Yum!

Peanut Butter & Chocolate Chip Oatmeal Muffins

Thanks to Stephanie of Dispensing Happiness for this recipe. They are absolutely delicious, and so easy to make. I'm not the greatest of bakers, so the fact that these turned out perfectly is a testament to the ease of the recipe.

Straight from the oven they are dense, more of a rustic type of muffin compared to those store bought sugar-filled things, and the texture is wonderful. As far as taste goes, the oatmeal gives it a rich, healthy sort of taste, which is well balanced by the sweetness of the chocolate and peanutbutter. Not too sweet, but definitely not boring.

The recipe said that it made about 24 mini-muffins. I doubled it and ended up with 12 minis, 12 regular, and (since I don't have any more muffin tins) the rest went into a loaf pan which is still in the oven. Not sure how that'll turn out. I'll take it to work. They'll eat anything. :)

Nothing like getting into the kitchen to make a girl feel like she's accomplished something. And, while Jonas was at Abuela's while I made these, they were simple enough that I probably could have accomplished them even while chasing him about the house.

One of the best

f'ing blogs out there...Witt & Wisdom

Go. Read. Now.

Lazy day dreaming

It's after 11 and I'm still in my pajamas. I'd almost forgotten how good this feels. Jonas just feel asleep for his early nap and so I'm vegging. Sure, there's plenty of things I could be doing, but why bother. They'll all be there later, too.

Wil and I, after deciding that the real estate market here is grossly over-inflated, are trying to be happy with what we have. It's not that our little house is horrible or anything, it's just that we lack the motivation to make it any better. There's so much to do. Oh my god, so much. And I'm not talking about luxury things, like the new kitchen counters and appliances that I'm craving. I'm talking about the bare-bones stuff like repairing the a/c and re-doing the entire bathroom that, right now, is down to the studwork. We'd ideally, like to add on a third bedroom, maybe expand the livingroom, but I don't even know if that's possible.

Yesterday as we were driving around, we came across a carbon copy of our home. Amazing! We thought ours was one of a kind, as neither of us had ever seen another one, and between the two of us, we've covered nearly every inch of the county. But there it was, tucked back off a side street, plain as day. The only difference between this house and ours is the fact that we've screened our little front porch, and they've expanded their master bedroom. You see, with the way my roof is designed, there's really is only one logical place to expand this house without having to make major alterations, and that's exactly what these people had done. Unfortunately on our particular house, that place where you can expand easily happens to be right where our septic tank sits.

Doug, how difficult is it to relocate a septic tank?

I think that this little house could have some potential of someone else was working on it, it's just that we're so burned out and tired of it that we're losing our perspective.

Enough of the house stuff though. I'm bored with it.

Yesterday Jonas walked all the way across the livingroom and down the hall to his bedroom. Granted, he was holding on to his little walker toy, but still, quite an achievement for my little 'fraidy cat. Soon enough he'll find the courage to let go, I'm sure. And then there'll be no stopping him.

My friend, Tom, is interested in opening a coffeehouse. He wants to own the business, but he's not interested in running it. He asked if I'd be interested in being his partner. Of course I am! Read my bio, you'll see that a coffeehouse has always been my dream. Tom's one of those egghead geeks that's good with business and finance. I'm more suited to the day to day stuff, menu planning, event hosting, etc. I think that we'd probably make a good team. My only hesitation is the fact that I don't want to ruin a good friendship if the business fails, or if we have differing opinions on something. I've discussed this with Tom, and we've decided that if this all works out, he will be the sole proprieter, and I will be his salaried employee with a voice. He will be in charge of all the final decisions, but will rely heavily on me for input. It just might work.

Of course, we're a long way off from creating a reality here. About the only thing we have is a dream and a tentative location, providing the rent isn't outrageous.

They've just built this new community out here. It's all upscale housing and sophistication. There's a new highschool as well, and it's just a few miles from the college. They're also in the process of moving the county complex and courthouses out this way. And there happens to be a new plaza being built right there on the corner of the two major roads that run through. I can't think of a better place to put a business. You'll have the high-school crowd in the afternoons, the college crowd throughout the evening, and the county workers for breakfast and lunch.

So anyway, that's the dream for now. Maybe sometime in the next year or so I'll be living my dream, at least in some very small way.

Rain, rain, rain

Is it possible that the weather understands my mood?

