Bumper Sticker of the Day

This one will only be funny to some people.  Others will probably be indifferent because they won't get the joke.

Trust me, it isn't a good joke.  Just a joke.

The bumper sticker said:  TRUST ME.  I'M A DRUMMER.

I know alot of drummers.  I guess not a LOT.  But probably more than the average non-musical girl.  And on The Trust Scale of 1 to 10...1 being "no, you can't borrow my car at anytime ever even if I'm dead" and 10 being "sure, take my kid to King's Island and have a blast,"...I can say that drummers as a whole get a whopping -36 on The Trust Scale.  I think there is one drummer I know that may get a 2.  Meaning that if I were, in fact, no longer walking the earth he could potentially borrow my car.

And those of you who know a drummer know EXACTLY what I'm talking about.  Flakey, flakey, flakey...

But all you drummers out there know I love you.  :)

Twilight, Schmwilight...

This is for all of my Twilight-loving friends out there.  Y'all know who you are.  If I had a cat, I'd train it to say and do this:

I am actually thinking of getting a cat for NO OTHER REASON than training it to do this. Ahh, who am I kidding?? Cats can't be trained.

Are there any other anti-Twilighters out there?? Hello?

The Thanksgiving That Wasn't

I took a total of three pictures on Thanksgiving.  And none of them are of actual Thanksgiving.  Go figure.

I took one of Jayna and Chris chillin' on the couch in the early morning hours and two of Jayna completely zonked out in the car on the way home.  Truthfully, the zonked out picture says it all.

Thanksgiving seemed a little strange to me this year.  Maybe it was because I felt like hell.  I had a mega-cold and sneezed probably 35 times (not exaggerating) before we even left our house.  Maybe it was because we had the time constraint of a growing 15-month-old.  She took a 2 hour nap on Thursday morning and we though she'd be good until 5 or so.  Nope.  She was ready for a nap at around 2:30pm.  Why was she so sleepy?  That part comes next...I think.

On Thanksgiving day and the day after, Jayna had about 10 dirty diapers...diarrhea.  Fun times.  Poor kid.  Her belly troubles began before she even ate Thanksgiving dinner, but we just thought the ravioli from Wednesday night didn't agree with her.  We were apparently wrong.  Some ravioli doesn't cause severe diarrhea.  She also woke up quite a few times that night.

At around 10:00pm, I was in the same boat as Jayna.  Virus much?  So I slept about 2.5 hours Thanksgiving night.  Chris' parents came over to our house that night instead of us going over there...and good thing.  We probably would've run out of diapers at their house.  And besides that I really felt like dying.  I haven't had a cold this bad in a LONG time.  I just want to sleep.

So all in all, I just didn't feel the Thanksgiving spirit this year.  Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday...mostly because the only expectations are to eat too much and to make enough to have leftovers for a week.  But this year it just didn't seem so.  Christmas is right around the corner, so we'll try again.

How did y'all fare this Turkey Day??

Jayna at 15 Months

Last Saturday, Jayna turned 15 months old.  And as Chris says, she's now 1.25.  I won't bore you with my "Oh, where has the time gone?" speech again.  Still.

She is officially a toddler.  I still refer to her as a baby because I can.  I am entitled.  She's only 15 months old, you know.

She had her 15 month well-baby checkup yesterday and all is well and good.  She still hates doctors.  And I do mean hate.  She clung to me like glue and cried and cried and cried.  And then she cried some more.  It has come to my attention that I never blogged about her one year well-baby checkup, so for posterity I'll put that in a nutshell (haha) first and then do the 15 month stuff.

So, at Jayna's one year doc visit, I was told that she was fat.  Literally.  I was told to cut back her milk consumption and to not give her candy and cake.  Because she has cake twice a day, you know.  She weighed 26 lbs. 4 oz. at one year old.  She was 29 inches long.  She was in the 98th or so percentile for her weight and the 50th percentile for her height.  Her weight to height ratio was in the 97th percentile, thus making her "obese."  Please.  She's a baby.  She's chunky.  Seriously.

So after wallowing in self-pity for a day and then talking to my good friend Laura (who has a miniature baby) and my mom (who had normal sized babies), I was okay with Jayna being "obese."  I continued to NOT feed her candy and cake twice a day and cut her milk consumption to around 12 oz. a day instead of 20.  She was getting extra calcium from yogurt and cheese anyway.  So there.

Yesterday she weighed 26 lbs. 15 oz. and is 30.5 inches long.  I think she's a little longer than that (probably more like 31 inches) but we can't be sure because of her thrashing around on the height measurer thingy. 

