Laziness

Yes, there is such a thing as being a professional procrastinating lazy human. I would put myself in this category.

With such devices as remote controls and cell phones there is no need to move anywhere while lounging in bed. Mind you, it would make more sense if I were sick. I position myself perfectly between two pillows on my bed, while all my muscles relax and I am whisked away to the great land of houses that keep themselves clean.

It's true that I am a mother and my children are well taken care of, but there are days I wish I could stay in my pjs not because I haven't had the time or energy to actually get to my room to change but because I have no reason to leave the house. I can imagine myself sleeping soundly and awaiting the scores of people who want to do things for me. They can clean my bathroom, do my dishes and make me sandwiches. It wouldn't really matter all that much if they cleaned my house because I would stay in bed. Although the sandwiches would be important.

It is true that I make sure my kitchen is as clean as I can make it with the limited energy I have after a day of driving somewhere, chasing a two year old, breastfeeding a five month old, chasing a two year old WHILE breast feeding a five month old and trying desperately to keep myself from smoking. Ahh, smoking. Seriously, has anyone made a better habit?

It's awful for you, it smells, it kills and it makes men much more appealing to my lazy ass. I like the man with a smoke hanging out of his mouth because it makes him look like such a bad boy. I don't care if you are five hundred pounds, you look sexier with a smoke in your mouth. Yes, it's gross, but I can't lie anymore! Of course the other positive is smoking helps you lose weight without you actually doing anything! Any kind of appetite suppressant is ok by me.

It's nice too, as a lazy person, to have a dog. They help clean up the house with their never ending hunger for discarded food. Dogs are pretty awesome in the lazy person's world but I'm pretty sure the lazy person's best pet would be the tapeworm. All you have to do is eat and eat and eat! You can enjoy the great tastes of the world's foods without too much weight gain. The one down side to this is, sadly, when your beloved tapeworm has drained you of all your nutrition and thus leaving you dead, your tapeworm buddy starves.

If you're lazy for too long you die, this is the down side to being lazy. I guess it's not so bad to get out of the house every once in a while and do something, but that damn bed is one hell of a suductress.

My Husband

I know he doesn't read this blog and I'm pretty sure he'll never see this post, so I'm not so worried. After reviewing my blog posts over the past few weeks I may have painted my husband in a light which he does not stand.

If I could give him a bright white spot light to stand under he would be smiling and making faces trying to get laughs. He always gets me but there are those who don't think he's as funny as I do, and that's just fine cause he's mine. No blond chick will be able to withstand the simple and uncynical beauty of our humor long enough to get his attention. Not to get too gooy, but I love this dude! There is no one on earth like him. He is a one and only, unique piece of human being who just so happens to have his bad moments too.

That, I believe is what makes him so lovable. He can show his flaws and still be as real a human being as he was in his best form. Never fake, always kind and understanding. I don't know a man who could do the things he does on a regular basis without going crazy. Working later shifts and rushing to the train so he isn't stuck downtown until midnight. He's a good man.

He's also an accomplished artist. It's almost as if it's his biggest secret. The stacks of journals he keeps are his prize possessions. He has always let me flip through them and read short passages he jotted as he drew with no shame. Honesty seems to seep from my husband and it's hard not to be honest with him because of it. He won't lie, he'll tell you if he can't keep a secret and he'll always call when he's running late.

Why have I written today about my husband? Because he deserves an honorable mention. Because he is hardworking and loving even when I am grumpy. Because he will do the yard work as well as the dishes if it needs being done. He'll rock the baby for an hour so I can get some sleep and he'll stand up for me breast feeding in public when others scowl. He will cut my hair when I don't want to spend the money and he'll take my bossy directions with the scissors when he does.

He deserves an honorable mention because he was the one who told me I should focus on myself more. I'm a pretty lucky lady.

Root Canal

Have you ever had a root canal? I have had two in the past three months! It's really exciting and wonderful to have such interesting dental work done in such a short amount of time. At least I have made a few dental friends. I'm pretty sure I look like a piggy bank to my dentist now. I noticed how his eyes turn into those cartoon money signs when he sees me.

The first tooth they did about two months ago and I was glad when it was done. Guilt followed me to every visit. The money I was spending on my teeth would probably have covered my college tuition. I was ready for my husband to yell, scream, throw things, wring his hands or just get miffed. Instead I got something worse. I got the "If this is what it takes to make you take care of your teeth from now on, it's worth every penny." CRAP! Why couldn't he have just stopped talking to me for a few months?