It's raining. What else is it going to do with a tropical storm blowing through? It just seems appropriate that the weather should turn this way when I'm feeling all soggy and slushy inside.

It's hard to explain, really. Things are just... blah.

My husband and I are sort of on the outs right now. I can't put my finger on the cause. Maybe it's the fact that we are more like two strangers living under a common roof. God, what I'd give just to feel like I'm a part of his life. Just part of something.

We aren't fighting or anything, just sort of stuck in this quiet static.

I need to feel wanted and needed for more than just laundry and dishes. Need to feel like I'm more than just some financial burden. I need to feel sexy, desirable, more than just the stranger on the other side of the room... the bed.

Physically, I'm in better shape than I've been in years, and yet I feel frumpy, out of place, ugly. I guess we're never truly happy with who we are unless there's some sort of validation from an outside source.

Now, I'm not one of those people that's all "look at me! Look at me!" or anything, but every once in a while I do need a bit of acknowledgement. If that makes me selfish, then so be it.

I realize that this post isn't going anywhere, and that it lacks any sort of cohesion. My apologies. Sort of a reflection of my internal discontent.

Anyway, back to work.

Unproductive

I'm supposed to be doing all kinds of things today.

I woke up with the mindset to get things done, and now! I got Jonas ready and took him over to Abuela's for a visit so that I could really get to work around here... get the place in order.

But I dropped Jonas off, and realized that the craft store was just around the corner. So I dropped in to do a little browsing. Maybe after I got my housework done I could hang out with Heidi and get some scrapbooking done.

It's amazing, the amount of stuff they sell in the way of scrapbooking supplies! And so I filled my little basket with all sorts of bargain items. I always shop the clearance and discount aisles. It's the only way I can afford a damn thing that's not a necessity. So, with my basket full of bargains, I headed for the checkout.

I was shocked when the cashier smiled at me and uttered the words, "$75.56"
The hell you say! How in the world did I spend that much. Looking at the line forming behind me, I simply swiped the old debit card and left with my bag, knowing good and well that there was no way a $75, non-essential purchase was going to fly with Wil, or sit well with me, for that matter.

So, I sat in the car, and went through my bags, and I weeded out all the cute things that I really didn't need, and those things that could wait for another day, and I took them back inside and returned them.

God, I've never felt lower in my life, returning things that I JUST purchased. Sure, I'll return the hell out of something if I get it home and it's not what I expected it to be, ya know? But to have to sit outside the store and penny pinch like that, and then explain to the sixteen year old clerk that still lives with mom and dad, and has a brand-new, paid for car, and doesn't have to worry about the world of bills and debts and hungry tummies why it is you're returning stuff you JUST bought... humiliating.

So I returned all but about $20 worth of stuff, which I still feel guilty for keeping, and I stopped at the grocery to pick up the essentials, which I skimped on since I felt guilty for my previous spending spree. And then I came home, tucked the scrapbook stuff into the closet, and went to work on the house.

Housework is so therapeutic sometimes. When I'm upset about something, there's nothing better to do than stick a broom or a sponge in my hand. I can accomplish an entire days chores in an hour or so. So I cleaned, and I scrubbed, and I organized, and I moved some of Jonas's old toys and outgrown clothes to the shed, and I did dishes, and I fixed myself lunch, and then cleaned the kitchen again, as if to erase any sign that I had been there.

Maybe that's what the housework thing is about... maybe it's a way to erase the traces of yourself when you're feeling disgusted.

Whatever. The house is clean.

After that, I sat down at the desk and I wrote out all the thank you cards that I needed to still write out from Jonas's party.

Finally I decided to pull out my scrapbooking stuff and get to work... only to realize that I had left all of the photos at my parents. Kind of hard to scrapbook without pictures, isn't it? Dummy.

So I've wasted money I don't even have on a hobby that I can't even seem to get myself organized to do. And now I'm going to tuck all of this junk into the closet, and it'll probably me a month or more before I get another chance to do anything with it, and by then, the inspiration will be gone, and I'll be wondering what the hell I was thinking buying that color cardstock in the first place.

But it's time to go get my munchkin, and it's time to start winding down. Time to prepare myself for a full-time job that I don't want and that I resent because it keeps me from being with my family, and it makes me so tired that on my day off I'd rather not be a mommy at all.

And all of this has been just a bunch of unproductive nonsense.

What's new?

Saturday

I did not want to bathe you last night, for fear that soap might wash away the memory of another perfect day.

