Brandi Carlisle and Amy Ray vs. the Bully (i.e. Time Out for Theta Mom Thursday)

So, I was going to do my spectacular awards ceremony today with all the awards I have been given in the last month or so (nine in all, can you believe it? So stoked!), however, I thought our stupid computer was working again until I tried to pull up the internet and all I have is a local connection. And I can't figure out what is wrong. Boooo....so I can't download the pictures of all the awards and stuff. Soooo...once again, it will have to wait until my husband gets home from work and can fix it for me because I am computer language illiterate. I am once again on my mom's laptop. And once again, thank you Mom!

Instead, I will do the Time Out For Theta Mom Thursday! Yippee! I am a newbie to this one. I've read everyone else's on Thursdays and had hoped to be able to do my own someday and have something exciting to write about besides the one shower I get to take a week. Well, step aside shower story because Someday has arrived!

On Monday evening, I went to a concert! Not even a Wiggles concert, but one for ADULTS! I went to a local bar here in town called George's Majestic Lounge with my sister, Jill, and best friend, Liz, to see Brandi Carlisle and Amy Ray from the Indigo Girls! And I had TWO glasses of wine, which let's face it, in my twenties two glasses of wine would have been like lemonade to me, but these days, it is like drinking 5 vodka tonics. Anyway, last year, when I was about six months pregnant, I saw the Indigo Girls with my friend, Liz, and Brandi Carlisle opened for them. Both acts were absolutely amazing! This time, Amy Ray and her solo band opened for Brandi Carlisle.

The three of us stood up front the entire show. Well, actually, we tried to stand up front the entire show. But not all of us could. Why? Because of the bully.

We were to the right of the stage, right up front. Directly behind us was a tall, gigantic version of KD Lang who was VERY messed up and VERY protective of her girlfriend, who was standing next to us. She would put her arm around her girlfriend, practically falling on top of her shorter, Jewel-looking girlfriend, and block her from us, all the while pushing us further and further back with her giant elbow and staggering stance. Then, suddenly, she would disappear for a while only to show up a few minutes later and start pushing again. Um, hello, can't you see the wedding rings we are wearing? Whether we are married to a man or woman is irrelevant. We are taken and have no interest in your girlfriend.

The whole scenario got worse when Brandi Carlisle started to play. That gigantic girl must loooooooove her some Brandi Carlisle. She bullied her way in between the three of us and started inviting her friends who were in the back to come up front and stand next to her! So freaking rude. Eventually, my sister got separated from us and had to stand a few feet back. I wanted to slap that spiky flat top hair right off her head.

About halfway through Brandi's set, Liz felt ill in the tum-tum from too much brewski and I think my sister was tired of being squished in a passive-aggressive girl sandwich, so they went to the bar to sit. I, on the other hand, stayed and stood my little ground.

At some point, the bully left for a while, only to return more drunk and loud. She kept yelling things like, "Fuck yeah, dude!" and "Right on!" in my ear. I had had enough and the two glasses of wine I had were kicking in. I stepped in front of her and elbowed my way to the front up against the railing. I was proud of myself, although I don't even think she noticed. At one point, she was jumping up and down and fell on top of me. I don't think she noticed that, either.

Despite the bully, I had an amazing time! I did, however, regret the two glasses of wine the next morning when my son woke up at 7 am and I felt extremely nauseated with a pounding headache. One year olds don't sit still. Ever.

I have pictures from the evening, but like I said, I can' t download anything...so, I will add them to my next post! The picture at the top is one of my friend, Liz, and I from May.

A side note: I used to be able to drag pictures to wherever I wanted them on my blog page, but for some reason, blogspot is no longer letting me do that. So, if anyone can tell me how to move pictures around, I would greatly appreciate it. Otherwise, it will ever so slowly drive me crazy. And I don't need anything else to make me crazy...ask my husband.

Boo hoo hoo

Just a quick post.

Just have a little something to whine about.

Today I tried to wipe a hair away from around my eye.

Until I realized it wasn't going to go anywhere because it wasn't a hair.

It was a new crow's feet wrinkle.

One that came to join the ranks of soooo many others.

The reflection of myself in the mirror looking back at myself was embarrassed for myself.

Aye, yi, yi.

All The Single Mommies! Oh oh oh oh oh oh!

I know I said my next blog would be an awards ceremony, but I've got to give props to all the single mothers out there first. I've had a small, small taste of your world this week and to be perfectly frank, I don't know HOW YOU DO IT!!

