will more people read it?


So if you are a new reader, let me take a moment out to say HI! Welcome! Thanks for stopping by!
And now let me talk about my boobs.  And my behind, because this blog is a vagina, boob and a behind, "happy place" where we frequently discuss all these topics with great flourish and swagger.  I am the vagina discuss er  er queen, and all of you out there that are NEW should thank your lucky stars that I am not pregnant at the moment, because trust me, you would be getting a play by play of all things uterus. And if you don't believe me, take a quick peek at February and March of last year.
Anywho, I digress. Boobs.  We are quickly approaching a year of being sans small person taking up shop in my body, and I am happy to report that I am currently back into my xs  underwears, as in my ass deflated, but while that is super exciting, I have to also mention, something horrific happened to my boobs.
Where did they go?
Helloooo boobs?  boobs boobs boobs (it's an echo)
Seriously. 
I feel as if I am vastly approaching the whole "swing low, sweet chariot" theme song that sings in my head every time I go bra shopping....in the Tween section, where they make AAA bra cups. *SOB*
And you know, someone DID tell me about this. She warned me. But like most things baby related, I so did not believe it would happen to me.
While packing for Georgia I came across various bras, ranging from A to DD.
For serious people.
D F*cking D. As in D to the "I have milk shooting from my boobicles and I might explode- so go get the damn baby, I DON"T care if she is SLEEPING, WAKE HER UP DEAR GOD SO SHE CAN EAT!"- D
As in I could wear these bras as a hat, if I ever am in a crisis.
And the day I stopped feeding from my boobs.
A.
Like, I blinked and my boobs fell off.
Is anyone counting how many times I say boobs in this post?
Oh, everyone stopped reading?
The men were all like, BOOBS! ?!
 And then I mentioned milk spraying in all directions and they all threw up in unison.

I shaved my legs today.
I know, I know, ALERT THE MEDIA! But seriously, its a big deal for me. So much of my everyday activities were robbed by my depression, that the little things that were so automatic, got lost. Like, filing my nails, or exfoliating, do you have ANY idea how long its been since I have exfoliated? I mean, granted being a mother, is reason enough to forgot those simple pleasures-but I got so lost in the depths of hell, that actually brushing and WASHING my hair became a huge exhausting process.
But this morning, I washed, AND conditioned my hair, and, after remembering that Josh keeps referring to me as chewbacca, I decided that now was as good as a time as any, and reached for my razor and shaving gel. And if I had been living my life in a sitcom, (or a cartoon, whichever) You would have heard a nice WAAA WAAA in a nice low pitch, as in, you have neither a razor or shaving gel, cause you have not shaved your legs in a loooong ass time. 
Super Hot, right?
So, I naturally reached for Josh's super sharp razor and some fantastic conditioner, cause nothing says BROKE, like using hair conditioner as shaving gel!
And after a few nicks, and curse words, I hacked away at the forest and Voila! I shaved my legs this morning!

I must be feeling better.

Saturday, January 23, 2010

conversing

Me: "I think when we move to Georgia we should become super religious."

Josh: "Oh, yeah?"

Me: "Yeah, I think we should baptize Allie, and I should, you know join a Mother's group that's affiliated with the Church..."

Josh: "Why?"

Me: "So, I can belong."

Josh: "Are you gonna drink the Kool Aid too?"

Friday, January 22, 2010

I miss Starbucks cups.
Especially the holiday ones. I realize that I am always stunned when suddenly the plain white cup turns into a decadent sparkly red and white one, decorated with frolicking reindeer and shit, but it doesn't mean I don't friggen LOVE walking around holding the precious cup of wonderful coffee.
And no, I don't miss Christmas. I miss having money. I miss being able to casually stop by Starbucks because I have a hankering for some caffeine. Now, if I need some coffee, my ass needs to make some. Or I bribe Josh to make me a delicious pot in the morning, by claiming that the simple act of making me coffee, will validate his love for me...for the ENTIRE DAY.

I miss buying shit. I miss tossing random things into my cart cause I want them. I miss yoga class, and new clothes.

