Can’t Sleep, Clowns Will Eat Me

It’s not only an Alice in Chains song, it’s an overused quote from The Simpsons, commonly heard in our house when were upset about something and can’t quite find the words to express W’s (What, Who, Where, Why). Except for this time, I had to change it a little, because I knew the who, so I said, “Can’t sleep, the Clown will eat us…” when A came in at midnight to see why I was still up and desperately staring at the computer screens with 34 tabs open across them. Most of them were already bookmarked, we’d looked at them before, some were newer from this year, even this summer. We had plans to leave the country in 2017, 2018, and 2019. Financial setbacks are a bitch. Add in not being able to sell your house without losing your ass, and it just plain sucks. COVID-19 lockdowns REALLY put a hamper on our searches. “Best Countries to Raise a Family”, “Countries Open to Americans”, “How to Apply for a Second Passport”, “Leaving the Country Fast”, “Sell Your House or Rent it Out?”, “RV Living On A Budget” were the first few that he could see. “You’re going to drive yourself crazy looking at this tonight. You need to get some sleep.” I know that. But how can I sleep?! How can anyone sleep know that the shred of hope for democracy died today? Ruth Bader Ginsberg, is, dead. 

A is forever looking at the news during dinner, I have been the opposite since the kids were born, I get the ‘readers digest’ version through him and a few select, trusted, individuals. So when I was eating and working, as per usual, and he told me to stop eating and stop working to listen to him, I was a bit taken aback. He never demands attention for news that way, he’ll just tell me, I multitask like a mother, cause mothers will multitask like none other, (note that I was eating and working and that was not out of the norm). “RBG is dead… you know what they are doing right now… “ 

You know that loud high-pitched ringing noise you heard after your ears pop? That’s all I could hear. I felt sick. Then I heard him say, “Look babe, I’m upset too, but don’t take this so personally, it’s like they’re coming for you.”

But “they” are. 

It IS personal because I’m a woman. Fear has a firm grip on me as my kids eat their popsicles on a rare, but warm, September evening. I’m terrified, we’re not ready. 

“They” being the over-privileged, old, white, wealthy men in power. They are coming for my children who are mixed-raced and lower-middle class. …

They are coming after my daughters ability to make choices for her own body and future family. We carry a wonderfully fucked gene that could’ve caused her to not even make it to birth, we had a great maternal-fetal-medicine doctor who took amazing care of us and found that hers was as severe as it could be, but it’s a risk. My son could father children with the same issue, his partner should be able to make the choice to terminate a pregnancy before getting to that point. Obviously, now we know more about it to make better, more informed choices, but there should be choices, options, for them. They are coming, using “religion”*, to fight against choices for future generations. Not that They care about the children once they are born. The voting record of those who are against abortion shows they care not for social programs that would help those who need it, who would’ve had an abortion had they been given the option, knowing the struggle of raising a child. Now add in a child with a disability and holy hell you’ll see some “compassionate Christians” who are anti-abortion but won’t give that now 2-year-old needing therapy a dime towards anything. It is not “pro-life”, it is “pro-birth”, and with all the ‘conspiracy theories’ my sister has been throwing my way about #savethechildren it seems to be the easiest link between of them is that the Republican Party wants to do away with abortions so they can have more children to kidnap and sacrifice for their crazy youth serum. They’ve already shown they’re not afraid to put children in cages, right in front of you, but it’s okay when it is someone else’s kid, someone who Fox News can make you think is doing something “illegal” even though it’s not. Coming to the U.S. border seeking asylum from your country, even passing through other shitty countries who have deals with your home country to send you back, is, in fact completely legal. Which is why people do it every year if they can survive the trek. 

I’m scared. I’m tired of fighting with my family to try to get them to care about other people. I’m tired of trying to get other people to care about other people. I just want out, mostly out of my own house at this point. I don’t want to even try to fix this country anymore. For those who are screaming so loudly about being patriotic are not holding up the values of basic patriotism. So I am at a loss and can’t reconcile how some people claiming Orange Chicken Shit is “so American”. 