My husband was out of town this entire week. He left Sunday and comes back tonight (finally!). He has left town before...just not for a whole week. It is usually three days at the most.

And I have to tell you...I was looking forward to this week alone. I actually enjoy alone time - even before I became a mother, I was fine being alone. I was looking forward to watching Project Runway in my jammies with no interruptions, eating soup for dinner (my husband thinks soup is pointless as a meal and I love it - it's coziness in a bowl!), reading blogs, writing blogs, keeping the house calm and collected (my husband is the fun one who gets my son and dogs riled up), keeping order and chaos to a minimum. And for the most part, I did okay. I did get to watch Project Runway, I did have soup for dinner twice, and I kept everyone and every dog pretty even tempered.

However, I thought I would have more alone time in the evenings and during Max's naps to blog and read and catch up on chores. I'm not sure where I got that deranged idea. I had no time. I haven't checked my blogs all week. I haven't written since Monday. I'm behind in laundry, dishes, I have clothes to hang and put away, I've only showered once all week, my face has broken out in zits (which hasn't happened in years), and I'm starving by 4 0'clock because I forget to eat after breakfast.

By the third evening, I started going to bed feeling a little bit defeated. And I had this unending sense of impending doom lurking around inside my head and chest. My shoulders and back have been aching from stress (well, and from carrying our 50 pound, all-muscle, bull terrier from the back door to the bathtub twice a day. It has been raining here all week and that barking battle axe gets MUUUUUDDY!), and I had nightmares again.

What I want to know from all you rock star single moms out there is how do you not just let your kids watch tv all day? On Tuesday, I let Max watch Sprout and Noggin most of the day so I could try to gain some chore momentum. And I felt guilty about it ALL DAY, too. I know I'm not supposed to let a one year old stare into the boob tube for an entire afternoon of Sesame Street, Blue's Clues, and Yo Gabba Gabba, but what other choice did I have? My house was starting to smell like wet dog and old cheese.

And what about those single moms (or dads!) who work outside of the home all day and then have to come home to clean and cook and give baths and do bedtime routines and all that jazz ALL BY THEMSELVES? I'm surprised you have showers at all. Someone should give you a million dollars. Or at least write you a song. "All the Single Mommies" should be Beyonce's next big hit.

So, to All the Single Mommies, All the Single Mommies, cheers to you. I have great respect and adoration for you. I am sincerely in awe of you. I even tear up a bit thinking about you...in the same way I tear up when contestants lose a lot of weight on The Biggest Loser (that show reduces me to a blubbering mess every time). It is because I am very proud of you...your courage, your stamina, your discipline, your selflessness. I should never complain about my husband again (but you know I will) because at least I have someone else to take out the recycling (another thing I never did this week. Wait...maybe that is why my house smells like old cheese?).

Are you up to the Five Word Challenge?

Hello all!

Our computer still isn't working, but I am borrowing my mom's laptop (thanks, Mom!) so I can keep feeding my addiction.

On my mom's blog, Life Not Wasted Or Lost, she had a post about the five-word challenge. It is a deal where someone in the blogosphere sends you five words and you have to write a little sumthin' sumthin' about each word as it applies to your life. So, I signed up!

But, being that Janie B. is my mother and knows me very well, she gave me five words which have deep significance in my life and it will be very hard for me to keep each word to a paragraph. Again, thanks Mom! But, I am up for the challenge...

1. Motherhood

Yikes. That's a big one. All I ever wanted to be growing up was a mother. No career aspirations outside the realm of domestic goddess. I didn't get to be a wife or a mom until my thirties, therefore my twenties were somewhat torturous as I yearned for a settled life with a family. And having a child wasn't easy for me. We tried for 13 months before I finally went into surgery for three different kinds of endometriosis. My birth experience was brutal and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. And then I settled into post-partum depression for about six months. It was rough and a far, far cry from what I had imagined motherhood would be. Motherhood has been a well worth it challenge that has reduced me to screaming tears sometimes, but I wouldn' t have it any other way. It has left me emotionally raw with searing wounds that may never go away. However, none of this has stopped me from wanting to do it all over again! I can't imagine my life without my son. He is a dream come true.

