19 September 2007

The Smoke is Clearing

I should have written a blog post yesterday, as A. had a quite-late meeting and I chose to sit in front of my home computer during that time and burn my eyeballs to raisins. But instead of creating something (or cleaning out a closet or a drawer for chrissakes) I sat and read blog after blog, because have you seen my blogroll over there? Out of control. Some editing is in order.

Usually when A. has these late meetings (which happen on our back porch, with beer, I might add), I visit the meeting for a bit and enjoy some beverage and a few smokes. But alas, I have quit smoking-- again-- so I sat inside and frittered away time with nothing to show for it, as I have been known to do.

This quitting has been a good quitting so far-- I'm on day 5, and doing okay. My dear husband has also quit, and while I applaud his effort and I feel hopeful for the both of us, I will say that quitting smoking + marriage = rocky times. Especially when one of us (him) turns into a mean neat freak and the other (me) turns into a big no-skinned over-sensitive weenie. We have our moments when we see each other through the fog and apologize and understand it's a temporary insanity, and we have moments like last night where the two-ish hours I spent with my husband were far, far more difficult than the entire day I spent with a two year old, tantrums and all.
It will get better.

Yesterday Bird and I ran a ton of errands in the morning. We also went to the library. Which Bird pronounces "Labia."

"Bird, where are we going?"
"To the LABIA!!"
"What will we do there?"

And while we are on the subject of anatomically correct names for parts, I had always intended to teach Bird the real words for things-- parts, genitals-- rather than give her a cutsey substitute word to use that would somehow lead to her being ridiculed in 6th grade sex ed when she refers to her "cupcake" or other nonsense. But when the time came to step up to the plate, I failed. When she started asking "whassat?" about everything, right around 14 months, I said, "that's your business." And it stuck.

Not that there's anything wrong with "business." She was pointing to an entire region when I said that, not a specific part. And it was just easier. So now she goes around talking about everybody's "bensins," mine, daddy's, even poking at my poor eunich dogs and reminding them how much "bensins" they have missed out on.

It's time to introduce the real words for things, I think. And here's how it went yesterday, I shit you not:
"Bird, do you know what your business is called?"
"Yes, but do you know the word for your business?"
"It's called vagina."
"No, va-gi-na."
And this concludes the first round of the great Vagina-Potato debate of 2007.

Thirty Year Old Granola is Better
Also yesterday while running errands, Bird and I nearly starved to death, so we ran to Harris-this-is-going-to-cost-you-a-hundred-bucks-Teeter looking for snacks. And oh, did we find some snacks. I also heard Sheryl Crow's version of "Sweet Child of Mine" and it was the longest and most grueling three and a half minutes of my life, and I have had a baby come right out of my body.

Anyway. In no time we were back in the car cruising along and scarfing down granola bars. Damn good granola bars. Granola bars bought in haste. "Surely," I said aloud, "these are packed full of bullshit." And do you know what? THEY ABSOLUTELY WERE, full of high fructose maltose nastiness. So when we got home I drug out my own mama's recipe from an old seventies health-food cookbook and went to work. Damn fine granola bars, folks, don't waste your cash at the HarryTeet. I don't have the recipe here with me at work but I will post it later. You won't want to miss it.

It's turned into a free-for-all
Since my wheels are turning too fast (it has become so obvious that I am a morning person), I will stop with the sentences and just list of everything that I am thinking for the next minute or so:
  • Yoga and why the fuck I am not doing it
  • Cutting my hair short (pixie) again
  • If the stuff used to kill off the roaches is going to poison us in the end
  • Scheduled maintenance for my car
  • Severe lack of money, but I feel like the answer is within reach, just can't see it
  • Why do I tune in to Dave Ramsey, that smug sonofabitch
  • Why can't I get Mint to recognize my bank info (that's the reason I got on the computer last night in the first place, now I remember)
  • Throwing things away, thowing LOTS of things away
  • Why do I let my dogs get to a point of stink-out when I could just wash them
  • Whether or not to switch from Shutterfly (used for parents in Indiana, etc) to Flickr (which is 700X easier to organize)
  • Making play dough for Bird
  • Waldorf school, Montessori school
  • Thankful I will be listening to Larry Flick this morning on my drive to see a patient
  • Oh shit, I'm going to be late.


shauna said...

Write about what you come up with re: Waldorf vs. Montessori. That's been a common topic du jour at our house, too.

nichole said...

"If the stuff used to kill off the roaches is going to poison us in the end."
I have this same problem. I worry that I am cutting my dog's lifespan in half, what with his walking on the floor and smelling everything all the time. Yet I can't handle the roaches, so spray, spray, spray.