This move to Georgia will finally help in that department, with both of us working (*fingers crossed*) and living rent free (*weeeeee*) and the cost of living being like, holy shit, (WOW!) cheap, compared to here, one day I look forward to buying a friggen coffee and only drinking half of it.
That'll show 'em.


On a completely different subject. I bought Allessandra 18 month jammies today. And I found them in the Your child is not a baby anymore, asshole, section of Babys R us. Which, in case you were wondering, is w  a a y in the back of the store, next to the maternity bras. And, there is no more footsie jammies. And, no more duckies.

18 month olds are in sexy lingerie, black lace and satin....makes me so sad.
Seriously tho, all pants and shirts with barbie and other cartoon shit plastered all over the fronts and backs. What is up with that? Suddenly, when she reaches a year or older she will be happier with fucking barbie on her chest?
I searched, and cursed, (as expected), and finally came up with some cats and a monkey. *Holla!*
I want to hold off Barbie as long as possible.

Hopefully forever, *fingers crossed*.

I am having a huge "issue" not only getting my shit together in order to move in 9 weeks, but going through her tiny baby clothes and knowing that I will have to give them away, or sell them. Selling her swing is really getting to me, I am all wrapping my body around it, holding it close, not wanting to part with it. Cause what if she suddenly wanted to climb into it? What if she wanted to be swaddled again and swung to sleep?

See this? This right here, is why I am medicated.

Thursday, January 21, 2010

Its Warm out....and how I like to torture my daughter



What? she loved it.

 


It got even funnier when she frantically began signing the sign for ALL DONE MOM, ALL DONE!!!!!!!!!!!



She's my biggest fan, and loves my hat. So shut up.



I am hers.

Touche Oprah....

Oprah really knows how to push my buttons.

She gets all up in my face with her tragic stories, baby girls being hit by cellphone using, SUV driving, whores. Mothers, sobbing, begging me not to text and drive anymore, as if just by texting one simple answer to a question, I was tossing back six 40s and plowing my car directly into a kindergarten playground.
However, due to this program, and two phone calls from my Mom,  I have stopped doing it.


I officially am  a non text er while driving er. Do you think they make a 12 step program? Lord, Grant me the strength to not answer my phone while driving, Give me the power to not jump like an asshole when my blackberry begins to flash. Because, Lord, I am just not that important. And I don't want to be responsible for plowing my Mazda over a six year old-or killing two people, because I was "distracted by my phone."

Earlier that morning, my Mom and I were discussing something trivial -I was probably complaining about my life, while tossing back a few glasses of wine and vicotin, and my Mom was all like, " I don't want you driving and talking on your cellphone anymore"
I was all like, "Mom, I can handle it. I only talk a little bit." Total lie-I catch up with each and everyone of my Facebook friends on my way to various destinations. Thats 260 people bitches.

So, naturally, that afternoon Oprah and my mom got all up in my face with little girls dying from whore drivers who talk on their cellphones. 

Five minutes into that program, tears streaming down my face, I called my Mom, declaring that I will throw that tiny plastic six year old killing fucker straight out my driver side window. No more Cellphones for this chick.

And my Mom was all like, "I didn't raise you to talk like a truck driver....and I told you so."

Oprah and my Mom: 1
Me: 0

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

WWW Wednesday

I dragged my husband to therapy this morning. The sad part about this little trip, was that it was seriously the first time we have been alone since my sister in law's wedding , and yeah, they got hitched in MAY.
Ahem. So, among other things, clearly we need to work on OUR relationship. But I was all like, But US as parents, parents, what about that? How do we do that???? And the therapist was all like, This isn't about your kid, Chelsea.

Josh was very fond of her. I am thinking its cause she has a pretty face. I have found that taking criticism from pretty faces, some how lessons the blow. Some how when ugly people tell you that you fail at life, it just makes everything a tad worse.

The appointment (I think) went incredibly well.

Josh felt like he was in a safe environment and confessed that sometimes, while enraged, I call him a whore and beat him. And I was all like, "That happened ONCE, and I was SLEEPING!"

