First Place Baby

Today I am babysitting my niece, Avery, and while I don't have time to even be writing this, I am.  She is sitting next to make talking like a maniac, flinging Ramen noodles at Bea, while chomping on a green pepper.  She is quite possibly the stinking cutest thing I have ever seen.

Ave, the cheese & Bea, the scavenger. 

Oddly enough, this is the first time EVER that I have had Ramen.  Yep, 30 years old and never touched the stuff.  It isn't for me.  The "essence of powered chicken" packet absolutely disturbs me.  The noodles are inhumanly too long and I am not sure whether I am supposed to drain the water or if it was supposed to absorb and I did it wrong.  I'm over it. Sorry Avery, I am not making that weird crap again.

Bea has eaten better today than any other day in her life.  She sits at the foot of the highchair waiting for a morsel to drop or for Ave's hand to become within reach of her mouth.  It's actually quite amusing to watch her tease Bea. She will wiggle her hand over the edge then withdrawl it at the last second and stuff the fistful of peppers, turkey, ramen, cucumbers, whatever, into her own mouth.

It is strange to me to see someone so small walking, communicating, being a little stink pot.  I did this once before with my own child, but she is 10 now and I have long since forgotten all these little things.  Like saying "meow" to a kitty 3,491 times in a half hour. Or saying "uh oh" when she pulls the ornaments off my Christmas tree.  Even giggling uncontrollably as the dog decides she is better than a washcloth and cleans Ave's face with her tongue.  She is the sweetest little bean.  I remember my own being this sweet and I don't at the same time.  I know she was. I know she was a very happy baby who spoke well and got into little mischief, but since Alanna is no longer small, Ave get's first place in the best baby category.

The Browns lost the Superbowl

Day 5. One incredible day.  I had highs, and lows, and moments where I was doubled over, dying laughing, & not breathing while my abs were screaming at me because they needed oxygen.

I woke up to Alanna wiggling both Home Alone and Home Alone 2: Lost in New York under my nose.

"Ohhh Mommmm... Look what I have...."
Ugh. What is it?! Ooooooo! Home Alone. I'm up! I'm up!
"Well that's one way to get me out of bed, isn't it?"
"I know your weaknesses."
Who is this kid?  Pinning me between laying in my warm bed and watching Home Alone?  HOW WONDERFUL!
Uh, Mom? What is that?

She points to my sheets and I drowsily roll over and then shudder and scoot out of bed with a squeal.
What the %^&* is it?!
Laying amidst my sheets, probably touching me all damn night was a brown nugget of wonder.  And two little nugget remnants.  WTF?  I don't know what it is.

Instantly the following dialog happened:
"Mom, did you push a fart out too hard?"
"Did Bea drop off the Browns from the Superbowl IN MY BED?"
"We slept with a creepy poo nugget? Really?"
"Wait, wait...."

Alanna made certain not to touch it.

I had to get down close.  A) Because I am a mother and we have to smell foreign objects to figure out what they are.  Even when it's poo.  B) Because I wasn't exactly convinced someone crapped in my bed.
And it wasn't crap after all. It was an apple core... and the apple butt... and a seed. What the mother scratching eff was it doing in my bed? I am still not sure, but I know that I am disturbed and slightly scarred from this event.  What a successful morning.

We watched Home Alone (not the sequel) in our jammies away from the poo bed.

Tonight was nothing short of the same as this morning.  We cried with laughter 36 different times.

"Mom, decide between The Grinch, Elf, and The Santa Clause."
The third one is definitely out.  And while I love me some Will Ferrell.. a lot... I decided on my second favorite Christmastime movie.
"Go Grinchy or go home."
"Somebody's FAAAAAABULOUS!"

What a damn perfect day. No agenda, one poo in my bed, and my bird spoiling me with two Christmas movies.  I've created a monster.... my favorite monster EVER!

Me, myself, and my equilibrium

Day 3 has gone off with out a hitch.

It's a whopping 45 degrees out and the sun is shining!  It decided to peak through the window onto the living room floor earlier, so I decided to lay in the sliver of light soaking in the Vitamin D. Of course, Lincoln, my fuzzy little black cat, followed suit and laid with me. I love when black cats lay in the sun and are instantly brown.  Like it's an optical illusion or something.  Oh, you're not really a black cat? Way to trick me with your hair color tomfoolery.

