Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Some more Poo? You're welcome.

Me and my digestive track are no longer speaking.
To be fair, digestive track started it. It was all " I am not going to work properly for a WEEK, see how comfortable you will be- all  bloated and miserable."

And I was all, "Awesome! I don't have to go "potty" at work!"

Seriously, I have such bathroom anxiety.
But then, it just got bad. I was literally choking from gas pains, and the thought of food began to revolt me. I tried drinking more water, I tried xlax -and last night in my last fateful attempt to get things "moving" I went for a run/walk.
To clarify, when you have not gone "potty" for a full week, and you just ingested 75 tiny pancakes, running anywhere is not a good idea.
I ended up puking.
Awesome, right?
To add some icing onto the cake, Allessandra had ingested each and every single germ from her classroom, and ended up spiking a fever of 103 last night-which by the way is NOT super awesome. To be frank, sitting here listening to her fight off sleep with a high pitch Whhhhhhhine, it is STILL not super awesome, and I kind of wish I was at work. EXCEPT, because baby Jesus hates me and wants to spite me- I now....ahem...cannot stop "going".

So sitting next to my Elax is some good O'l fashion immodium-right next to the Activia (did you just sing the theme song in your head?) I did. 
I might be the one and only person on this planet that will get their money back after I take the Activia "challenge."

Sunday, April 25, 2010

   Babyland, could quite possibly be the strangest place I have been in a long time. BabyLand is where Cabbage patch dolls are born. You might be confused, especially if you just recently learned how babies are made-so let me clarify, this place is a mansion that is set way back in the mountains, sort of like, if you scream, no one will hear you type setting. And the mansion houses a cabbage patch vagina, um, tree, that births out 250$ cabbage patch babies, every twenty or so minutes. The weirdness factor, I mean, besides the fact that the house is made out to be a HOSPITAL where there are employees walking around clad in white coats and scrubs, is that, well they make it seem like the tree is actually participating in a human birth. Like, for instance they use the term dilation, like over the loud speaker. I am all, "Did he just say dilation, like a vagina dilation? Does the tree need Pitocin? Jesus Christ people, DOES IT NEED A C SECTION?!" And then, well, the young boy did his little speech, and insisted that the tree needed an easy ot ome...
Like, did he just make a joke about vagina cutting? Really?
At that point, I really had to sensor myself and take a short break from all the drama of the baby boy being pulled from the vagina mouth of the cabbage patch. It was all a little too real for me.

Allessandra did in fact go home with a doll-one that she snatched from its cradle and proceeded to drag around by its hair-all the while soothing it with her tiny voice saying,..."Awww Awww Awww."

Saturday, April 17, 2010


The Driving age is super young here, we have to break her in
We really don't like to get dressed, and this is the face we make when instructed to "COME HERE SATAN"S SPAWN AND PUT YOUR CLOTHES ON BEFORE GRANDMA KILLS YOUR FOR PUTTING YOUR CUTE WHITE BUTT ON THE COUCH!
And.....this is where we keep her when we go out for dinner. Oh, stop it. She has her own water bowl.

Friday, April 16, 2010

Playing at the Park

Peaches Mcgee

Hells yes those are pigtails
Look at my big girl!


If you are a mother of a toddler you are well aware of the "too quiet" issue. You know, for a second you are filled with this overwhelming sensation of joy, because, well, for that split second, you forget that quiet during any times other then Yogabba and nap time means that you will most likely be spending the remainder of the day fixing/cleaning/ whatever they decided to destroy. Quiet means: Vaseline all over the walls. Quiet means: the magical removal of ones diaper-which leads ultimately to a nice puddle of pee on the floor. One, that I might add, is most certainly being splashed in with your toddler's tiny hands. Cause, hello? Water!!!?? Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.
And yesterday, quiet meant, the removal of EVERY SINGLE DIAPER WIPE- EVER. Like, 500 some sheets of diaper wipe piled in heaps all around her room. Like is snowed diaper wipes. And its funny, because I was content with the notion that she was playing *cringe* quietly, with her dolls in her room. Which, of course meant that I could take five minutes to throw in some laundry, grab some lunch, or actually sit down for a minute.

And what I ended up doing for the rest of the day was putting 500 diaper wipes into individual zip lock bags. Silently cursing my trusting tendencies.