Stupid vet humor

This morning, as I walked through the ICU area at work, I noticed that one of the cages was occupied. I was the first one in the building, besides the kennel staff, and decided to peek in on our resident patient.

Our ICU area is in the center of the hospital, consisting of a surgery suite, two tub tables, two surgery prep tables, an x-ray room, and a special procedures room. Along the far wall is a two tiered row of cages. On the front of each cage is a clipboard to hold their cage cards and ICU sheets.

Or visitor was in cage three- logically, the third cage on the top row, on a rack, pee pad beneath, and resting quietly tucked into a comfy blanket.

Did I mention it was still dark in ICU?

I approached the cage and squinted to read the pink admittance card.

Last name: Fink
Account #: 666-1
Doctor: Any
Pet Name: Rat
Reason for Admittance: Check for Stiffness

*duh, Angie, don't you smell a hose coming on?*

Noticing that our little patient wasn't moving, I opened the cage door to check on him, afraid he may have died overnight. As the door swung open, the damn thing lunged out of the cage as if to attack me. I screeched, ducked, and landing at my feet: a spring loaded fuzzy fake rat.

The kennel staff got quite a chuckle from their hiding place around the corner. I retreated to the employee bathroom to check the status of my underwear.

Very damn funny. Kudos to whoever came up with that.

Fifteen Hours

For the first time in 15 hours, I am sitting down. Sitting down and doing nothing. You'd think I'd enjoy this moment, with Jonas and Wil over at his parents, and the house relatively quiet. But I'm not one to loaf about. No, it's just not in my blood. Since waking this morning I have put in a full day at work, visited with both sides of the family, cleaned the litter box, swept the tile, vacuumed the carpets, washed the dishes, cleaned out and organized Jonas's dresser, bagged up all of his outgrown clothes to return to their respective donors, or give to charity, and I'm on my second load of laundry. Not bad for a day's work, eh?

But the day hasn't ended yet, and though I am exhausted, I can't seem to stop. Now I'm getting ready to drag all of these boxes full of hand-me-down hand me downs out to the shed until they can be reunited with their proper owners.

And I can't help but think about how fortunate I've been, despite all of the rough things we've been through in the past year. Without friends, family and co-workers, I don't know if we would have been able to survive at all.

So here, for the world to see, or at least the few folks that stop by, I am going to try and list all of the kind things that have been done for us. If I miss anyone, I'm sorry, but after 15 hours of hard labor, my mind is a bit frazzled.

1. Debbie- She loaned us a stroller, carseat, baby monitor, and changing table pad. She also gave us a metric ton of clothing and linens.

2. Cindy the cleaning lady- 40 lbs of gently used baby clothes. (It really is 40 lbs.-- I weighed the box on the scale at work. Various toys her grandson had outgrown/had no interest in.

3. Cindy, the punk girl that got fired for having the balls to be herself- a gift certificate for a fancy restaurant that Wil and I still haven't found time to go to. Maybe one of these days.

4. My parents- for financial support when there were no finances. For all the food we've pilfered from their cabinets over the past year. For moral support and a swift kick in the ass when needed. For making sure Jonas had a Christmas, and a birthday worth remembering. For all the little things here and there, like clothes, a high-chair, a playpen.

5. Wil's parents- For unlimited hours of babysitting so that we don't have to pay for a full week at daycare, and for the occasional dinner sent home when I'm just too damn tired to cook. For the money and savings bonds set aside for Jonas. For being brave enough to move away from secure jobs and friends in order to be here with us.

6. For Heidi- who understands and listens when I'm at my most insane. Who lets me cry without question, and who listens to me brag about my son incessantly. For beers shared on a back porch, and for medical records looked up when doctors weren't talking. For spending days, and nights, in the hospital with us even after pulling a double in the Emergency room. For bottomless coffee, laughter, and just plain old there-ness.

7. The Pediatrician's office- For putting up with my non-stop phone calls, seeing my son on the spur of the moment, and for stopping at nothing, despite my lack of financial resources, to get to the bottom of every last one of his illnesses. For not considering me a Munchausen Mom or calling me a hypochondriac for having a persistently sick kid.

8. For you, my friends, for listening to me babble on and on about just about everything and nothing. For giving me support through words. For being the friends that I don't have in "real" life and for sharing my laughter and tears.