To me, being a Patriotic American meant: 

  1. Knowing the Bill of Rights – Like actually knowing it, not just knowing that it exists, which sadly some people don’t even know that much
  2. The Pledge of Allegiance – Say it, but if you’re not going to say it then being quiet while it is said, not booing when someone takes a knee. The point of free speech and is that you can respectfully resist and disagree. 
  3. We Ain’t Perfect – Understanding our flawed and SHORT history and that we are STILL growing we are NOT Great, so there is no way to make America Great Again, it was never great, to begin with, it’s not going to be great anytime soon, just another broken promise from yet another dirty “new” politician. Congrats, Trump, you’re now just like all those other gross politicians. 
  4. Melting Pot – Not pretending to be “colorblind” and appreciate all the differences we have and what our experiences can bring to the table. It could be such a delicious dinner if we could just appreciate each other rather than hate each other. 
  5. Community Involvement – You are supposed to be involved in your community. This not only helps you be a better neighbor but you’ll see the issues that need to be fixed before they become a bigger problem, bring them up to the elected officials’ attention, and make sure it’s taken care of from there. If it’s not, vote someone else in who will take care of the issues. Which leads into…
  6. VOTING – Jesus, it wasn’t so long ago that not everyone here could vote. Now only those who have REALLY broken the law, or live in a fucked up area oppressed by systemic racism, are unable to vote. 

These are the things I’ve taught at rifle clinics, started to teach my own children through my daily actions and how we speak, yet now. I’m just done. I’ve lost faith in our country. I don’t want to be patriotic for the United States of America anymore. I would rather just watch this country burn to the ground and start over but I know what that bloodshed will mean. I don’t know that I could live with that kind of bloodshed. Both A and I, our fathers, went to Vietnam, we have other family who served in the military. My siblings are currently in different branches, serving now. I understand the gravity of the statement. The PTSD A’s father went through when he returned, the subsequent abuse A and his brother endured as a result of that PTSD, A’s pride in his family’s military service. I understand. It’s not a flippant statement like a child throwing a fit screaming “I hate you” to their loving parent when they don’t get their way, when I say, “I don’t want to be an American anymore.” 

So it wasn’t at all surprising for A to hear it, he knows all of this, and he will always preface his response with a, “You know my grandfather would be rolling in his grave if he could hear us talking right now?” but even he agreed tonight. 

I’m done listening to Trumpsters screaming Nazi slogans saying it’s patriotism. It’s not. It’s hatred. 

I don’t want to be in a country filled with hate. I don’t have enough light to see in this darkness. I want my kids to be able to see light.  

A is back to tell me to go to sleep again… I guess I should try. Wish me luck in that endeavor. 


*I say “religion” in quotes as someone who believes in God and identifies generally as a non-denominational Christian



I’m a solid fan of not taking antibiotics unless you need them because I fucking FEAR shit like this… and then… this shit is happening… 

I took my daughter to get her ingrown toenails removed because it’s been bad, they’ve been infected more times than I care to remember and she’s not even three yet. 

Doc: We’re going to remove the sides of her toenail to *hopefully* permanently remove the ingrown, deal with it now so she won’t have further issues. But we have to do it at the hospital, so she can be sedated because she’s two and won’t sit still for numbing shots and me digging around in her toe. 

Me: okay makes sense… no antibiotics, sterile environment, okay fine. 

@3 days post-op (over the weekend)

ME: it’s looking pretty gnarly… *sends pictures and email* she says it hurts. *thinking – I should probably just take her in.*

Doc: no, pictures are a little cutoff, but that looks normal. keep soaking 2xday and bandages. We’re slammed in here so won’t be able to see her until March anyways. 