OK, maybe not so silently. 

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

2 weeks

Yes I am still alive. And No, I have not entered Allessandra into the Savannah "Southern Belle Pageant" But I will be honest, I totally thought about it. What I have been doing, is rocking interviews. That's right. Job interviews as in PLURAL. As in, I might get a job offer on Friday. A job  that I really really want with sprinkles and cherries and hot fudge on top. And I will probably work harder at this job then I ever worked in my ENTIRE life, but wow it came straight out of my dreams and landed KER- PLOOP onto my lap. No, I am not gonna say what its for, cause I will feel like a huge asshole if I don't get it-plus there will most certainly be tears involved. But I did totally ace my SECOND interview today-where I actually did the job. So, everyone just please think happy job getting thoughts.

And oh, by the way- Allessandra LOVES daycare -as in, she wants to marry daycare and have all of daycare's babies.  She waved to me today, and shouted "BYE!" Directly in my face, all the while wiggling frantically out of my hands.
I was all, "But, Um. OK- BYE! Don't miss me TOO MUCH."

We have been here two weeks, and things are certainly looking up.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

It is not beneath me

To whore out my kid.

Look people, I have NEVER EVER EVER asked you, begged you, or DEMANDED that you vote for me in any sort of capacity. Except for now.  Its not even for me, its for my kid. As in, the Cutest baby in Atlanta contest. Cause hello? She is.
 Will you guys please click the link and rate her a 10, pretty please with a big fat cherry on top? 

Monday, April 12, 2010

Amicalola Falls

Is a lovely place, except when you are carrying a 20 pound sack of wiggly Allessandra. Which, by the way I did not do much of. The one time I was holding her, I fell directly on my ass.  Lucky for me the hill was so damn steep that the ground was not that far away.

I managed to pass her off to her Grandparents most of the way UP, cause, hi! their idea to hike UP A MOUNTAIN and apparently they did not get the memo that I very rarely will carrying anything.  Sometimes, I  trick Josh into holding my purse. Just ask him how much he loves that. Especially when I head out the door with my massive Michael Kors bag that seriously has a tube of chap stick and my wallet set carefully at the bottom. He is all, "I AM NOT CARRYING THAT!" So, fine, I don't make him carry it, I just toss it in the grocery cart, so instead of carrying it, he is responsible for pushing it, that's fair right?
I digress.

We had a glorious day, minus the back pain/leg pain and yeah, ab pain?
Grandpa decided that she wanted to hike up the mountain by herself. Ahh Great minds think alike.
A view looking up
This is me, putting my foot down that we will not take ONE MORE STEP UP THE MOUNTAIN-you can clearly see how out of breath I am.
I let somebody execute their Random Act of Kindness and asked them to take our picture
Allessandra's Grandparents are troopers

Saturday, April 10, 2010

Lazy Saturday

Lazy, except for the 2.5 walk. But how pretty is this?
The walk took like five hours....Cause Allie is like the SLOWEST WALKER EVER.
Just kidding, she just walked at the very end, and it took us fifteen minutes to walk 6 ft.
Then we kicked back and shared a beer or four..
Hahah JUST KIDDING, we don't drink beer around here...we are vodka drinkers all the way.

Needless to say this is how our day ended....

Friday, April 9, 2010

A WTF?! moment that lasted longer than expected

There totally should be a WTF?! Section in What to expect: The toddler years. Called: What to do when your toddler throws up in your  mouth- You know, other then toss her half way across the room in utter disgust. Or pour bleach down your throat. I did neither by the way. In case you were wondering. I did however, turn the shower on full blast, to the burn the skin off your body setting. Which seemed to do the trick, and also since I was still fully clothed, helped fully expel the disgusting from my face and from the front of my shirt.
I am sure those you that are still reading, are all, but how did it get in her mouth? 
 *shakes head*

I think it was when I was in slow motion going, "Nooooooooo (mouth open right about here)oooooo"  Since she most certainly inherited her father's graceful puking technique, which is about as subtle or quiet as a fucking Mac truck backing its way into concrete wall. It was like, I knew it was coming, but I thought that maybe I could "No" it away. Like, if I said it loud enough, she might be all, "OK sure mom, just show me where the toilet is!"

Hi, my name is Chelsea, and today, I got puked on.