Bob Dylan, My Sick Boy with the pretty eyes

I have three black cats by the way.  Lincoln lives at my parents house while Bob Dylan and Lucy live with me. Dylan has been incredibly sick lately. He has these crunchy, disgusting, sores all over his neck and head. He also likes to puke whatever he puts in his system. When I took him to the vet she told me to change his food and be on my way.  I paid you $100 to tell me to change his food to prescription vet food that I can't afford?  Hmmm... sounds kind of like a BIGFATGIGANTIC scam to me.

Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds -
 Do you see those damn claws in my thigh?

Lucy, however, annoys the ever living daylights out of me.  She is the kind of cat that not only talks to you all the time, but she also rubs her butt on you whenever possible. Especially when you are going to the bathroom.  As soon as she hears me walk in there it is like "What? Mom's going pee?  I am soooo getting a butt rub!"  And if you give her affection, the talking increases.  Muffled, purring, cries of kittiness.  I also pick her nose.  Yup, I said it.  I pick her nose.  For some reason every fuzzy piece of dust on the planet lodges itself directly into her nostrils. So I help a girl out and take care of her business for her.  I know she is grateful in her own kitty way. Maybe that is why she rubs her butt all over me.
Sometimes I wonder what she would be like as a human? Would she still have this ass-fetish?  Awkward.


The phone just rang and it was Alanna's school calling:
"Hi, we have Alanna here wanting to speak to you. Would you like to talk to her?"
No. No I wouldn't. Really? You have to ask?  
"Yes, of course."
"Hi, Mom?"
"Hey birdy, what's going on?"
"Yeah so my asthma is really bugging me. It hurts super bad in my solar plexus."
What ten year old talks like this, honestly? 
"Honey, I'm sorry you're feeling bad, but it's not something to come home over. Go back to class and we will discuss it when you get home okay?"
"Okay Mom. Love your face. Bye!"
This warrants a phone call? And who complains about their solar plexus?  WTH?! My daughter is so strange sometimes and I have absolutely no idea where she would ever get it from.

Time for a nap I think. I could go rake my 8 billion leaves, but my bed sounds so much better. Especially when I feel like I am just going to fall over.  Oooo, I could fall over in the leaves....

Day Two: A Day of Nausea

Over the course of the last month, I have gone through some incredible life changes and there is nothing else for me to do than to document every moment of it.

Here is a slight recap of those extraordinary (and when I say extraordinary I really mean shitty as all hell) events:

October 13, 2012 - I quit smoking (again) the day before I turned the big 3-0!
October 14, 2012 - I turned 30. Enough said.
October 27, 2012 - Fired from my job of 8 years by my Adolph Hitler of a Store Manager.  Oh and not alone, with 4 of my coworkers because one customer apparently complained to corporate.  Really?!
November 6, 2012 - Election Day - I stopped my anti-depressants, though picked up my new bottle of Xanex from the pharmacy, just in case. 

(Even Beatrice does tricks for Xanex...)

Which leads me to today.  

Not only do I have absolutely nothing to do other than to rake the 8 billion (times infinity) leaves that have fallen on my property, but all I want to do is step outside and light up an disgusting tasting cancer stick and puff my life's troubles away.  Who would have known that I would quit 14 days before I needed them the most.  *sigh*

Day 2 of being off my meds is always the hardest day for me.  I always want to just run to the cupboard and pop a pill in my mouth and make this shaky, vertigo-esque feeling go away. And the crying is off the charts.  I thought about unemployment today in the shower and began weeping.  I mean, it is pretty depressing.  I have experienced "Day Two" so many times by accident.  Forgetting to take my meds for a day gives me a full blown Day Two.  I would usually curb that by taking a pill and a two or three hour nap and waking to find that I am having no more side effects.  Ugh...not today.  I am going to be feeling like this for a hot minute.  

These sweatpants are not leaving my body today. Neither is this ungodly comfortable hoodie.  Is it a day to lay in bed and be a complete sloth on humanity? I am going to say yes to this.