ME: okay. *follows directions*

*background* – I sent pictures of a rash to her pediatrician when she was 5 months old. We went in the next day and she showed me how those pictures came across on their side. They were warped, distorted and blurry. She said the best thing to do when sending pictures from phones was to take as many close-up pictures as possible and send them together so they could compare to get a good idea of what was going on, think of it like putting the puzzle pieces together. So that’s where my brain went when I got the response from this doctor, Oh, it’s not coming through clearly. He literally cannot CLEARLY see how infected this shit is. *takes more pictures*

@ 5 days…

ME: *sends pictures* are you sure doc, this looks pretty bad and while she whines a lot she’s a bit of a spartan in handling pain and still saying OUCHIE soooo…

Doc: Nope still good. follow up with more pictures at 7 -10 days

ME: *calls the office* explains that she is complaining of pain

Office nurse: that’s normal, it hurts, Tylenol and soaking, any walk-in doc will think it’s infected and give her antibiotics she doesn’t even need. 

ME: okay, if I’m overreacting then fine… okay… this is okay *FEELS LIKE ROOM IS ON FIRE* 

@7 days

ME: HEY DOC HERE ARE MORE PICTURES… This is bad, should I be taking her to walk-in if you’re too busy to see her?

Doc office: *calls me* you might be soaking it too much it looks pretty wet, let’s try to keep it dry at night.

ME: okay… *Follows directions with a sinking feeling in the pit of my gut* 

… we went back and forth like this where I would send pictures and follow up with a call saying “I think this is infected, I’m not trying to push for antibiotics for nothing but this seriously looks like it NEEDS antibiotics”… and got a trivial “let’s try this” as a response. more soaking, less soaking, more dry, less bandaging, until finally my response was essentially FUCK YOU ALL I’M TAKING HER IN…

@Day 10 

walk-in doctor: *as she is walking in* I saw the emails you sent this doctor and I have some choice words for him. those are some seriously infected toes …

*Going through the steps to swab her feet* “I’m giving her an antibiotic and will call you if I find something stronger growing here… it will probably be something stronger so be prepared to answer your phone” as I internally FREAK THE FUCK OUT

@Day 11

Low and behold she called while I was in my doctor’s appointment for my own illness (ear infection with sinus issues), I missed the call, so she called my husband. 

Fun side-story, when your husband isn’t expecting a call from a hospital while in BFE doing fieldwork and they asked, “Are you the father of XXXX? Can you verify her date of birth?” it’s a quick way to give him an immediate anxiety attack. ANYWAYS. He talks with the walk-in doc about what is going on and basically, she should’ve had antibiotics coming out of the hospital. Yes, surgery was sterile but it’s a breeding ground of gross shit and I should have trusted my gut. 

The current plan is that she is on the strongest antibiotic they can prescribe for at home since the STRONGEST one tastes like gasoline, so they have to give that one via IV. So if she is not showing massive signs of improvement within 72 hours we have to take her to the ER to be admitted for said IV drugs. It’s cool… I’m totally fine, this isn’t something that is going to throw our family’s routine or life totally out of whack at all. 

However: We are LUCKY enough to have medical coverage AND coverage through the state we live in due to her pre-existing conditions (until she is a certain age). My husband is at a level in his company where he can make arrangements with work to take the week off or work from home. I work from home with a flexible job where I could work from the hospital room if needed. We are LUCKY to be in this position. Many others in our country are not. Many others would question going into walk-in simply because of the copay being more than they could afford that week. Most of us have been there and could easily be there again depending on various factors. So I am very grateful that I could take her into the walk-in clinic during my very fuck-you-to-that-one-doctor moment. 

But all I can think is – FUCKITY FUCK FUCK FUCKITY FUCK 


I’m mad at the doctor for brushing it off, but I’m madder at myself for not trusting my gut. I work from home with a VERY flexible job. I could’ve taken her in at any time. ANY FUCKING TIME. I could’ve caught this earlier. Could it have been avoided? I have zero clues and frankly, I’m too scared to google search it. 

