Mom of the year

    We went to the splash pad again during the week, and I had to elbow an old lady in the chest for trying to pick up Bug. We parked in the lot and I had Bug standing in the trunk of the car while I got her dressed in her swim gear and put on her sunblock. This old lady comes over and starts talking to her, tried to tickle her shoulder and hold her hand...the usual bullshit old people think they have the right to do when they see babies. Fine. But when I said, "okay Bug, let's go play", the old woman reached out and put her hands under Bug's arms, ready to pick her up! I felt this sickly, adrenaline fueled anger rise up through my body, and threw a hip check at her (thank you, Derby) and an elbow at her chest before I smacked her hand away from my child and told her NOBODY picks up my baby. She said, "oh, well I was just trying to help..." and waved at us as we left. What in the bloody fuck is WRONG with people?! This isn't 1955, lady. You can't jus

     It's only 12:30 pm. I have that sickly anxious feeling. Every nerve I have is shot. I feel guilty for not being in a good mood. I want to get out of this fucking house and do something ALONE. Everything I have tried to do so far today has failed or been a struggle. Bug is plotting my demise, I'm fairly certain. I guess it's just one of those days.      The plan was to do some sewing, make a few business calls, maybe hit a thrift store before our trip to the park, and then make dinner and clean frantically before Husband got home. Typical day. Except that the two shirts I planned to upcycle are too small for me now, and too big for Bug as dresses so I can't use them until next summer when she grows. She wouldn't take her morning nap, probably because another fucking thunderstorm suddenly showed up and kept startling her, which also caused me to cancel our park outing, she didn't want what I made her for lunch, she screamed through the one phone call I trie

     I never gave an update of what happened with the playgroup because I didn't have much to say at first. The first few I went to I barely spoke to anyone. Finally though, I met a Mommy who I really dig, and her daughter is just a couple months younger than Bug! And get this...they just moved here from California! We've hung out a couple times, and our girls get along beautifully. Princess L (Bug's new friend) might just be a good influence for my little maniac, too. She is so mild and sweet, I swear she holds up her pinky when she drinks from her sippy cup. Not that Bug is wild or anything, she's just very...active. She hasn't even been alive for two years and she's already racked up more emergency room visits than Gage has in his entire life.      I'm sure when we're in public, at the park or whatever, that people think we're odd because our conversation volume suddenly goes from a 10 to a 2 when anyone comes near us. Neither of us wants to off

     I'm feeling frustrated this morning. There is so much going on lately, so many things in the works, and it feels like we are finally figuring out what life will be like here. There are some things about that which are not going to work out for us. Changes must be made. That is where the frustration comes. Such is life, though, right? Meh.      Our once a month date night was yesterday. We always go get sushi at the same joint, and sit at the bar and watch the chefs make art out of food. We talk and laugh and shit, and soak up the awesomeness of being alone together and out of the house. Well, last night the douchiest douche sat down next to us at the bar with his poor, unfortunate first date, and we had to hear him strike out with this girl because he WAS THE LOUDEST PERSON THERE. This dude talked about himself non-stop. He bragged about not needing his tax return because "It's only $1000, so whatever", about the shows he's been to, a car he used to have, w

          I took Bug to the splash pad, which we both love because 1. It's a water park for little kids, and 2. It's free. She plays in the little fountains that spray up from the concrete, runs around with the other toddlers, it's great. We've been there a few times, and I noticed something. All these kids, at one point or another, either stand over the fountains or sit on the fountains, so that their little kid crotch is in a constant stream of water. They stand there with blank looks on their faces, and I don't know if they're peeing or REALLY enjoying the water stream....I don't really wanna know, because both ideas gross me out. I remember really liking the jets in the pool, so I'm no stranger to such an idea. It's totally natural and all that, I know but EW. Then if they're peeing, it's predictable, but then it means that all the kids are walking through pee every few minutes. EW!      Nobody says anything about it. At one point e

     Bug loves books. She barely ever plays with her toys anymore, she just wants to look at her books. Isn't that WONDERFUL???? OF COURSE IT IS, SHE LOVES TO READ!!!!!!!!! YAYYYYYY!!!!!!!!      Okay but here's the thing. It's non-stop. From the second she wakes up, we read, and it goes on all day until I lose my mind and start hiding them from her. No, I don't want to read "Brown bear, Brown bear" 40 times. Yes, it's really cute when she slides the window open to see what Brown bear sees looking at him, and she squeals with delight. It's great. She's learning and shit. But we do this ALL FUCKING DAY. Up until a week ago, it was the only book she wanted to hear most of the time. Now she's got a few more favorites, but she won't even let me finish them! She hands me a book, listens to me read 4 pages of it, then hands me another book and insists I start reading that one. Pretty soon I have read half of 12 different books! My OCD is kickin

     I woke up this morning and sat with Bug on the couch, and within minutes, she and I were covered in fucking fleas. I just vacuumed yesterday. We're broke until next payday so I couldn't get any diabolical Earth or whatever it's called, to treat the carpet and couches with so I've just been vacuuming and praying to the flea gods to get rid of them. Husband woke up to me vacuuming at 6:30am, saw the distress on my face and said we can get rid of the rug and couches. WHEW! He says I have to help, which I will, but how much help moving this enormous furniture will I be? I'm 130lbs of wet noodle. Then the leather couch downsairs will have to come upstairs....I think we need help. And now I've blogged so much about fleas, I might as well call this my blog about fleas. *sigh*      Gage left on Monday, and I was fine until I had to hug him goodbye. I fell apart. Then I came home and cried off and on for 2 days, especially when Bug would try to throw her rubber bl

     I have been so busy! Our truck is finally going to be fixed this week, after a month long engine rebuild. It's a 1984 Dodge Ram pickup that the parents are letting Husband use for work. Why a month long venture? Because the whole thing took place in our backyard, not a shop. Things happen, people get pneumonia, bolts rust and break off, parts have to be ordered....and so on.          For nearly two months I have been working on getting all the legal ducks in a row so that Husband can do business in Florida as a wood floor installer. The process has been ridiculous. Far too expensive, too many hoops to jump through, nobody can give you a straight answer to anything and even the people who do this type of work aren't entirely sure how to do it legally. We ended up with two business tax receipts (aka business licenses), one for the city and one for the county. Insurance, IRS code, fictitious business name registry and newspaper ad, and a couple other things I'm forget