The procedure is actually pretty interesting. You go in and sit in a small waiting room long enough to get interested in the gossip magazine you nonchalantly grabbed before sitting down. You are whisked into the room where you will be spending a good hour and a half. There you sit and promise yourself you will sneak a peak at the juicy story in US weekly when you are leaving.

In comes one of the most beautiful smiles in the world. She is tall thin and so likeable! This amazing dentist doesn't even make you feel guilty about the way you've been taking care of your teeth which has resulted in you having to get root canals. That is a super power in of itself!

The dentist pops on her surgical mask and sticks you with the equivalent of needles you see the first year of your child's life. Still, you find this woman to be a kindred spirit, someone who really "gets" you. Your face swells and you know all the assistants are giggling at you while liquid dribbles from your mouth.

Your mouth is then draped with a plastic green tent, there to make sure you can't breath if you have a stuffy nose, seriously. The drilling is about to begin and you can't get over how such a nice person could have one of the most hated jobs in the world! Then, suddenly, you get a glimpse of the size of the drill she is using. You Think: Good god, thank you for poking me with so many needles earlier.

In the course of an hour and a half you smell a few different aromas: burning, chlorine and something that is reminiscent of poo. After drowning in your saliva for the entirety, the green tent is removed and the likeable superhero dentist turns to her assistant and says "Suction." She has just saved your life, where is her cape? A few xrays and then you are whisked back to the waiting room where you pay your fee happily (come on, your kindred spirit just fixed your tooth!).

You catch a glimpse in the mirror. Horror! Half of your face does not work. Smiling makes you look like you're crazy or on something. Leaving as quickly as you can, you break that promise to read the juice in that stupid magazine. Getting home to your husband and children you suddenly realize that you are in more pain then you've ever been before.

The dentist doesn't seem so much like a Superhero anymore. It's more like a super villain and she's just put kryptonite in your tooth.... ouch.

Water

After being absent for ten days I am back. It is an epic story of my leave. It included battles, laughter and fear of what a certain 6'3'' man would do to me if I had, in fact, broken his prize possession (mostly the last one).

It started off as any other day. I had found myself on the computer and proceeded to neglect my child for a few minutes. Of course this was after an hour of reading the same book ten times, offering three different kinds of breakfast and negotiating the removal of a poopy diaper.

Sitting happily at my husband's lap top, while I allowed the television to parent for me, I poured myself a tall glass of water. Breastfeeding makes you thirsty! It was placed securely beside me while I happily danced my fingers across the keys. They clicked with happy chatter, it was my happy alone moment.

Then suddenly an evil demon took over my body. I watched in horror as my hand tipped over my tall glass of water. Time slowed and water engulfed the happy keys. And dammit, there was a demon, I don't care what my husband believes! It had nothing to do with the fact that I am clumsy! That's my story and I'm sticking to it!

While holding the computer upside down to let the water slowly drip away from the keys and down my arms, my son walked over and said very seriously: Oh God. My thought: Your father is going to kill me... and he's going to make me feel really bad about pouring water on his computer...

Luckily, the computer just needed to dry out for a while, and I'm back! Ya!

Whodathunk?

I have just realized why I haven't gotten but four hours a night for the past three nights. Blaming it on the over tired monster just didn't make sense when after three two hour naps my four month old just won't sleep.

It would make a mechanical engineer say "What the fuck?" but us mothers just keep trying new things. Swaddle here, music there. Add a bit of light, make a black hole out of your child's room. Sway for hours, sing for hours, accompany your child's crying with your own whimpers. Then you give them pain meds and everything seems clear.

Teeth suck. Not only do I have an ill placed hatred of my own teeth I am now starting to hate the unseen teeth in my child's mouth! Half way through my two root canals and I just can't bring myself to say "I'm so glad I've spent years eating crappy junk food and forgetting to brush just so I can get two fake and perfectly white teeth out of it.", to be fair it wasn't my teeth's fault. But I am not above saying it was the high fructose corn syrup's fault!

What gets me about this whole thing is that I didn't even connect the dots from upset sleep and uncomfortable feeds to teething. I just assumed it was because she was tired. We all know that when we are tried we get upset easily and want nothing to do with nipples (at least my first boyfriend was that way).