My point is, trust your gut when something seems off …

And get antibiotics when leaving the hospital …


Dear New Teacher,

Dear New Teacher, 


Sweet, sheltered, naive teacher. I am, unapologetically, going to be your worst nightmare. I never wanted to be, yet here we are. Let me first explain why. On top of the general tears and fears of parents sending their babies off to school I have new world issues to deal with. My other problem? I’ve been there. I’ve taught. I had a year-long student teaching role. I’ve spent years subbing in schools here and in other states. I taught my own 3rd/4th combo class. I KNOW how schools work and I know what you are supposed to be doing.


My child, with whom you are supposed to care for during a large chunk of the day along with his classmates, took more money to conceive than your teaching degree cost. Even at the college you bought, er, earned, your degree from. He and his twin were our rainbow babies, notice that past tense there and that there is only one child enrolled. We’ve lost a lot. A lot of time, energy, money, possibilities, children, emotions, relationships, and more. We hold tight to this child because he is our miracle. Fitting that all this is going through my brain on National Rainbow Baby Day. So it concerns me greatly when you so flippantly reply to my concerns. You stated “those shootings only happen in big cities” when I expressed concern for my child’s placement and asked what your shelter in place procedures were going to be during this year. It worries me that you don’t have any understanding of the massive panic attack I was hit with upon noticing my child’s placement in the classroom. He is the first seat coming in from the door, with his back to the door. Your classroom is the first classroom nearest the K/1st-grade exit door. I don’t want my son, or any other child, with their back to the door that close to an entrance/exit door. I don’t care how distracting it may be. I care that these kids have a chance to live, even if that means running and hiding. I am in tears even typing this out. This is not the world I want for our children. I have great anxiety in a state where 90 plus percent of the population owns two or more firearms. I have huge anxiety over a door that (thanks to my subbing there often) I know is often left open, in a school with no gates and street access. I have an unbelievable amount of anxiety over what if’s. 


When you break an anxiety attack down it really does seem to be the overwhelming reaction to too many “what if’s”. My husband knows this and while he himself has never had an anxiety attack, he’s witnessed enough of mine. He grabbed my hand and pointed out that we can see his classroom and said door from our front window. Guess who is moving their desk to said window… that’d be me. Not knowing that the door is often left open he tried to point it out as a quick escape route for our son rather than an easy entrance for a predator. 


I have worked in various roles and know a great variety of people. This is great when I have a question and terrible when I hear their experiences. Such as my friend who is a public defender. You know, the person who defends those without the means to provide their own attorney. Or as she put it, those who attorneys will not take because they are so blatantly guilty it is too difficult a task to find a loophole to allow their release. This leads to knowing too much about crimes committed against children, felons possessing (and using) firearms and more than I ever wanted to know about the evils of our society. The worst part is that I know about the things that happen in our town, not some far off distant “big city”. I stated on your “facebook” group release that ‘heads will roll if I see a picture with my child on social media’ and you tried to argue that your “closed” group was a safe place. Sweet new teacher, no social media group is a safe place. School isn’t even a safe place anymore. I specifically moved to a house close enough to see this school so that I wouldn’t have to worry so much about sexual predators, I still do, OBVIOUSLY. But I have legit taken even step possible to shield my child from harm. So for you to argue that your group is “safe” I am over here so proud of myself for not strangling you. You also made a comment that “some studies show it helps increase parent-student communication” and I asked for ONE. I know it’s been close to ten years since I was in a college class on teaching but I want to see just ONE reliable study that shows that. I want to know how you posting pictures of my kid is going to foster a conversation rather than make him more narcissists and checking “how many people liked that?” Just one. Show me ONE. This passion you have for pushing social media in the classroom just tells me that is you’re going to be on your phone on Facebook all damn day. 