Just kidding. But I did punch him in the face one morning, but it was like, totally an accident. 

The medicine that I am on really seems to be doing its job- so (of course) they wish to increase it. I am hesitant to take even more pills, but in the same breath, would LOVE all of my panic attacks to subside.



This is Allessandra showing that she is totally listening and was not even THINKING about shoving my phone down her throat. 


Tuesday, January 19, 2010

I am really happy I decided to wear underwear tonight. Not in the way you think I mean it. I mean, I do on occasion free ball. (LOL Free ball *giggle*) I enjoy that phrase, you should try using it in a sentence today. To free one's balls.
Anywho, clearly I don't have balls to free-but nevertheless it works. But I digress. 
I am really happy I wore my underwears tonight (no they were candycane free (thank Gaaawd!) because, ahem..my ass ripped through my pants. 
Yes. My ASS RIPPED THROUGH my PANTS. As in, there was a tiny breeze where my pants once were. 
My ASS CRACK was on display for the entire world - along with my aqua thong that thankfully was just high enough to cause EVEN MORE ATTENTION because, HI! AQUA MARINE UNDERWEARS WHERE BLACK PANTS SHOULD BE!

I wish I could say I was mortified. But it wasn't until really after my co-worker pointed out that "Hey I can see your ass crack...Oh, and nice thong!" That another co-worker noticed tiny hand prints along the inside of my thighs.
Tiny Allessandra cookie hand prints.
....I can officially say that it was right then, that I wanted to crawl under the table and hide for the rest of the night.
....But I guess I couldn't really bend over and hide, cause my entire ASS would have been on display.


Sweet.





Although I have spent a lot of time hating on snow, this morning I was filled with a little bit of sadness, thinking that my relationship with that nasty stuff  will soon be minimal at best.

I hate you snow. But you sure are pretty sometimes.


 

Why, YES those are Christmas trees on her jammies. Don't judge her, there are candy canes on my underwears...that's just how we role around here.

Monday, January 18, 2010




Taking pics....one of my favorites!
 I am currently on day three of feeling good. Not good enough, not fine, but actually in the true blue "goodness" that everyday people must feel on an every day bases. I wake up, I don't bury my face under the massive down comforter that covers our massive bed. I don't choke back sobs listening to  Josh close the door behind him, as he makes his way to his job. In fact, I don't cry much at all. The urge to cry seems to have been erased from my brain- definitely not saying that I am lacking the capability-because Lord knows I could cry if I really set out too, I just simply, don't feel like it.

I feel like running. I feel like taking pictures, and cooking. I feel like taking Allessandra outside to get some fresh air. I feel like calling my family and reading actual books. But the difference here is, I really, ACTUALLY ,GENUINELY, NOT EVEN JOKING, FEEL LIKE DOING IT. There is no "faking it till you make it"- hidden underneath my poorly made mashed potatoes.  The smile that is plastered on my face is not forced, I do feel better. I feel like perhaps the medication is working. Or maybe it was because all of a sudden the truth...as they say "set me free."
Like I said last night to a very good friend. "I was getting shot at, everyday, bullets were flying in all directions, and suddenly I realized that all I needed to do, was to ask for a bullet proof vest."


Sunday, January 17, 2010

Saturday, January 16, 2010

Friday, January 15, 2010

...Pictures are worth a thousand words...and..I don't feel like writing right now







 KISSING her reflection. Boy I love her self esteem.




Visit from her Uncle Josh..who not only brought lunch, but PRESENTS!