2. Poetry

I have a love/hate relationship with poetry. In college, one of my bachelor's degrees was English with an emphasis in Creative Writing and Poetry. I wasn't half bad at it. It was also humbling and full of literature-type-I'm-better-than-you- know-it-alls who drove me crazy. I love poetry for its grace and metaphors and genius, and I hate it for the ache it gives me in my gut. Poetry gives me anxiety because people expect me to write it - I was good at it and was accepted into the master's program (although I turned it down). And it gives me anxiety because I wonder, "Should I be writing poetry just because I'm good at it? Even if I'm not drawn to it?" I love to read it, I hate feeling guilty because I'm not writing it. I don't yearn to write poetry. Therefore, I have a love/hate relationship with poetry. As soon as I can rid myself of the guilt of not writing poetry and disappointing everyone, then I can once again enjoy reading it.

3. Music

Love it. I've always been musical - I grew up playing the piano and was in Choir all through junior high and high school. I miss my piano - it is at my mother's house because we don't have room for it. Someday ... someday. I do yearn to play the piano. I was never a prodigy or anything, but I did enjoy playing. I took lessons for 12 years and stopped when I went to college. I'd like to take lessons again someday. For now, I get my music fix by singing to my son and listening to my faves, like the Indigo Girls, Stevie Wonder, Al Green, Brandi Carlisle, and Fleetwood Mac. I had my son's birth cards read when he was born by my friend, Marianne, and the cards said he would be musical, as well. Which is already true because he dances and moves his head around at the slightest note! My husband is also obsessed with music and can beat out the rhythm like a drum from almost any song.

4. Christmas

Love it. Obsessed with it. So is my sister. This is probably because our childhood Christmas's were so great. I love everything about it - cookies, carols, Christmas trees, ornaments, house lights, giving gifts, bright wrapping paper and pretty bows, decorations, hot chocolate, and the coziness of the whole month of December! I freak out over hearing Christmas carols when I go into retail stores and I listen to them in my car beginning in November. I also put my tree up the day after Thanksgiving. I would put it up sooner if my husband would let me. The ironic thing is that my sister and I both married men who grew up not celebrating Christmas. It was new to them and not exactly welcomed at first. But, once my husband celebrated his first Christmas with us and he received all those gifts, he started believing that Christmas isn't so bad after all. Bribery. It works every time.

5. Education

Love it. I got two bachelor's degrees in college because I love learning so much, one after highschool, and the other when I turned thirty! I have no doubts that I will probably get another degree at some point in my life, whether it be through correspondence or attending a university. I love to read almost anything and everything, including classic literature, fiction, memoirs, mystery, humorous books, textbooks, but excluding romance novels. Yuck. I would like to work in a school setting someday, although I don't think I want a classroom of my own. My ideal job in an ideal world would be to work in a library. Aaaaahhhh, I'd be in heaven all...day...long.

Well, that's the five word challenge! If you would like to do the five word challenge, just let me know in the comments and I will send you five different words, too! It's fun!

Stay tuned for my next entry which will be an awards ceremony!

Stick with me, kid

I am such a wanker.

I am suffering from blogging guilt.

I've only written two blog entries in two weeks, I haven't been able to keep up and comment on all the blogs I read, I've been given several awards which I haven't had time to acknowledge, or pass on. I'm a blogging wanker!!

And I will continue to be a wanker because our computer is on the fritz (I'm using my mother's laptop without the mouse, so everything takes me ten times longer) and we have no idea what is it's major malfunction. My husband's brother usually rushes to our computing rescue because when the computer breaks, I am like a toddler trying to drive a car - I just bang on the steering wheel and push buttons and scream a lot until I fall out of the seat exhausted and ready for a nap.

However, my husband's brother is working in Iraq. Soooooooooooo....back to blogging guilt.

My husband starts his new job next week, so I will surely have more alone time during my son's naps to write, acknowledge, pass on, and catch up on all the lovely blogs that sustain me throughout the week. On the laptop. Thanks, Mom.

And to everyone out there is the blogosphere: I miss you.

Please stick with me!

Nightmare on my street...

So, is anyone else out there just freaking exhausted?


I am in a constant state of frenzy.

Yesterday in a rush to put my son down for a nap before I had to frenzy off to pick up the den and frantically shove something muffin-y down my throat, I gave him the wrong bottle of milk. I gave him the one on the bookcase that my husband left there God knows when, hot and starting to curdle, instead of the cold, fresh bottle sitting on the changing table. I didn't realize it until he had gulped down over an ounce of spoiled milk. Great. Thank goodness, no tummy ache.

This past summer has been the worst summer I can remember. Financial problems, death, unemployment, miscarriage, stress, lots of tears, lots of anxiety. We made it through with the faith that fall and winter will bring happiness and relief. So far, so good.