You never asked about any of this, and why would you? To you, I am a stay-at-home mom with a child going into the public school system who worries too much. I felt the same way when I taught my own first classroom. I distinctly remember thinking,  “why are they so worried? I am going to take great care of their children.” I did. They were worried about social/educational reasons, will their child be liked, will they behave, will they learn at the same pace, will they listen, etc. I am lucky to have my background and opportunity to put my child in a great preschool in order to get past those worries early on. Now, I am just concerned about my child’s safety. 


You are a first-year teacher with less than a quarter of “student teaching” and a 3-week “long-term” sub position. FYI, three weeks ain’t friggin long-term. You have close to no real experience handling students let alone their parents. So I am TRYING to be patient, I am struggling to help you communicate, and I am working fucking over-time to give you the benefit of the doubt. Please, I beg you, sweet new teacher, take a step forward. Lean in. The best advice I ever received while teaching applies to just about anything. “When pulling drowning students out of the water, go upstream and figure out why they are falling in to begin with. Rather than pulling them out, stop them from falling in.” Find the cause and solve that, rather than dealing with the flood. I am telling you, I just want my child safe, please keep him safe. I will cheer you on along the way because I want to, I know how much it meant to me to have not only fellow teachers but parents in my corner. I just need to know you are going to educate yourself and realize some very big, very real problems with our world. I will thank you every day that you do because I am no longer willing to teach due to these and more issues. 


Trying to be in your corner, 


It’s so rare that they get to go out anymore

My neighbor Sterling* (and day care provider) was telling me how Tracy* was going to be staying with her & her husband that night so that Tracy’s mom & my Sterling’s son (they’re engaged) could get a night out alone. She was saying how they used to go out all the time but now that the wedding is getting closer they hardly get the chance to go out, limiting it to the weekend and sitters cost so much. I felt my heart sink. I’m Facebook friends with all of them, I know they get to go out every Friday and Saturday without said child, I know that Sterling watches her pretty much day in and day out. Can’t tell you how many times I’ve dropped my kids off to hear “ohhh sweetie be quiet Tracy is still sleeping” because she was still there from the night before.

Straight up y’all, I’m fucking jealous. My family is so fucking far away and even when we flew 1300 miles to meet at a “half way” point with a HUGE 3 bedroom & 3 bathroom timeshare so that they wouldn’t even have to pay for a hotel… they couldn’t fucking be counted on. It pains me to see Sterling exhausted after caring for a twit of a kid and how much Tracy’s mom & Sterling’s son use her precious time. I know she enjoys taking care of Tracy and I know she loves so much. It just hurts that we don’t have that.

It’s not so rare that they go out anymore, they go out every fucking weekend, they have on demand full time day care AND babysitting. My husband and I have gone out sans children in the last three years since our first was born for a total of 9 hours. Six when we were visiting friends on a trip back to California and my son stayed with my stepmom & sister for the afternoon and three while we saw Jeff Dunham after eating pizza with the friends that were watching the kids. That is it. To me THAT is RARE.

So when it comes to seeing my family say they miss me and how I need to “come home” I get mad thinking about it. I want to go home. I want to go back to what is familiar. I want a family support system. I want my kids to know their cousins and make amazing memories. I want my kids to have grandparents that care about them… but then I think… would they? If we moved 1600 miles, sold our home, fought for jobs that paid decent, RENTED because there’s no way we could afford a house there, changed everything…. Would they have that? Would they have family to play with? Or would they be too caught up in their own worlds? Would they have grandparents to care about them or would those grandparents be “done after all the other kids”?

I’m just. I’m jealous for me and sad for my kids, all at the same time.


*Names changed for privacy because stalkers exist and I don’t want anyone’s feelings to get hurt.


My head is spinning

I’m confused

I’m disappointed

We used to be a nation that elected someone with a military background to know they’d been previously tested with acts of war. Someone with political background and connections with other countries to keep the peace in times of crisis.