9. For the girls and guys at work who, not only put up with my constant absence, but also raised over $400 to give us so that we could eat and pay bills while Jonas was in the hospital. For all of your understanding, frustration, and flexibility with my schedule. I may bitch and moan about the hours I put in, or that I'm burnt out on the job, but I've never worked with a more tight-knit and caring bunch of people.

10. For my husband, who, after a long day, still takes the baby for at least half an hour so that I can shower, or just be alone.

11. For my dog who must have an iron bladder. I apologize for all of the times I've made you wait for ungodly unreasonable amounts of hours just to go outside and pee. For understanding that the foot of the bed is the only acceptable place on the bed for you, and even that's a stretch. For not tearing the baby's face off when he grabs your tail or tackles you. You're a good girl, and will always be one of my dearest friends.

12. For my cats, who put up with insane baby torture on a daily basis. I promise the fur will grow back eventually.

13. God/Goddess/The All- call it what you will- for blessing me with the opportunity to be a mother. For trusting me with this enormous responsibility and giving me the strength to go on day after day, set back after set back. For giving me courage, beauty, humility, and health and laughter. Sometimes the laughter more than anything else.

14. Most importantly, my son, for making each moment of my life seem magical. For waking every morning with a smile, even when smiling hurt. For forgiving me for not being the best mommy in the whole world and for understanding that I'm doing my absolute best. For being a trooper through all of the needles and x-rays and ultrasounds. For tolerating the nebi. For the promise of a lifetime of things to be proud of. I love you, son, more than you can possibly comprehend.

Mindless babble...

This blog was never meant to be a place for me to come and discuss work. As a matter of fact, it's more about getting away from work. But sometimes a job can consume you, swallow every bit of what once made you unique. Right now I'd like to take a moment to say goodbye to Hunter.

He was a good dog. Beautiful old golden with the biggest head you could ever imagine. Always spunky and loveable. Hunter boarded with us at least one week a month while his owners were off on business. He's been a patient his entire 12 years.

Yesterday morning he came in for a visit because he'd been a little sick. Just some occasional vomiting. Nothing major. The doctor ran some bloodwork, discussed his ongiong problems with arthritis, and sent him home pending the bloodwork results.

Later in the afternoon his owner called crying because Hunter was in really bad shape. She didn't have the car and her husband was over in Orlando on business.

We're not usually a taxi service, but there are some clients that we'll go to the ends of the earth for. So Amy drove across town and picked them up. By the time he arrived he was barely breathing, and before we could even get him hooked up the an EKG, he was gone.

So goodbye, Hunter, you beautiful soul. You were very much loved in this life. May the next one be just as wonderful.

And that's enough of that.

Begin new topic:

Wil and I have been craving a vacation lately. It's not really that we have anywhere that we really want to go or anything. We just want a little break in the routine, ya know? Life has become complacent, and now that Jonas is a little older, it makes actually getting out and doing something a bit easier.

So where to go?

Requirements:

* It obviously has to be kid friendly.
* It can't be far away, since neither of our cars will withstand much of a trip.
* It has to be at least somewhat relaxing. I don't like crowds.

Does such a place exist?

Sure, we could go over to Orlando for the weekend, maybe do one of the theme parks or something, but come on, it's nearly 100 degrees outside, and that's without the heat index. And did I mention that I hate crowds?

I'm all for camping, but again, notice the current weather.

So I'm open for suggestions.

I've been thinking that it's about time that I actually trusted someone with watching my son. Wil's mom is dying for us to leave him overnight sometime. As nice as it would be to have some adult time, I just can't seem to swallow that. It's not that I don't think that she'd take care of him or anything. As a matter of fact, she probably coddles him more than I do. I'm just not ready for that sort of separation. An afternoon is fine, but I know that an overnight sort of thing would leave me an emotional wreck. Eventually it's something we're going to have to do, but at what point does a new mom say "Ok, take my kid, I'll be back tomorrow."

And now we're back to the unhealthy attachment thing. Funny how everything seems to come full circle.

Here's the part where I start making excuses for NOT taking a vacation.

We really don't have the money to be going off on any sort of a trip, not even a small one. The hotel alone would probably eat into our bill money. On top of that, I'd have to either pay someone to come and take care of the critters, or else I'd have to board them. And with Hulk as sick as he is right now, I probably shouldn't go off leaving him. I guess we really should wait at least until he's gone. It won't be long now.