Thursday, January 14, 2010

IF Tom Cruise ruled the world...I would be dead...Part 1

I never wanted to come here.
Not here as in where I am sitting, curled under my covers watching Ellen, I mean, I never wanted to move away from home. When that big fat letter came in the mail, that stated Congratulations! We welcome you to college! I promptly fell to the ground in sheer relief. I was Accepted, people wanted me, I was going away, Accepted. Accepted. Accepted.
But maybe, it was soon there after that the anxiety set in. I soon became ruled by my panic-chain smoking and self medicating. I participated in a lot of not so "healthy" behaviors, one in which revolved around engaging in a VERY destructive relationship with an older guy. I kinda even feel bad saying that, because even when I think about it now, that poor man child was plowed DOWN by my absolute craziness. He didn't deserve it-but caring about his feelings ranked pretty low on my list.
Against my better judgment I began taking birth control-maybe in the hopes that I would appear to be "cool". I guess I just thought carting around a plastic case with tiny pills in them announced to the world, I AM HAVING SEX! LOOK AT ME!
But those pills fucked me up. And when I say fucked up, I mean fu uuu cc kkk ed up.
All of a sudden I would be driving and the only thing I could think of was plowing my car directly into a tree.
I did not want to live. And I had NO IDEA why.
I let my anxiety about moving to college be the only reason for my psychosis, and soon found myself smack dab in my local PSYCHIATRIC HOSPITAL. What a way to end my Senior year of high school.

I am certainly not proud of this, I am probably mostly embarrassed by it, because as soon as one admits to "crazy" they are forever labeled as such. But here is the thing, up until now, I have done a pretty decent job hiding the real issues that have been buzzing above my head. I have a history of depression. Hormones fuck my brain up. I suck at change. But OMG I am SO HAPPY- see....JAZZ HANDS!
 
 I sat in front of my Doctor yesterday, so completely riddled with anxiety, that I had a hard time UN CLENCHING my hands- relaying the events that have taken place this past year.
My brother and father died at the same time, I got pregnant, had a very difficult birth, she was sick and I had to go home without her, I lost my job while still in the hospital, Josh had to go back to work very quickly, I had pretty much 0 help, I had a c section, we MOVED, I STARTED A NEW JOB-and had to stop breast feeding, I had a colicky baby.......and have a history of depression.

I shit you not, the Doctor actually SNORTED.
Who the fuck was a trying to kid here? Why was I trying to be such a hero, when all I needed was a tiny pill?
Why did I think that  rationalizing- driving my car off the nearest bridge, was not only healthy, but justified?
So much of what has transpired the past ten months, I feel mostly was fueled by a cocktail of emotions. A lot of my friends and family were caught in the cross fire-and to them, I will always feel a deep regret. My husband, in particular, who has thrown his hands up in complete frustration on more then one occasion- who has repeated over and over again that NO he does NOT want a DIVORCE, and YES he FUCKING LOVES ME, and JESUS CHRIST WHY CANT YOU JUST BE HAPPY?
To you- I love you.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

This is for you

Dear Allie,
I realize that you get a lot of letters from me, mainly monthly, but this one is just from me to you. The other day I pulled a Britney Spears and completely lost my fucking mind. And while I did not shave my head, or attack anyone with an umbrella, I was utterly, uncontrollably, overcome with self doubt in my ability to be provide for you.
After a few fearful hours, I finally reached out for help...by calling your Grandmother, who, is one person on this earth that knows me at my absolute worst. I know that your Gram will never, EVER, tell me things because I "want" to hear them, she was honest with me-and it was what I needed to hear.
I wanted to share this with you, because there will be a time when you realize who your mom is. There will be a day when you realize that I too, am just a person. And I will always be honest with you about my faults.
Today, after lots of hoops and tears I was finally diagnosed with  Postpartum Depression. Which means that I can finally get the help that I have so desperately needed in these past months.
I wondered, staring at my blog posts-how in one post I could be writing about my beautiful daughter, and in another -speaking to my depression, talking about how I cannot get enough energy to brush my hair, let alone read to you and sing silly songs.
And while I am still relatively embarrassed about my recent diagnoses -mostly in part because I feel like I have failed you-I know that reaching out to a professional in order to get the help I need was one of the smartest decisions I have made in a while.
Allie, my very early childhood was not one that was made in storybooks. Sometimes the thought that you might ever experience one ounce of what I went through overwhelms me. Sometimes I worry that saying No to you in a stern voice is somehow me morphing into my biological father. However irrational these thoughts are, they are real. They consume me. They take my breath away.
I never knew that it was possible to love someone as much as I love you. That feeling of love is not one that I am generally comfortable with, being that I generalize that me loving someone, will without a doubt, take them away from me.
But I am learning, I am trying, I am finally getting the help that I need.
So, Allie, this is for you, its all for you-the blog, the pictures, the scrapbooks. I love you more then anything on this planet, and I am so sorry that I was too stubborn to get the help I needed when I first discovered a problem.
Today I finally have hope. Everything really is going to be OK.
Love Always,
Mom