We elected someone with neither of those traits whose own campaign won’t even allow him to go on twitter for his own good. God I hope he’s just going to be a Republican puppet.


As someone who has had her pussy grabbed, been assaulted, been raped, and lived through it only to be blamed by others for the actions of “men”…

As someone who had to seek out a specialist to make sure my unborn kid didn’t have a fatal form of skeletal dysplasia and contemplate a “late term abortion” (a la 21 weeks) … and then fight insurance to make sure THAT appointment was even covered…

As someone who is about to deliver a child with a disability …

As a wife to an already mixed race man…

As mother to mixed race kids …

As a friend to those struggling as LGBTQ+ to be accepted for who they are…

As a woman…

As a United States citizen…

I’m fucking appalled by the choice that was made by HALF of my fellow citizens. HALF the people in America that voted (whether only for party lines or out of hate) said I don’t matter, my life doesn’t matter, my options don’t matter, my children don’t matter, my friends don’t matter.

My fucking father is becoming more and more of a bigoted, self-righteous, piece of fucking crap if y’all want my honest opinion, up until this past year I would defend my father to the fucking death… now, not so much, since he and his buddies are all white, elderly, elitist fucks along with the woman he cheated on my step-mother with and whom he is apparently now dating full-time… basically telling everyone that his guns and POTUS were reasons he voted for Trump. Awesome dad, your guns and the –possible- threat to them were more important than anything listed above, good to know. Never mind I have my own gun “collection” that I’m not the least bit worried about… Your superiority complex to anyone that isn’t white and over the age of 35 is more important than the option for your granddaughter to have not struggled for minutes outside the womb while doctors broke her ribs to relieve pressure only for her die moments later (this was the possible outcome if she had a fatal form of skeletal dysplasia), or for her to make her own choices later on in life regarding her own body.

I’m at a fucking loss for understanding. I was not and am not a Hillary supporter, I wanted Bernie, and was willing to settle for Johnson. But lesser of two evils!? I hope and pray that the families of the men who died in the Benghazi bullshit understand that they now mean more to our country than the following people (who are alive and terrified right now):






And the list goes on and on…


If you voted party lines, I hope you understand the amount of power you gave a weak and worthless human being. I hope it’s worth it to you when he does nothing to “better” the party or your life. I hope POTUS will stand for the constitution and not allow Trump to make changes that set us back 50 years, as if life in ND as a woman wasn’t already hard enough, trying to imagine this across the nation is, frankly, scary.

What I really want to scream is that I hope you experience all of the hate that Trump spewed out to everyone that isn’t you. I hope you get your pussy grabbed. I hope you feel you need to flee the country before feeling the full effect of the intolerance you helped your fellow man created. I hope you feel scared for no reason other than people don’t value you as a human being. I hope you are denied basic rights because of how you were born. But I can’t, not in good conscious, because I’ve experienced only a handful of those and I wouldn’t wish that fear and anxiety on my worst enemy let alone a stranger who (possibly – mindlessly) went along with party lines for fear of electing a Machiavellian President in the form of Hillary Clinton, because it was a debate for a hot second in my mind too. Until I realized that I was worth more than that, my friends, my family, those I love & care about, we’re worth more than a party line.

The only silver lining I can see is that at least our impending war won’t likely be with Russia as Trump is so busy kissing ass to a fellow dictator.

Regardless, I’m scared.


Big Fight Over Little Woman

So my mother-in-law is here. Has been for over a week. I have no idea when she will be leaving and I’m about to lose my fucking mind.

First barrier…she speaks zero English and makes no attempt. At all.  I know enough Spanish and at least make an effort to communicate with her even if I have to bust out Google translate. Or play charades and look like a total fucking idiot. She doesn’t have to try apparently because she’s ’embarrassed’ she doesn’t understand or know English. Somehow that exempts her.

