Cat! DO NOT!

So after my last post I got an email from a concerned friend who thought I sounded depressed. Apologies to all, it had been a shitty week. It's all fine. Or will be fine, whatever. There are things I can't discuss because I'm not dumb about posting work stuff on the internet, but know that there are things in the world that are making me grouchy and I'm trying not to take it out on you, all four of you, my loyal readership. Instead I will take it out on the cat.

Birdy takes everything out on the cat. Direct quote from tonight:

"Cat! DO NOT! You know BETTER!"

I'd like to say she came up with that on her own, but it's definitely a page from my book. But what's a girl to do? That cat knows better! And he breaks things!


A. pinched Birdy's teeny finger totally by accident in a cooler and kind of peeled back some of the skin. She cried. A lot.

A: Oh, Birdy, that breaks my heart!
Bird: It breaks my heart, too!

Birdy will be a monkey for halloween. It will be so damn cute your teeth will melt out of your head, just wait.

I made this, and you should, too. Easy, delicious, with leftover mileage. Passes the Mama Snee test. I also made an Eggplant + Zucchini bake that involved a trip to a second grocery store to find eggplant, all in an attempt to convince myself that I do like eggplant. And sadly, despite my best efforts, I still do not like eggplant. Even smothered in mozzarella. And that's really saying something. There have been times in my life when I would have eaten styrofoam peanuts smothered in mozzarella and asked for seconds.

I'm thinking I'm going to do nablopomo, and I know you think that's funny, considering I post once every year or so, but LOOK OUT, I'm going to think of some things to say.

Starting Thursday, because it's late and I'm tired and in the middle of a freelance project due tomorrow, and I'm going to go on a hunt through all of the kitchen drawers for a stray cigarette I may or may not remember hiding from myself a very, very long time ago.

Here are your bonus pictures.

Helping make Granny-ola bars

This is Bird screaming at Reggie, the fish who came to live with us on her birthday.

This is Bird making some wooden breakfast on Sunday for Baby and Dog at her new birthday kitchen from Granny and Grandpa. It was the laziest of days. The next time I wish for lazy days where Bird and I lay around in our pajamas and cook wooden food and read books and drink coffee all morning while A. makes a huge, delicious breakfast and occasionally shouts out answers to whatever smartypants quiz show is on NPR, remind me that we do that. A lot.

No Title This Time

Y'all.
I'm cooked.
So many things, not enough things, too many things.

Bird:
is two. Wants to do things "all my byself." Is funny. Is friendly and kind. Is charming. Is in need of a bath. Is not getting enough of my attention.

A:
Is my soother. I encourage you, if you are wound tight or worried about something, to talk to him about it. He will make a few simple comments, dilute the whole thing, and you'll be all like, "okay, pass me a beer, please. All is well." His motto: "nothing is fucked here, dude."

New boss:
is a man, is younger than me, eats out every meal (oh, the days of no babies), is totally for-serious, of the not-fuckin-around variety, will probably put the kibosh on my PT daycare opportunity (scheduling issues) and possibly my PT job opportunity. But there are advantages to a non-PT salary, so I'm sitting still and waiting for shit to settle. Something about doors closing and windows opening.
Also something about not having another job and really needing an income, about being in less control than I'd like to believe.

Job:
Where do I begin. I'm doing everyone else's lately. Finding myself in the mental state I fled two years ago when I declared my disdain for offices, slacks, and small talk. Somehow I have a real job again, and a part of me feeds on that, while another part gets food poisoning.

School:
Was over two months ago. Have not started studying for exam. Have not scheduled exam. Have not really thought about massage in a while. Either I'm ignoring the idea because It's easier to get comfortable-ish where I am (I know my way around non-profit work, to be sure), or because I made a sizable mistake when I borrowed all of that money to go to school. Stay tuned on that one.

Dogs:
Are stinky.

Clothes:
All are stupid, ill-fitting, worn or stained. New ones are expensive. And new boss has been wearing a tie every day, so I have a feeling I'm going to get the "talk" at some point, for my continued pushing (shoving?) the limit of casual workplace.

Bangs:
Over it. Growing out.

Edited to Add:
Um, so sorry, this post is pretty much a rerun of the last post. Obviously in need of some changes in the ole life-aroo.

I'm here.

Did you think I wasn't here? I was starting to wonder myself.

I'm here though, busy at work with expanding duties and changing leadership and full-time possibilities that I'm wrestling with thinking about entertaining maybe.

Busy being filled to capacity with what-ifs and why-nots.

Busy putting off taking the NCTMB exam for my licensure because it costs a fistful of money and also because I crunched some numbers I should have crunched about a year and a half ago and it all looks a little dismal from here with regard to the earning potential that comes with said license.

Busy at home trying to be as mentally present as I can be with Birdy when we are physically there together, busy watching her get bigger and funnier and more imaginative, watching the days fly by, trying to plan a birthday shindig, trying to wrap my brain around the number two, as in two years, as in seven hundred thirty days ago tomorrow my water broke and Birdy entered the world and changed it forever.

But.

There is much work to be done here today. Family budgets are collecting dust and falling apart, bills are piling up, my house is getting grungier, shabbier, and more neglected as the days pass, but the job that pays the bills is the job that wins the attention on this Wednesday. How my temporary, "get through school" job has turned into the real thing-- a time-sucker, a desk-sitter, a brain-taxer-- is a fact that baffles me daily. Did I let it happen or did I want it to happen? Did I ask for it or did I fall into it? Am I beating 'em or joining 'em?

Upon Learning of the Birth of a Friend's Baby

Me: Hey Bird, do you think we should have a baby in this house someday?

Bird: **blink**

Me: Would you like to have a baby brother? Or a sister?

Bird (thinks for a second, and then): No, I don't want brother and sister. I just have sandwich.