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

10 Months





Dear Allessandra,

10 months has gone by. We have blissfully reached double digits, and are two whole months away from a year. I realized the other day, when I eagerly announce to random people that I, have a TEN MONTH old at home, even though they didn't ask, and I am willing to bet they don't care, they have stopped saying, "Wow you look really good!"- I guess the expectation is that ten whole months have passed so YEAH you should be back to NORMAL.
And while, I was zipping up my skinny jeans four months after your birth, I certainly have not felt "normal" in a very long time.
I feel that the closer we get to you being a year old, the more things become less "normal" and verge on the edge of chaotic-stressful - or need I say holy shit you have your own crazy personality and WHY dear GOD are you biting me out of frustration?  A little more "interesting".
The first year of your life, you learned how to do these amazing things all by yourself. I was not there coaching on the sidelines encouraging you to yawn, but look, YOU YAWNED! ALL BY YOURSELF?! Nor was I teaching you how to crawl, or to stand up by yourself-these little tricks you picked up, all on your own. Up until now I have pretty much done jack, in terms of "teaching you" but somehow you have morphed into this almost toddler who knows what she wants.
These are the times when absolutely everything in your life is new.
When the cat saunters by you, and you widely grin up at me wiping your face in a frantic motion in a way that I can only assume to be the sign for "cat"-and announce  TA TA TA....
I want to run out onto my balcony and shout to the world "MY CHILD, SHE'S A GENIUS! BOW DOWN TO MY AMAZING GENES!
But, like, people hate cocky parents..so I have tried to refrain from doing that.
Oh, I just want to say, thanks for not caring for baby food anymore- you really noticed Daddy and I were in financial crisis, and decided that you would be perfectly content eating broccoli and burritos, oatmeal, and tater tots...we do appreciate your enthusiasm in trying new foods, even if you ONLY WANT TO EAT IT WHEN WE ARE EATING.

Its not like I don't want to share Allie, its just, the cupcake was mine, why did you have to slap it out of my hands and stuff it in your mouth?


Until next month,

Momma (AKA Daddy)



Monday, January 11, 2010

There was a point a couple of days ago when I was in the throes of depression-on the phone with my mother outside, shivering in the cold, just wanting someone, anyone, to fix me.
I seem to lack the ability to make myself happy. I am not talking about frolicking through daisies happy, I am just talking about the utter DESIRE to get my ass out of bed and and SHOWER...type happy.
I know I have been fighting off depression for a while. Its been sitting on my shoulder whispering in my ear for a long time now.

 I am hell bent against medicating myself- I instead, have tried to take a more "natural path" and have eaten enough St John's wort in my day, to publicly speak on its behalf.
It doesn't work.
What else does not work, is B12- I have chewed those vitamins every day for the past four months, and not only has it not cured my depression, but it also has not done shit for my exhaustion.

I know that I do not want to feel like this.
And as my mother causally put it, "Perhaps you should, you know, stop lying to your therapist and be honest with her?"

This is all I know, at this very moment.
  • I am about ready to throw the cats over the balcony- with the eating of the child's food, and leaping through the air crashing into the gates.
  • In the same sentence I will miss them, when I donate them all to a Chinese  restaurant (although I bet they will be delicious) 
  • I am done eating chicken. And perhaps all meat, for a while. Having my face stuffed into the toilet for an entire day from a piece of raunchy chicken is about all I can take.
  •  I will be unrolling my yoga mat everyday from now on, in order to reign in the 'crazy'.
  • I am more excited about moving then terrified of it
I wanted to write this post when I was feeling "better". The past couple of days have been pretty destructive- basically I would have rather have spent the last three days wiping my ass with sand paper, then indulging in my anxious behavior.
However, what is done is done.
I am back, after twelve hours of sleep. And I feel happy, confident, and ready to share.