So, in essence, she's had a decent growth spurt in her height and only gained 11 oz. in 3 months.  Who's obese now, bitches? 

Sorry.  That was me talking.  Not Jayna.  She doesn't know that word.  Yet.  Stick with me, kid, and you'll learn lots of words.

Jayna is doing wonderfully.  She's discovered running and has thus discovered falling down ALOT.  She throws tantrums and gives the sweetest kisses.  She uses her charm to her advantage.  She's learning at the speed of freakin' light.  She still adores Sesame Street.  She loves her doggies more than ever.  And she is so cuddly right now that I melt atleast once a day.  And that kid loves me.  I mean, she absolutely loves me.  She asks for me and looks for me when I'm gone and is happy to see me when I return.  We're on the same page again and I can't get enough of it.

She is talking more and more...but in an unknown language.  She seems to be putting together sentences in that language.  It's pretty funny.  Yesterday she said, "Mama, more cookie."  What??  HOLY SHIT!!  My little girl just said a sentence!!  Awesome.  Oh...and to her a cookie is an animal cracker.  And she isn't obese anymore so she can have them. :)

She dances like a pro and sings just as well.  She loves music and asks me to sing for her atleast 3 times a day.  She loves the alphabet song and the itsy bitsy spider.  She even says good night to her songs (her CD player with a kid's CD in it) at night.

Enough yapping.  Here's what y'all really care about:

Cuddling with bunny and blankie in the car.

Enough pictures mom!

A girl and her dog Moe.

Big girl eating off of a plate and NOT dumping it on the floor. (We have yet for this to happen again.)

Daddy's home!!!  YAY!

A girl sitting on her dog Ollie.  And he loves it!

I'm not sure how we ended up with such a cute and wonderful kid.  This means we'll "pay for our raising" when she's a teenager.  Oh dear.  We'll enjoy her good behavior and adorableness while it lasts. :)

Losing Sleep

I'm not sure where this entry is going or what I'm trying to say, but here is the list of things I think about while I *should* be restfully sleeping:

• Our homeowner's insurance recently came up for renewal.  My agent contacted me and told me that she was going to get it requoted and that I may be able to save money if I bundled homeowner's and auto.  We tried doing this 5 years ago when we bought our house, but it wouldn't have saved us any money.  In November of 2006, Chris was in an accident...with a HUGE concrete flower pot.  He swerved to miss someone who was crossing traffic without paying attention and instead of totaling his car AND the other guy's car, he hit a huge ass concrete flower pot.  The other driver admitted fault and it is IN the police report.  We had to fight with Progressive to get it ruled as a no fault for Chris.  They changed the ruling and then out of principle (I'm known to do things like this out of principle) we switched insurance companies.  So, back to the present day...I got the new quotes on our homeowner's and auto bundled policy and the ruling has been switched back to fault for Chris.  What.  The.  F$%!*&^K?????   I'm still saving money with the bundled policy, but it's the principle of the matter.  I'm still deciding if I want to fight with Progressive over it.  Will it be worth the hassle??
• Jayna has been the perfect mix of cute/cuddly/lovable/happy and sneaky/frustrated/insane/whiny.  Yesterday she wouldn't leave my side.  She wanted me to hold her on the couch and rub her hair so she could watch Elmo.  And today she showered me in oatmeal and screamed at me because I was trying to feed her breakfast.  The joys of toddlers.
• I have a difficult time making decisions, but when I make one it's DONE.  Chris and I have been throwing around the idea of moving.  Our house is shrinking and it's very frustrating.  So, with the help of the new homebuyer's tax credit and some finagling with our mortgage, we ARE moving.  I've decided.  This will be news to my husband when he reads this.  That should be interesting.  We are probably going to have to take a small loss on our house, but that could be made up for if we get a steal on a new place.  We'll just have to see.
• I'm pretty sure I need to see a therapist.  I mean I *could* just go to the doctor and get a prescription for anti-depressants, but I'd rather try other means first.  I don't feel depressed, but I'm having a difficult time dealing with things.  There is no middle ground or rationale in my head these days.  Everything is the end of the world and I take things more personally now than I ever have in the past.  I think talking through some things would be beneficial.  I am writing about this here to try and remove some of the stigma.  I don't want to feel ashamed or admonished because of it and I hope it helps.  We'll see.

Bumper Sticker of the Week: Catch-Up

So I didn't see like ANY bumper stickers for three weeks or something.  I know.  Crazy.  Here are some reader submissions:

My mom saw this bumper sticker - "Guns kill people like spoons made Rosie O'Donnell fat."  Who doesn't love a good Rosie O'Donnell fat joke?  I hate that woman and I would even if she was slim and pretty.  She's just...a waste of space.