My daughter is asleep, so why am I still awake, typing away as if I have had wonderful sleep for the past week? The answer to that is simple- because I haven't had any sleep in the past week. Everyone knows that you go insane with lack of sleep. Why would a sane person be typing right now instead of sleeping? That has no answer... good night.

My Bra

I have big boobs. They aren't gargantuan, they aren't tiny. My boobs are just big enough to drive my back crazy but not big enough to have medical intervention alleviate the pain. This is something I loath and love about myself.

I like that I have boobs, I like that they produce milk and I can breast feed my daughter. I like that they were never part of my self esteem deflation. Thinking about it now though, I'm pretty sure no matter what I looked like I would have hated myself as a teenager, don't we all? They were oogled, they were admired and they were misused on multiple occasions (Cheap birthday gifts, so sue me!).

As you can tell I have nothing against my boobs, (although plenty of men have wished they were!) but I do have a deep hatred of bras. Never have I gone bra shopping without it ending in tears. I don't care who you are, bra shopping is depressing. If you've got smaller then average boobs you try to find a bra that pushes what you got up and at em! If you've got different sized boobs you try to find a bra that hides this fact. If you have big boobs you try to find a bra that will support them enough so they aren't neighbors with that asshole of a belly button.

Of course if you are the person who goes bra shopping and find that every different style suits you and the biggest difficulty you have is deciding on the color, fuck you. You are either clueless and don't care or a figment of a man's imagination who wouldn't need a bra anyway cause your boobs would sit up on their own. I assume men imagine that women go bra shopping to 'help' each other tighten the hard to reach straps. This interaction turns into a hot afternoon of fun and experimentation. What really happens when women go shopping for bras together is moral support or having tissue on hand. Seriously, not sexy.

In short, my back is killing me and it's because my nursing bras support nothing. I don't know why they even market them as bras. They are there to keep the nursing pads in place, as the sagging is embarrassing enough, we would rather not leak all over the place as we are shopping for groceries.

The worst part about this whole thing!? I don't really have anyone to go bra shopping with. It's not really something my friends and I do. I have my husband. Who is the sweetest man alive and will let me spend far too much money on a bra while handing me tissues over the changing room door. He will then proceed to tell me I look beautiful, which gives me momentary relief... until I look in the mirror and he hands me another tissue.

The Tantrum

Every mother knows the terror of taking their child into a store and watching as they have a melt down. I'm talking about the worst melt down you can possibly have. Rolling on the floor melt down, kicking and screaming melt down, snot everywhere melt down. This particular melt down just so happened to us while my husband and I were going to Target this morning.

I'll admit Stan was getting close to his nap time and getting him to put shoes on was a big no no. So my husband reminded him that it was wear shoes or sit in the cart. Stan chose sit in the cart. Fair enough, he'd done it plenty of times before. Never asked to get down after we reminded him that he wasn't able to without shoes on. It was same as usual.

So, when we got into Target and Stanley proceeded to tell us where to drive the cart. We told him that we were going to go where we needed to and get out as fast as possible. I know two year olds don't totally get this logic but I thought I'd give him the benefit of the doubt. Next he pulled his shirt off. You can guess we were a bit taken aback. He was looking for attention. It was true but we were trying to get in and out as quickly as possible. He took his shirt off and we tried to stop him but instead we ignored it.

Then the real tears started. The high pitch shrill and the snot. Ooooh the snot. Screaming and yelling we pushed the cart passed the on lookers. There were looks of "What the hell" and smiles of "I've been there" but no one said anything. This is what normally happens when Stan gets loud in a store so I thought nothing of it.

Getting to the register the teller swiped the items we had picked up with a bit more speed then one would expect from a 60 year old man. We were yards away from the door when a woman called "Pick him up! That's what he needs! Pick him up for goodness sake!" I turned to the voice, confused. Had someone actually tried to tell me how to deal with a tantrum? Really? Woman, you have some balls! I had to walk away, but my husband shouted "You're wrong, Lady! Totally wrong!" We left the store and I was sure I would explode.

That horrible feeling of anger and sickness swirled in my stomach. At least one of us had said something! Then I realized what I should have said... "You pick him up, Lady! See if he calms down for you!" that would have been an epic ending to a small battle.... But what I wanted to say was "Fuck you, Lady." ... now that would have been the beginning of a rude back and forth. To be honest, every mother needs those back and forths, it gets us ready to fight with our teenagers.