We're planning on trying to get to Laura and Doug's wedding. Yeah, it's a while away still, but any sort of trip requires a lot of planning for us, and I'm afraid that going somewhere, even somewhere close by and inexpensive might jeopardize those plans in some way.

Still, it'd be nice to get away for a day or two. We'll see.


I sometimes miss the old nomadic me. Not that I'm a great world traveler or anything. Hell, I've never even been out of the US, but I did used to just take off and go when the urge struck me. Usually dragging Heidi along for the ride.

God we had some great times. A beat up car and $20 in my pocket was all that we needed. Everything else, we figured, would just sort of fall into our laps. Usually it did, and when it didn't, that was ok, too. Maybe it's just the freedom I miss. Life has completely changed since those days. We're both married now, I've got a kid. I love everything about my current situation, but at the same time, I need a little excitement in my life... a change from the every day routine.

Some day I'm going to have to learn that it's ok to be just a little bit selfish.

My big boy

Thank you for blessing me with one magical year. I love you, son.

The Party

What a great time we all had at J's birthday party! Of course, we went totally overboard on the food, but we always do.

Our menu was nowhere near as elaborate as Laura's, but there was more than enough:

Guacamole and chips, Italian sausage on rosemary skewers, shrimp cocktails, Smoked pulled pork, brisket and grilled chicken, spanish red beans and rice, grean bean casserole, fresh baked rolls, a spring salad, and buttered baby potatoes and corn. Yum! Jonas ate almost everything, which is quite amazing considering how picky he's become.

The cake turned out perfectly, and we've got some great footage of him destroying it, icicng smeared from his eyebrows to his belly-button. He really loved getting all messy, but he was a bit shy with all the people around watching him. I never thought I'd see the day that my pompous and demanding little leo acted shy and reserved.


After cake, and the necessary bath, we opened presents. He was tired by this point, and had a lot less fun with it than I thought he would. Jonas usually loves crinkling paper, so I thought tearing into gifts would be super fun for him, but he was more interested in checking out the books on Granny's bookshelf than playing with any of his new stuff.

He did get some really cool gifts, though. His favorite, so far, is a truck sent to him from his Uncle Brian, Aunt Amanda, and Cousin Aaron from Oregon. It's called a Handle Haulerand is very easy to push around. It also makes some pretty cool farm noises, and has a little horse and cow to fit into the removable corrals that fit into the truck bed. In a quiet moment last night, just before bed, Wil got some great video of him quietly pushing it around the livingroom.

Other gifts included a few Baby Einstein products. They're awesome, for any who are not familiar. Some books, clothes, and nearly the entire line of Leap Start products. They make great interactive toys, many of them bilingual. We now all know that a cow in spanish is a Vaca. :) We've heard it a million times this morning.

Overall, nothing could have gone better, and I'm so happy that we decided to make a big fuss over his first birthday, despite all the nay-sayers that thought we were being totally ridiculous.

Hey, if it were up to me, his birthday would be a national holiday. :)

Pictures to come shortly. I left the camera at my parents last night. Oops!

Happy Birthday Jonas!!

Well, it's here, he's finally one! It's hard to believe that it's been a whole year since he came into this world.

We took him for portraits today. They turned out beautiful. Too bad they won't be back until Sept. 1. I was hoping to send them out with thank your cards. I'm sure that there'll be plenty of pictures from the party to share.

Right now I'm about 2/3 of the way through making his birthday cake. Everyone thinks it's kind of silly to be making such an elaborate cake when he's not even going to remember it, but hey, the pictures will be great, right? And I will remember, even if he doesn't. And honestly, he deserves nothing more than the best.

Anyway, back to icing. Yippie.

A little too late

Hulk's bloodwork came back this morning. I'm no freakin' doctor, but I know bad news when I see it.

It's official... he's got renal failure... apparently end-stage, which leads me to wonder why it was never detected before. I mean, come-on, I've never, in all my years at the clinic, seen a cat so young with such profound disease. It makes me sad to know that, if discovered a few years ago, we might have been able to pro-long his quality of life.

Right now there's not much left to do but prepare for our good-byes, which will be coming soon.

I've got him on fluids for the next few days, but that's more for my benefit than his. Fact is, he's not going to get any better. The doctor's amazed that he's doing as well as he is. So, we'll get through this weekend and Jonas's birthday party, and then we'll give him the good stuff.

I just don't want his death looming over what is supposed to be a happy occasion, I guess. Of course, I think it already is.