Second barrier…she is the one my husband caters to. Which I get to some degree, but for a marriage already struggling, this is not good.  I’m so fucking sick of being last and not having my feelings accounted for. It’s my house and my husband doesn’t seem to give two shits that I don’t feel like I have space in my own home.

Two examples: this Sunday I was looking for a cheese tray. An $8 cheese tray. It’s seemingly disappeared from our house. MIL saw it but after rearranging our fridge it’s no longer anywhere to be found. I can’t find a thing in my own kitchen because she puts everything away where she thinks it goes. She doesn’t bother to ask where it should go.  Why should it matter, just because it’s our house?!?  And then when I went to make breakfast she immediately started making something too. It was like Food Channel, but way more passive aggressive.  What in the actual fuck.

Third barrier…we don’t have any time for ourselves as a couple because she stays up and sits in the living room.  Wherever we are, there she is.  No fucking alone time whatsoever.

What the hubs doesn’t understand that I am not keen on having a virtual stranger in my home. We saw her a year ago and only because we traveled to her. Before that it was a year ago. This is only her second time even seeing V and she is almost 2. We’ve been married 8-1/2 years and this woman has made no attempt to get to know me. Her other daughter-in-laws?  She has them as contacts in her phone and speaks to them regularly. But not me. That part has been hurtful to me, and I feel as though I’m beyond attempting to be the one to make the effort or try.  I am done trying.  The kicker out of all this?  She typically has nothing to do with the hubs either except when he can do something for her, like fly her to see a different sibling.  Isn’t that nice?

Even now, I am sitting at our dining room table, while she is sitting by my husband, talking to him.  There’s no attempt to engage me in the conversation.  She can fuck off as far as I’m concerned.  I’d be counting the days until she leaves…but I don’t have any clue when she is fucking leaving.

I sincerely apologize for the amount of fucks in this post.  It’s either that, or lose my shit.  Although I may have already lost my shit.

“Wow! We’ve gotten a lot of cleaning done this weekend”

These should’ve been my husband’s last audible words… because the “we” he was speaking of was nonexistent. Unless of course you count the fact that he finally put away HIS clothes that had been laying in a pile (of defiance on my part) for over a week while I wrangled a toddler while 30 weeks pregnant so that I could simultaneously sweep, mop & sanitize the kitchen & dining room floor before moving onto vacuuming and shampooing the living room and hallways. I’m sure he took a 45 minute shit somewhere in that 90 minute window as well.

While he started load #1 of garage sale dishes in the dishwasher I moved on to picking up and cleaning –all- of the toys in the living room, basement, and toddler room. Cleaning up the baby room and trying to see what can fit where and how to make it “work” with cloth diapering. Doing all the laundry, whites, towels, sheets, toddler, him, me, animals, clean washer, etc. Cleaning all the bathrooms, even with shitty ventilation, I know, my bad, got a little high. He was on load #2 when I was done with all that, when I asked what he was doing while washing machine was doing it’s job… “looking up how much we can sell this stuff for, do you know this ONE plate goes for $30 on ebay, I just watched it sell after three bids”… yes ladies and gentlemen, he was monitoring ebay for dishes I bought knowing I’d sell a few since we have zero need for 23 coffee mugs, 22 dinner plates, 20 salad plates, 25 bread plates, 19 saucers, 6 tea cups, gravy boat & tray, 4 serving platters, 4 serving bowls, you get the idea, it’s a large set.

