Monday, February 06, 2006

*$(%*ing Blogger!

Blogger is unreliable. I am trying this.

Please come and see me there and update your blogrolls!

Sunday, February 05, 2006

Tick Tock

I never planned to have children. It's not that I shunned the idea of reproduction, I just knew that never in a million years did I ever want to germinate another being within my belly only to push it out and have it trailing after me for years to come. Today as I walked through the infant nursery at work, I encountered three little peapod souls dressed in footed one piece get ups as they flopped from front to back and sweetly cooed and gooed. At first I had to stop and revel in their innocent cuteness, and then I felt this bizarre, grief sodden sob begin to form in my chest as I realized I would never again have one of those in my arms. So I did the only sane thing possible, I choked it down and tailed it out of there as fast as possible.

Ugh. Despite my carefully laid plans, I have already produced three of those wiggling vermin. After this last one I had surgery to ensure my life would be free of any future peapods. So what the hell was my deal today? I guess the biological clock ticks louder than reality.

Monday, January 30, 2006

Winners

A couple of days ago I took Loren, Cassidy and Devon to the Winter X Games. Every year I swear I will not go anywhere near the mayhem of the chaos, blaring music, very hip young people and crazy-ass huge crowds. But I finally ran out of the free deodarant samples I had gotten last year so I needed to go back and fill up the diaper bag with more. The thing about the X Games is that they are out in the elements of winter. It's cold. There are copious amounts of snow. A soda and a sandwhich cost $13.00. The music is excrutiatingly loud. The skinny blondes at all the booths hannd out spongey taco shaped hats and orange cowbells that Cassidy must have, again and again. But Loren wanted to participate in a snowskate competition and in an attempt to be Super Mom, I complied and hauled all of us out there. I thought it would take an hour and a half. Nuh-uh. No. The competition started two hours late and lasted for over an hour. Four and a half hours in all. Of snow. Of Devon trying to crawl on to every passing and stationary snowmobile in sight. Of Cassidy needing more sponge hats and cow bells. Of Cassidy chit chatting with older, tattooed snowmobile racers -and them finding her soooooo cute. Of screaming announcers, exhaust fumes and me just wanting to discreetly stash my toddler, betrothe my daughter to a snowmobile dude and leave Loren impailed on a snowskate rail. But finally I saw the announcer of the competition take Loren's mitted hand in his, mumble a bunch of stuff into his microphone about what a "cool little cat, this fine young dude is", and hand over a prized T-shirt and helmet/pads set. I suddenly found myself giddy as all get up as I scooped up Devon, pulled Cass away from the crowds and headed toward home. As I approached Loren I could feel the glow of pride that radiated from his little pre-teen soul, he was so happy he could barely get out anything other than, "Mommy, thank you! Did you see my switch-side,ollie-grab on the side thing? Mommy, look! My Shirt! My Pads! My Helmet!!!" As he went on and on about the competition and all the various tricks, which I must confess all look and sound the same to me, he was bouncing with happiness. He even went so far as to hug Cassidy and tell her how grateful he was that she had waited for over four hours in the cold during his competition.

As we were leaving I looked up the hill to the enormous half pipe where the evening's real competition was just beginning. Up there were the men snowboarders who will go on to represent the U.S. in the Winter Olympics. Up there were the big sponsors, the big money, the big crowds. But as we walked away to the bus, Loren already wearing his new T-shirt and Cassidy hanging on his every word, I knew that right where we were was Golden.

Friday, January 27, 2006

Just Call Me Monk

Some people handle stress by over cleaning their homes, others smoke and others exercise obsessively to get through the hard times. Me? I pick at the eye lashes of my upper right eye lid. I sort of mash them into my lid in a most pleasingly painful manner. It hurts in the same therapeutic way that a good eyebrow wax does. Don't get me wrong I am not into whips and leashes, although a playful spank can go a long way towards a good time. But as I mush my lashes over and over throughout the day, they slowly break off and it feels really good -in a sick sort of way. After a few days of this I end up with a fairly bald spot on the right corner of my eye lid. This week has been rather stressful in my small world. I have thought of upping my Prozac intake, but the thought of an even larger psychological band aid does not sit well with me. So rather than stuff Devon into his snow suit and go for a healthy, refreshing walk, I pick, pick pick at my lid.