Thursday, April 8, 2010

Giving it time...

I was told by a very good friend, that when I am done reading this book, then I am allowed to lose my shit. Although, yesterday I was all with the flipping out, the sobbing hiccups, the snot running down my face. I wanted nothing more then to crawl under a pile of covers and hide. But instead of collapsing- I made myself go out and drive to the library to get that damn book. Now of course since I, you know, haven't lived here longer then a week, did not know enough that I should have gone to the library that was five minutes away, and not the one that required extra gas, rush hour traffic and several big big trucks that sandwiched me repeatedly and were driving all up on my ass- totally without lube. Which is just mean.
To say that I almost cried, would be an understatement. But you know what? I did it. I found that damn library, and I got that damn book. I was told to read all 900 pages of it, and perhaps when its all over, Josh will probably be here, I may have a job, and have lost the extra five pounds that I will most certainly have gained from stress eating, my boobs may have magically gotten bigger, and I will have probably developed voluminous ravishing hair, you know, the kind that Herbal Essences keeps promising me. The point I believe is, I have to give it time.  
I was told yesterday, that moving to a different state is like being a fawn on ice. Which, hello? YES! I am all gangly and awkward, passing out my phone number like I am in first grade giving out snacks for friendship. Trying desperately to stand, but my pesky legs keep shooting out in all directions, and then there is the spinning and the breaking the fall with my face. You get the point. Its tough. But in retrospect two Aprils ago, my life was in just as much turmoil, and I got through that, and I so would rather be here then be back there.


And she is happy. And that's all that really matters anyways.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

8 weeks

Josh left this morning. We wont see him again for about 8 weeks. I am utterly distraught. Not the feeling that I was anticipating, since mostly I am asking him when he is going to leave. But he is my: extra set of hands to hold Allessandra, her diaper bag, the groceries. He pushes the stroller, will feed her, breakfast, lunch or dinner. Will decide what she should eat, when she should eat, and when she should nap-if I am ever, you know, showering or not around to dictate. He drives, and never gets lost. He makes me coffee in the morning and hummus and turkey sandwiches for lunch, even though he despises hummus and makes sure I know that every chance he gets.
He is my partner, and when he is not here. I totally 100% feel it.

Its getting frustrating, I am almost, how do you say this, discouraged.  When Allessandra is practically tearing my eyes out with frustration, from who knows what, my plans of venturing outside, sitting on the internet and applying to jobs, running with her in the stroller, they all come to a crashing halt.
That part is annoying. It sort of makes me want to put her at the end of the driveway.  If she is not happy, no one (meaning me) is.
At least with Josh here, I get a break. Even though some might think her given name is Your Daughter, Josh totally handles crisis crying. In some cases he handles it better then me. Mainly because I am running around like a mad woman, with crazy eyes, suffering from PTSD from that damn plane ride. She starts screaming and I am all,"WE ARE ALL GONNA DIE!"

I am hoping that eight weeks fly by.

Monday, April 5, 2010

Greetings from Georgia

There is nothing like a hot latte at 8PM when it's still 75 out

These are the types of outfits we are forced to wear around here.
I am still actively searching for a job...but if I don't find something soon, we have a back up plan

Sunday, April 4, 2010

Wont You be my Neighbor...

When you live in Georgia, apparently you automatically sign up to live thisclose to your neighbor.

I am used to living in an apartment complex, where it is just an unwritten rule that, you don't see them. Actually, my neighbor was blind. So that truly worked in my favor, except when it would take him for fucking EVER to walk down the hallway. And I am all, can I pass him? Should I warn him? Like, "Passing on your left big guy, BEEP BEEP!"
Anyways, I digress.
Georgia, right. OK, so the houses here are practically connected,which totally caters to my need to know everyone's business. I find myself looking into other people's garages, purely to see if they have anything kid related. Which, in retrospect, is probably not the best way to make friends. Its kind of like I am date raping them with my eyes.

And yesterday, well, I feel as if  I did not make the greatest impression in the neighborhood.
Stay with me here.

My father in law decided to drag a twin mattress to the front of his driveway, and figured that putting a price tag on it, would, hopefully get it stolen. (That's not racist. It's a fact.)
Anyways, my bestest called, and I sauntered my way to the end of the driveway, and since I am lazy as shit, I sat on the mattress.