But, the scars left from this Summer of Sam, are the reason, I think, that my nightmares are back.

Now, let me insert this disclaimer before you all delete me off your blogs: I am not a psychopath. I'm just repressed. That's better, right? Anway.

Close friends and family know about my nightmares. I have had brutal nightmares for as long as I can remember. As a child, I had dreams about sharks biting off my legs in the pool, or a two-headed monster slamming my sister and I down on parking lot concrete, or riding my tricycle off the roof of a tall building. I rarely had good dreams. Just nightmares.

As I got older, the dreams became more gruesome. Let me put it this way: my dreams would have put Rob Zombie and Clive Barker to shame.

When I turned twenty-nine, I went to therapy for a year to deal with childhood issues, my parents' divorce, problems I had in my own romantic relationships. I dealt with issues of resentment, repressed anger, insecurity, fear, shame. You know, all those really fun core issues.

Insert soap box here:

I'm proud of facing my demons and going to therapy. More people should. It isn't something to be ashamed of, as some might believe, instead something of which to be proud. Most don't have the guts to face themselves in therapy. Those who do, I say, "Bravo!" And I am glad the negative social ideas about therapy are starting to fade. Anyway. I'll jump down from my slippery, soap box.

To continue. After therapy, my gruesome nightmares stopped.

Until now.

Yes, five years later, they have returned, although not as frequent. And, instead of being as gruesome and abstract as they used to be, they are now more personal. This week I had one I haven't been able to shake off.

I won't go into the details of the dream, but it dealt with murder. It was the worst nightmare I have ever had because it was so real. I felt every emotion I imagine those left behind might feel.

In the dream, I knew how this person was murdered and couldn't stop thinking about how they must have suffered, how scared they must have been, how desperate to get away. The horror of it replayed over and over and over again in my head. I thought about how we would never do the things together that I wanted to do, how I would never see this person again. I felt sick, angry, I could no longer function in my own life or even move about the house. Most of the dream, I spent bent over, sobbing and screaming.

Eventually, I woke up around 4:30 am. I was crying in my sleep. I curled up into a ball on my bed and sobbed long and loud. I cried harder when I realized it was just a dream and not true. Meanwhile, my husband didn't move. Sound asleep. I wanted to wake him up but realized there wasn't much he could do anyway. It was just another bad dream.

I cried for an hour. I turned on the TV for comfort and eventually fell asleep right before my son woke up. Then, I cried on and off the entire day.

I know the more I deal with this past summer and find peace with everything that transpired, the nightmares will cease and I can once again go back to dreaming about Jon Bon Jovi or flying in and out of castle windows, watching my deceased grandfather, who in the dream is now gay, flying around holding hands with his boyfriend.

Does anyone else have nightmares?

Date Night? Nah....

My husband and I don't do date nights. We have been on I think 2 dates since our son was born a year ago. Once to a matinee to see The Hangover and once out for dinner and drinks on our anniversary. We just can't seem to get it together enough to plan one and get a babysitter and then go through with it all. We talk about going on a date, but then...

The truth is...and this is like the cardinal sin of parenting, I know, if you want to stay sane and bonded with your spouse...but...we'd rather stay at home with our son.

Please don't yell at me! (I'm crossing my arms up in front of my face and wincing)

When I tell people this, they look like they want to slap some sense into me. "WHAT? YOU'D RATHER STAY AT HOME WITH YOUR KID?" Yes, we would.

Have you ever seen the first episode of The Brady Bunch? The one where Mike and Carol get married and go on their honeymoon? Then they miss their kids so much that they leave the hotel in the middle of the night and go pick up their kids and bring them along on their honeymoon? That's what we are like. We are like Mike and Carol Brady, except I don't have a mullet and Steve isn't gay.

Our version of a date is renting a movie after Max goes to bed. And that has only happened a handful of times, too (like last week, we rented The Soloist, but Steve fell asleep sitting up on the couch, his head fallen forward on his chest, within the first 20 minutes. He blamed it on the potatoes we had for dinner. Yay, date night).

Where am I going with this? I don't know. It's just something I was thinking about because perhaps...just maybe...we could enjoy 3 or 4 hours without our son and go on a date. I think I might be ready.

Hmmmm...it will be harder to convince my husband than me. If he could, he would attach Max to my right hip and his left, sewn and dangling between us...the three of us, walking together in a Red Rover line forever and forever. I hope he doesn't read this post - I don't want to give him any ideas...

How about everyone else? How often do you have date night? And is it hard for you to get away?