Scrawny kitty

We've sort of known that something was up for a while. I mean, come on, who owns a cat named Hulk that is small enough to fit in a shoebox? Ok, a children's shoe box.

He's always acted healthy enough, though. Outside of a rare vaccine reaction, and a UTI every now and then, he's been a wonderful and low maintenance pet. Still, I couldn't help but compare him to his brother, Hogan, (for the record, they came with those names) who is the exact opposite of him. A rotund, fluffy, fills up your lap kind of creature.

Today I gave in and took him to work. He's been urinating on the floor beside the litter box, which is his usual sign that he's got another UTI, only his urine is dilute, not heavy or bloody. I'm thinking kidney failure, and preparing myself for the worst possible outcome.

So off to the clinic we go, Hulk, Jonas and I. Last year when I had him in just for his check-up, he weighed 8.3 lbs... not a big cat at all, but today the scale just about reached up and smacked me in the face! 5.5 lbs! He's lost three pounds in a year. How did I not notice it? Three pounds is pretty damn significant in a cat that tiny.

I ran a glucose on him, and that was normal, so we know it's not diabetes. So we're down to the two other common kitty killers... Thyroid or Kidney. I'm hoping for thyroid, since, of the two, it's the most treatable one. Never thought I'd be praying for a life-long illness.

Our clinic is one of the only ones in the entire state that is set up for radioactive iodine treatment. So, if I can save up the money, I may even be able to "cure" him. The problem is, the procedure costs nearly $800. Ugh! I can't remember the last time I spent $800 on anything! Sure, I get a discount, but still, I don't think it's a workable solution for us.

Anyone care to donate to the Save the Scrawny Kitty fund?

So the bloodwork is off to the lab, and all I can do is wait patiently. Hopefully I got it drawn in time to get the results in the morning. Let's wait and see.

Comfort Food

I'm eating comfort food for dinner tonight. Sometimes I think we eat to fill gaps in our emotional lives rather than empty places in our tummies.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not one of those compulsive eaters that'll empty the fridge in one sitting or anything, but food is so complex, and it affects us on so many levels. Now you know why I've been fat all my life. I use food to fill voids.

Ok, so it's time to purge. Not in the physical sense. Nope, not bullemic either, except with words.

There's this deep dark secret eating away at my insides. It's been there a while, festering and spreading, and it's time I dragged it to the surface and exposed it to the harsh light of acceptance.

Ok, so here goes:

I fantasize about being a single mom. Doesn't sound so deep and dark now, does it? I don't hate my husband or anything. As a matter of fact, I love him more than I ever thought possible, but I'm just too damn tired to try and hold a relationship together while also, for the most part, raising our son on my own.

Maybe it's just that men aren't built to be as strong as us women, but Wil thinks that as long as he puts a day in at work, he's exempt from any other duties. That would be just fine with me, if I wasn't having to work AND take care of everything else. He doesn't cook, he doesn't do laundry, he doesn't clean floors, walk dogs, change litter boxes, scrub showers, nothing. And I have to nearly beg him to spend any time with Jonas. When he does, it's only begrudgingly.

Maybe I'm not being fair. I know that he works a tough job, and that he puts in a lot of long hours. But hey, I think I do too. I'm up by 4:30 every morning, gone by 6:30, and I don't even get back home until after 6 in the evening. Then I have to figure out what's for dinner, make sure that everything is ready for tomorrow, feed the critters, clean up after them. If I'm lucky I get 20 minutes to actually just sit on the floor with Jonas and watch him play. Then it's bath and bedtime. And Wil can't understand why I fall asleep before 9 most nights.

Sure, I only work 4 days a week, but they're REALLY long days. And my days off are really just days to catch up on all the shit that's leftover from the day before.

I could handle all of this if I didn't also have to handle the anger that I feel because of his lack of help. Yes, he knows, we've discussed it at length, but nothing changes, and then I'm just more angry because now I've made the effort to express my feelings (something not at all easy for me) and they've been ignored.

I just can't help but think sometimes that it'd be a little easier if I had one less person to worry about pleasing.

Maybe it's all just a desire and a need to simplify life in general. Either way, I can't help but feel guilty about the fact that when it comes to my relationship with the man that I'm supposed to be spending the rest of my life with, I could take it or leave it.

And that's the dirty little secret that's been gnawing away at my innards lately.