My friend Holly saw this classic - "If you're going to ride my ass atleast pull my hair!"  I've always been a big fan of this one because I HATE tailgating.  I rarely do it and I really want to SLAM on my brakes when someone does it to me.

And yesterday on my way home, I saw this little gem:  "CAUTION:  I DRIVE LIKE YOU!"  Hahahahaha!!  As Dave Barry says, "The one thing that unites all human beings, regardless of age, gender, religion, economic status or ethnic background, is that deep inside, we ALL believe we are above average drivers."  I think I'd actually put this sticker on my car.

What have y'all been seein?

Hope for the best.

Prepare for the worst, but hope for the best.  I try to live by that phrase.  I think it is the perfect pessimistic/optimistic mixture of a motto.  Maybe we'll call that realistic for now.  But in reality, it isn't realistic.  That was a funny sentence...

Last Friday Jayna woke up in a good mood.  She was happy and smiley and cuddly.  And then it was time to leave.  And then she threw a fit.  So I took her to the babysitter, said my goodbyes and began to prepare myself for what the evening would bring...quite possibly a Friday night from hell.

Prepare for the worst.  Develop a worst case scenario and determine how I will deal with said scenario if it happens.  Worst case scenario:  She doesn't nap all day and is just plain grouchy.  CHECK!!  Her teeth hurt.  CHECK!!  Her nose is running off of her face.  CHECK!!  She has No. Idea. What.  She wants.  DOUBLE CHECK!!

How will I deal with this?  With compassion.  CHECK!!  With lots of kisses and cuddles and cheerios and crackers and juice.  CHECK!!  With Elmo.  CHECK!!  With Blue's Clues.  CHECK!!  With playtime and no chores.  CHECK!!  With one-on-one attention.  CHECK!!  With patience.  Errr...(crickets chirping).

I had patience.  I did.  I had patience right up until she started slapping me in the face and trying to bite me directly followed by lying her sweet little head on my shoulder and hugging me.  I had patience until she kicked the dog.  I had patience until she wanted me to hold her and put her down AT THE SAME TIME.  And I had patience until I took a juice cup to the head.  A juice cup to the head immediately followed by the most adorable snotty kisses I've EVER received.  I had it together until this plethora of insanity happened within a matter of minutes.  The minutes that just happened to be the ones immediately preceding daddy's arrival.

Oh, glorious daddy!!  Daddy who doesn't get a juice cup to the head or slaps to the face but, alas, still receives those wonderfully sweet hugs and adorable snotty kisses.  Daddy who can make it all better by simply being daddy...by simply walking through the damn door.  I wonder what his plan was.  I can tell you.  He didn't have one.  He prefers the "fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants" approach.

I then passed the torch to daddy.  I kept my distance for the remainder of the evening, all the while wondering what I did wrong and what I exactly did to deserve a juice cup to the head.  I wondered why my cuddles weren't good enough.  Why my shoulder wasn't comfortable enough.  Why my tickles were upsetting while daddy's were funny.  And why my cheerios were thrown at the dog while daddy's were eagerly eaten up.  Why I ever thought I could be a mom.  Why I can't do anything right.  Why she hates me.  Why.  Why.  Why.

And while daddy and Jayna played and played and ate dinner and played some more, I did dishes and cleaned while quite possibly shedding the most tears I've shed since Jayna was around 2 months old.  I just couldn't fathom why I wasn't good enough.  Why she didn't like me.

It's days like last Friday that force me to include the last part of the motto...hope for the best.  When all I have is hope that things will get better.  Hope that tomorrow, or the next day, my cuddles will be warm and fuzzy and my cheerios will be yummy.  You see, as a mom, you MUST hope for the best.  Because it is simply impossible to prepare for the worst.  You don't know the worst until it's throwing juice cups at your head and causing you to doubt your very existence. 

The following few days got better.  My cuddles became fuzzy again.  My tickles were the funniest and the juice cup was very politely handed to me with the sweetest "mama" that I've ever been called.  We were back on the same page.  But it was the simple hope that things would get better that made my tickles funny.  That made that "mama" so very sweet in my ears.  And it truly is the best when she's happy.

Through this experience, my motto was condensed.  Hope for the best.  Plain and simple.  Don't even think about the worst because it's going to happen whether you prepare for it or not...and you STILL won't be prepared.  Hope for the best.  A mom's words to live by.