Side note on this: I grew up with my grandparents mostly who had this set of Cornell that I later found out was called “crazy daisy” which made total since that my grandmother would’ve picked it out in the 70’s since her name was Daisy. It was the ONE thing I wanted when my grandparents went because that shit survived kids & teenagers for two generations, certainly it could survive in my house. Well, we moved, I packed up two boxes of the set and happily took them with me. My husband had a friend who needed help and we moved him in… only for him to screw us royally and make it clear that if a 40 year old doesn’t have his shit together, don’t let him move in with you to try to help him get his shit together… long story short, my two boxes went missing when he left… I was crushed. I scored a couple of small sets off ebay before last thanksgiving and it was perfect, and about $89 after shipping. The part about this set that makes me additionally happy is that my husband grew up with the exact same set, the first time he came over to help me clean up my grandparents’ house he did a double take in the kitchen and starting laughing. So when I saw that my neighbors had this huge, giant, colossal set of crazy daisy I didn’t even hesitate. She said “oh those? Make me an offer” $100! She laughs. $200! “that’s not why I’m laughing, how about $50 for the set?” … If I weren’t wearing my toddler on my back I would’ve been jumping up and down, while laughing at her terrible negotiation skills, I told her about my two small sets that I paid almost $100 for after shipping and started to beg her to take the $100… she didn’t but couldn’t believe they were worth anything… so yea… the husband doing research on them… I can see taking up some time.

But when you see me recruiting our toddler to help me drag laundry hampers down the stairs maybe get off your ass and help out instead of watching ebay.

I’m convinced he is only alive still because I was too exhausted to hide the body…


Holy Exhaustion

From the lack of sleep the past few nights, the recent travel and stress in general are creeping up on me, this morning I had two episodes that were a little concerning to me. 

The first was making coffee.   We have a little one cup brewer. I got the grounds set, put my cup underneath and pressed the power button. It lit up for a few seconds and then turned off. I tried again. Same thing. I even tried unplugging it from one outlet and into another. Same thing. By this time I was frustrated, said “fuck it!” And went upstairs to take a shower. Even told the hubs that the coffee machine was broken. 
After he left for gym I went back and looked again. It suddenly dawned on me to check if I had put water in the machine. I flipped the top up and there was no water. No wonder it wasn’t working!  

The second episode occurred when I was dropping my daughter off at school. You have to enter a 4 digit pin to mark them as dropped off, which are the last four digits of my phone. I kept pressing in the digits and it kept telling me “invalid code”. I did this like 4 times with the same result. I  had to move to the side and say my phone number to myself before I realized I had transposed two of the digits. What the fuck is going on with me?!?

Texted the husband, who called me to assure me I was just tired and not having a stroke. Because he knows how I am. 

There is not enough coffee in the world that could fix this. 

A New Toddler Experience

I had found The Little Gym and decided to try out a class with V.  We went as a family.  It is a movement class for kids from 19 months to 2.5 years old.  I cannot believe what a great time she had!

There was gymnastic equipment everywhere….tumbling mats, balance beams, bars, etc.  The instructor had us sit in a circle and work on the main mat, but told us to let the kids go if they felt comfortable enough to explore.  She said the only time we should really go get them is if we saw them doing something that was a safety concern.  As hard as it was for the hubs, we let her be.  Eventually she found her way back to us while we were playing with the other kids and families.

Kiddo in an action shot!

We walked in a circle, ran, jumped, and galloped.  We got out a parachute and shook it, and then gave the kids a ride while they sat in the the middle of it.  We played with balls.  e did some trust exercises where we rolled down a ramp with our kid, using our arms as a container so we didn’t squish our kiddo.  We also did some exploration, where the instructor was encouraging us to try new things with our kadiddles.  V was on some low bars, and the instructor told us to lift her hips up so she could put her feet on the bars.  We showed her once, and then every time she went back to the bars, she put her feet up and basically bear crawled across them.  It was awesome to see her doing things that we wouldn’t have normally encouraged her to do…or even thought to have her try!

The coolest thing was watching her hang from an uneven bar.  She wasn’t even tall enough to reach the bar herself, so one of us had to lift her up.  But she was so strong, hanging around like a monkey.  And then, without warning, she let go and fell to the mat in a fit of giggles!  She immediately wanted to get up and do it again.  Another kid even copied her, falling to the mat right after her.  We were both amazed at her feat.  I forget that little kids have no fear.  It was awesome to see her enjoy herself so much and I know we will definitely be back for more fun!