Almost too much

I can't remember the last time I blogged anything of significance. I don't know if there's anything even of significance to write about, but I will try with this post to at least touch on something other than mindless babble. Providing Jonas stays asleep for another 5 minutes.

There's so much going on in my little world, but to speak of it would really just make it seem even more trite and whiney than it really is.

I've dipped into some sort of a funk over the last few days. No, it's not depression, exactly, more of just an overwhelmed, want to go bury myself in a dark hole for a while sort of feeling. I guess it's just because I have so many freaking demands, and so little time in which to meet them.

The most pressing of issues is Jonas's upcomming birthday. My little baby is going to be a year old. Has it really been a year? It's strange, because I can look at him and still see him as this tiny, vulnerable soul, and yet, he's not anymore. It's harder to let go than I ever imagined. Seems silly to whine about him growing up, and it's not exactly that I'm sad about it... I just find it harder and harder to... damn, I don't know how to put it... relate? to him? Nurture him? Ok, so I feel like I'm not as needed anymore.

You'd think that would be a good thing, but I miss being the center of his little universe. I miss those unconditional little grins just because I was there. Sure, we still laugh and giggle and play and have a great time, but his world is expanding, there is so much for him to explore! He's not interested in cuddling with his Mommy at all. I should be proud of him, and I am. It's just a lonliness issue with myself. I'm still celebrating his milestones everyday. For instance, he unrolled the toilet paper this morning and turned himself into a little mummy. That was great, had me rolling on the floor.

So the birthday party is this weekend. I'm stressed for so many reasons. First, it'll be the first time the two families have been together since the fiasco that was our wedding. That experience left a sour taste in everyone's mouths and I don't want that negativity flowing over into this occasion. And it's even harder since no one can communicate with anyone else. So, we're just going to sit in a room together and smile stupidly and that'll be it.

We haven't bought the first gift for J-man, either. We're financially strapped right now. If we don't pay the utility bill Monday, they'll be cutting our power off. Somehow, that has to take precedence over birthday gifts. Our homeowner's insurance premium is also due, and we just got a letter stating that our adjustable rate mortgage has been adjusted. We're now paying more interest on our house than we are on our car. That's just obscene.

See, like I said... pure whining bullshit. I should be thankful that we have a house at all. Sometimes it's easy to lose sight of the things that are most important.

It's time for my review at work. This requires a self-evaluation that I have been putting off all week. What can I say about myself? I hate the job and have no desire to be there. Of course my performance has been less than stellar. But can you really say that and still hope that they'll give you a raise? Of course not. And I'm not good at bullshitting, or at bragging about all the things that I do well. Ugh.

And on a total tangent from my little universe of minor inconveniences... my best friend in the whole world is sick. She's losing her mind. Not in the psychological sense. No, she's one of the most grounded people I know. But for some reason, she's losing chunks of time. At first it was just an occasional blink... an appointment forgotten, or a lunch date. Now it's days, entire days, erased from her mind. We hung out Tuesday, and on Thursday she had no recollection at all. We even discussed it on Thursday, and by Friday afternoon she was calling me at work to ask me to fill her in on what we had done. She realizes that something is wrong, and has called her doctor to make an appointment only to be put off for a month. It seems like something like total memory loss would take priority over things like the sniffles, but that's the world of medicine, I suppose.

Meanwhile, she's writing everything she does down in a journal so that she can look back and see what she's forgotten. It's scary to be 27 and struggling with something so huge, I'm sure. And I worry about her constantly. What the hell can cause you to just lose huge chunks of your time like that? What strange and uncurable disease chews moth-holes in your brain like that all of a sudden?

I guess all we can do is wait and see.

This entry has gone nowhere, and I realize that. My apologies to those hoping to find something with some meat to it. Seems that my mental pantry is just as empty as the one in my kitchen lately.

It'll come back one day.

Feeling Scrappy

Heidi has finally motivated me enough to get me started on Jonas's scrapbook. Honestly, isn't it about damn time?! The kid'll be a year old next week! (yikes!)

So I've poured through my thousands and thousands (literally) of digital pics and selected the best of them. I've picked out the paper and the embellishments and all the stuff that you need in order to make a proper scrapbook. I've spent almost $90 on this so far, and I haven't even begun! But I feel like it's something that I need to do. For me, and for my son. I want to be able to remember all of the milestones. I want him to be able to look back and see them, too.