Tomorrow I have to go work on the ski mountain. Venturing outside of my front door means I have to wear make-up and look presentable. But there is no hiding my bald lid. This afternoon I toyed with the idea of purchasing some fake eyelashes but I am no J. Lo or Paris Hilton, I don't even know how to stick those things on my eye. At this point nothing short of a huge pair of sunglasses will hide my gross little habit. Shit, just the thought of it is making me want to scratch at my lashes.

Thursday, January 26, 2006

In and Out

A little over two years ago when I informed Matt that he had once again knocked me up, I didn't quite grasp the whole baby thing. I mean I got it in some sense, after all at the time we already had two off spring we had been rearing about for nearly 11 and 7 years. But I didn't comprehend the HUGENESS that a third child would be. I was thinking about that cute, wee bundle that would be mine after nine months of vomit riddled germination. I had blocked out the sleepless nights, the winter coughs, the many years of only sleeping two hours at a time, the silent sex to ensure another 1/2 hour of a sleeping child, and most of all I had blocked out THE TODDLER. Toddlers are adorable, they have fabulous clothing, they try to say the cutest things, they have chubby thighs and the sweetest, softest butts. But holy shit. The maintenance. He is EVERYWHERE. And I can't get anything done. When he isn't stripping off his diaper and peeing on the floor, he is climbing up on the table and emptying out the sugar bowl. He drops things into the ferret cage: cd's, spoons, the random rubber band. He empties out the diaper bag and hides the contents in the kitchen cabinets. He feels the need to pull every towel off the towel rack and stream toilet paper throughout the living room. I love him to pieces and he has brought some much needed love to our household, but when I out him in his crib at 7 sharp and close the door, I breathe my first full breath of the day.

Tuesday, January 24, 2006

B.F.F.

Over the past couple of years I have noticed a tapering off of my social life. I get invited out for drinks less and less, movie invitations are getting rarer and over the holidays -not a single party invite. Not a huge deal. With Loren and Cass getting older, playdates with The Other Moms no longer exist. Then I was pregnant and not much for socializing. Then I had a newborn. Then I had a newborn with a heart defect, a big surgical scar and strict instructions that he not interact with too many other kids. Then I was super blue and lethargic, not great company. Plus the treadmill frenzy of three kids keeps the small chat to a minimum, leaving few openings for personal networking. So all in all I can see the decline of my social ways. However, it was not until Comcast recently shutoff all my communications with the outer world that I realized the truth. I haven't needed friends. I have my highspeed connection. When Devon naps I don't pick up the phone to rekindle old friendships, I run to the PC and start posting about cancer. At night when the kids are in bed there is no cocktail hour with the neighbors, I am writing about my personal rants and looking for any juicy tidbits I might be able to incorporate into the cardio blogs. But what with the mysterious trainwreck munching the fiberoptic cable that has become my lifeline, I have realized that I have no friends. And I am lonely. Will this prompt me to pick up the phone and dig out long lost phone numbers? Likely not. I know Comcast will soon come back and all will be well.

Monday, January 23, 2006

The Bigger Questions

I know that it's not ALL really about me. I understand that in the big picture of things I am but a small ant on a super big ant hill and I look exactly like every single other ant in the hill. But sometimes as I peck away here in my blog, I can't help but suspect that maybe I might just have a small, wee role in it. Take for example my Comcast connection. Originally I thought the ferret had chewed through my cable. No, the little fucker enjoyed a fine feast on my dishwasher tube, but left the internet connection alone. Nay, I have no internet because supposedly there was a train wreck, in a canyon, in a highly inaccessible area and now it will be at least FOUR days before repairmen can scurry up the mountainsides to fix the fiberoptic cables. It just doesn't ring quite true for me. First of all, there is maybe one operating train in all of Colorado. Yes, it does travel through canyons, how does it not in this state. But why would the cable be all the way out and up there? How did they get it there in the first place? How is that the wrecked train cars cut through my internet connection but left the cable TV intact? No. I think this is my Karmic Muse again fucking with me, laughing her bitchy little ass off as I flail about in search of an internet connection.