You know, the mattress...with a big ass sign next to it, that read: 25$.
 If you don't get why people were driving by and pointing, then, well, I would like to pat your head and bottle up your innocence.

A picture full of love. She just adores that hat. You can totally tell by her face.

Now, every time she is upset, or something pisses her off, she screams," MA!" Like, even if I had nothing to do with it.  Its awesome. I like to think that she just thinks I am super awesome and can fix any problem. Except taking off her hat, cause I am close to super gluing it.

Friday, April 2, 2010

I feel like a Hairy Pam Anderson

Sometimes I really don't think things through. Such as packing. For as long as I knew I was going to be moving to Georgia, you would have thought I would have been way more organized. But, again, you would be so wrong.

How, tell me, did I remember to bring the USB cable for the camera, but I forgot essentials, such as my GLASSES and a bra that is not full of padding and liquid? (Shut up) I have one pair of contacts that I seriously put into my eyes in the morning, as if I am performing open heart surgery -and one little slip up will cause immediate death to a box of tiny wet kittens. If I drop one of those little fuckers, I am BLIND until Josh shows up with my glasses and contacts. I can't even imagine the slew of swear words that would come from my face. My in laws would be all, "Have you found a job/house/return ticket-yet?

On the plus side, I wouldn't be able to see the disappointed looks on their faces.

Moving on.

You know that one bra you have? The one bra that gives the girls a little boost? Well in my case, since well, Allessandra took my boobs with her, after she was done sucking the life out of me, my bra is more like implants encrusted in padding. Anyways, I only rock that bra, when I am wearing something that requires me to have boobs, like a shirt with pleating, or any time I feel like lying to myself.

So tell me, why was that bra the one I picked to wear while traveling, and thus the ONLY bra I have until Josh arrives. Was it in case Allessandra dumped a pitcher of water on my chest, and I would be all, "Look it absorbed it all!" I have no idea. All I know is, I feel ridiculous. Plus, its black, and I seemed to only have managed to bring along white tee-shirts. WTF is wrong with me?

I also forgot my razor, and I really don't want to talk about it.

Josh cannot get here fast enough.

Thursday, April 1, 2010

Picture of the Day

Kisses from Momma

Welcome, here is your puke bag!

You know those people on the plane that you feel slightly bad for? The ones with the screaming red faced child, and the mom that is frantically waving her arms, shhhing and making excuses, except no one is really listening, they are too busy rolling their eyes and stuffing their ipods deeper into their ears? Well, I would really like to tell you that woman was me; I would really like to tell you that I handled myself-that I pulled out toys and snacks, all that my darling daugher looked at quietly, while smiling and waving sweetly as her ears popped. But, as you can imagine, I would be lying.

Let me be clear here. If anyone is need of a torture device, you absolutely can have borrow, Allie.

She screamed the ENTIRE FLIGHT. That is two hours and change people. TWO HOURS of me contemplating how I might be able to convince people that she wasn't in fact mine. At one point, I had to just put her in the seat next to me, which was empty thank God, and throw up into one of those fantastic paper bags they keep in the seat in front of you. The in case your child is flipping her shit, and you have had stomach flu bag. So now, people were witnessing my daughter try to claw my eyes out with aggravation, and meanwhile in between the pauses where she caught her breath, I would puke. Into a tiny bag, in front of many people. I guess I could have just shit myself and then called it a day. But somehow, I managed to keep it together. You would think that the airline would, you know, be helpful, but you would be wrong. They avoided us like our skin was falling off our faces in clumps.

 Mercifully, the plane landed. Thankfully, I did not have much with me, because I would have shouted "Fuck it, TAKE IT ALL!" Right before I knocked down fifteen people and an old lady.

I spent yesterday throwing up and trying to sleep. But here I am, Day 2, rested, sipping coffee, the best part about moving to Georgia is there is no return flight. Next time, for serious, I am drugging her. Judge me all you want, but I am guessing you NEVER THREW UP ON A PLANE IN FRONT OF EVERYONE WHILE YOUR CHILD TRIED TO TAKE DOWN THE PLANE WITH HER SCREAMS.

And, if you did, please tell me. I would enjoy feeling better about this.

This like 7AM, still DARK!

Allie's new car, she likes to climb in thru the window. Awesome.