His first birthday present arrived in the mail yesterday. It's from his Aunt Jessica. I'm such a kid myself, I could hardly resist the urge to let him open it early. It doesn't help that I'm totally jazzed about what's inside. It's the LeapStart Learning Drum. A cool little toy drum that also displays the alphabet as you beat on it. I've wanted to buy one for him for a while, but decided to hold out for his birthday. I know he's going to love it. One of his favorite things to do is the bang on stuff... the washer, the refrigerator, Mom's belly, Daddy's face... I REALLY can't wait for him to open it!

Ok, it's time to go pick up my prints and get started on this. Wish me luck! I have such a bad habit of starting things and never finishing. I CAN'T let that happen this time.

That'll do

Life seems to be stuck in some sort of a rift. I have all this energy and all this desire to do something, and yet, nothing seems to get done.

This is not a complaint, simply an observation.

The weekend went well, overall. We simply enjoyed the company of ourselves and didn't have to include obligatory visits to either family in our plans. Sometimes it's nice to be a little selfish with your time.

Saturday we did go shoe shopping for Jonas. Unsuccessfully. The problem with going shoe shopping on the last weekend of a tax-free holiday is that the rest of the world is doing the same thing. We found a pair that we really liked, and for a decent price, but couldn't get a sales associate to get the proper size from the warehouse. I suppose a tiny little size 4.5M sneaker is small potatoes when it comes to commission when compared to the family of 4 standing before you. It's all good, though. I'll go back and get them on a more quiet day, and for now, my son can be the barefoot hippy baby he's been his entire life.

It's a Woodruff foot, I tell ya. We're cursed with these duck-like protrusions that are narrow at the heel, high in the arch and wide at the toe. You buy a wide, it slides off the back. You buy a regular width, it crushes your toes. It's nearly impossible to find a comfortable and well-fitting shoe. I gave up a long time ago. I either wear uncomfortable girlie shoes, and for sneakers,I buy mens shoes. They run a bit wider than the women's version. Now I've condemned my son to the same lifetime of foot misery.

The latin market was uneventful. Wil got his Malta, and we picked up some sausages and spices for his mother. A fair trade for getting home-cooked meals on occasion. I was looking forward to a hand-made quesito, but the ones on display looked like they'd been there a while, all crumpled and busted. I couldn't bring myself to buy one.

There's something about the latin market... something about the third-world sort of uncleanliness of it.. the disorganization and the overall cheapness of it that makes me love it and hate it all at once. Love it, because it reminds me somewhat of the little country store near my grandma's back home. Dusty, dark and dank. An old freezer case humming in the corner and a cowboy hunkered down on a ripped naugahide barstool spitting his dip into a styrofoam cup. Not a far cry from the tired linoleum and flickering flourescent lighting of the latin store. The only difference is that the cowboy has been replaced with a round-faced grandmother with greying hair upswept into a clumsy bun. The grocery, just like that old country store is just a nostalgic saturday treat. And I wish that those boxes and jars, with their foreign labels and exotic scents held some sort of sweet memory for me. But watching Wil's reaction, and the way his fingers lovingly caress certain child-hood favorites as he meanders up and down each aisle... that is enough.

Sunday was simple grocery shopping- just a few necessities to get us through until the next paycheck. Afterwards, we stopped at our favorite Mexican restaurant for guacamole and salsa. We can't really afford to be eating out at all, and yet, it's that one little luxury we still allow ourselves. We like food... a lot. We can live without high-tech gadgets, dates out to movie theaters or concerts seem a waste. But to be able to be together, sharing food. It's something intimate and absolutely worth the wasted money. We're even turing our son into a restaurant junkie. He loves going to different places and flirting with the waitresses. He's a total ham. He likes food, too. As long as it doesn't come in a jar.

After our late lunch, we came home to relax and enjoy the rest of the day together. Jonas conked out for a long nap and Mom and Dad took advantage of the time alone to attend to... ahem... adult matters.

*Little sis: if you're reading, this means that we paid bills and played a game of Scrabble* For the rest of the world, I'm sure no definition is required.

Yeah, yeah, I've gone and gotten all personal now. So what... it's the first time in, what? like 6 months or more. I could shout from the rooftops and still not feel like I've celebrated enough. I wonder if the rest of you who have children have experienced this endless period of nookie-less living after their birth? Or am I the only freak that, even a year post-baby, still isn't interested in having much of anything to do with the politics of the Netherlands?

So, with all that being said... what'd y'all do this weekend?