In 11 weeks, me and Ms Allessandra are moving to Georgia.  As in, I am picking up my life here and MOVING IT. Far, far, away.
Josh is waiting out our lease, and will follow in the beginning of June. SO, not only am I moving in with my in laws, carting my child, but I am doing it alone for two months.
Hence the anxiety attacks...

And if you are any normal human you would be scratching your head wondering why we would pick up our life here and just move.
The only explanation I have is, we like it in the South, we have been there several times, and both Josh and I are pretty much done with New England weather.
If we don't do it now, then we are never going to do it.
And, I want a house-and the likelihood that we would be able to afford anything other then a shitty condo is pretty definite if we stay here.
So that is where I am these days. Making lists in my head, pushing down my anxiety, and trying to figure out what the HELL I want to do with the rest of my life.
...Send positive thoughts my way...I need all the help I can get.

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

To the Dark side!

My Facebook status read this afternoon: So I was feeding Allie lunch and I see her trying to reach for the measuring tape...I move said tape further back onto the table. Two seconds later I hear a crash-the child pulled the entire friggen table cloth towards her, sending everything crashing to the ground...and is holding the tape, looking at me like What?!!



 Meanwhile....




I look as if I am super surprised I have not burned the place to the GROUND.



Allie supervised...

Tuesday, January 5, 2010



I have attempted to be "more positive" lately. I would even chalk that up to a New Year's resolution. But since I have tried to do this pretty much the ENTIRE YEAR of 2009- I don't particularly hold much stock in this year's attempt.
But I am gonna give it a whirl. Cue:  jazz hands !!!!!!

For Christmas this year I received a bunch of cupcake decorating materials, and since written on the top of my TO DO list is: Attempt to be fucking Martha Stewart, I spent a good amount of time yesterday watching YouTube videos on how to not look like a complete idiot while squeezing icing thru a piping bag. Lets just say: Mommy failed.

My icing looked more like....watered down sugar? Josh's version of what it looked like was a little bit more vulgar-but since I am impersonating Martha Stewart here-I will not share it with you.
Perhaps I just had a friggen problem dumping an ENTIRE STICK OF BUTTER in a bowl and smearing it on my cupcakes. Which is why my icing was more confection sugar and water-and less butter creme.
Ah Well. Perhaps my real resolution  should be: cook with sticks of butter, drink lots of liquor and just say FUCK IT to trying to reign in my crazy.
One of my actual resolutions was to stop swearing.  I failed at that three minutes after I was awake Jan 1st and stepped into a giant cold heap of cat vomit.

My life rules.

Sunday, January 3, 2010

So I bet you thought my New Year's resolution was to not blog fifty times a day! HA! but you would be wrong. I think I fell into a deep black hole that is called life and just did not have the heart to, you know, actually blog about it.
I am about a few days away from completely filling this blog with word vomit- and pretty much unleashing the nasty, evil, anxiety ridden gremlin that lives in the back of my throat. AKA my only little Tony. *Two points if you picked up the Shining reference*
Anyways. Resolutions. Not only did I not make one this year, I fell asleep on purpose at 9PM and turned off my phone, as to not be bombarded with HAPPY NEW YEAR BITCH!!!! type text messages  I was sure to receive from my inebriated friends. I happily read each and everyone at 9AM the following morning. And bonus points, I was NOT wishing for death from a nasty hangover!
I am not a big fan of resolutions, maybe because I know that I wont stick to it-and in theory I am always trying to better myself.  I did have a passing thought the other day, that I should vow to find some sort of anxiety medication, because one should not worry as much as I do.
I have a friend who is on medication because he "worries about worrying" I kinda wanted to wrap my arms around him and kiss his tiny face, because HELLO! Welcome to my nightmare!
Thought about laying off the coffee..but then laughed myself into an asthma  attack thinking of the repercussions of THAT little experiment.

But, whatever, Happy New Year!