Potty

Potty training is going remarkably well lately, and I'm happy to say LB has ahem....done her dirty work 3 WHOLE TIMES in the potty. I'm practically salivating over the notion of NOT having to buy diapers anymore. My co-worker told me that once the kids are out of diapers its like getting a raise...woo hoo! Since I'm not getting any salary increases in real life, this will certainly come in handy.

Still, she is only 22 months (on the 8th) and I really don't want to push it. My daycare's potty training policy is that I am NO LONGER ALLOWED TO PUT HER IN DIAPERS. That's it. Cold Turkey. Only Undies from here on out. They told me to pack LOTS Of extra clothes, and they will reduce the mess by setting a timer and putting her on the potty every 30 minutes.

Freakin' Potty Nazis!

So I'm going to quietly introduce the daycare potty to LB and see if she starts using it on her own.....without installing their Potty Boot camp Program. I mean, are they going to yell at her if she suddenly wanders over to the toilet and uses it?

WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING? GET YOUR BUTT ON THE CHANGING TABLE MISSY!

Speaking of butts. This morning, as I was getting LB dressed, I pulled off the cold, wet morning diaper and said "Oh wow kiddo, your butt is COLLLD! That's probably NOT very fun to sleep in!"

She grabbed her booty and said to me, quite proudly "MY BUTT."

Everything is MINE at 22 months. Can't wait till she actually TURNS 2.

Daughters

When I was 12, I went to a sleepover where the activities entailed dancing to Whitney Houston's "Queen of the Night", eating pizza and cokes, and watching scary movies. Fun huh? Well it would have been fun, had the scary movie been of the normal "tween" scary movie selection. You know, Scream, Scooby Doo, House on Haunted Hill..those type movies.


What did we watch?



The Exorcist.



Ok so the effects are cheesy, its horribly dated, the subplots are kinda boring, but that didn't matter to me. All that mattered that night was a 12-yr-old girl (oh same age as me!) was possessed by the devil and raping herself with a crucifix. Hmmm didn't get over that for a decade or two.



Honestly, I started developing a phobia of young girls, since they always seemed to be vessels of evil in EVERY MOVIE I SAW. Another reason why I thought I would never have kids. Another reason why I was psyched to have a baby boy.



I wanted nothing to do with the entire mother-daughter horror that the Exorcist represents. I wanted to stay as far away as I could from that awful notion of uncontrollable fear that a mother has when she can't help her daughter.



Sadly, its something that all parents experience. Maybe not the extent of Exorcist proportions, but sometimes there is nothing you can do for your child. Each time LB wakes up and can't be calmed, I feel that fear. And even though I am a grown woman, each time I hear a scream from her room, I revert back to my 12 yr old self, feeling the blood drain from my face during that slumber party.



Last night was a quiet one, at least.

Sowwy

After imbibing three Louises (margaritas) last night at the movie, I could have gone straight to bed. However, the red packaged dvds sitting on my counter proved too tempting to pass up. So I watched an episode of Big Love (how politically incorrect of me, after watching Thelma and Louise). Netflix sucked the rest of my evening away, and I fell into bed at around 11 pm.

I think I lay there about 15 minutes before I heard LB stirring. Whimpers eventually turned into wails, then screams. I entered the room and picked her up out of her make-shift bed, where she tearily demanded water.

She grabbed the cup so vigorously that it spilled down the front of her jammies, completely soaking both me and her. Oooh MAN did that piss her off. She morphed into red-faced, shrieking, rigor-mortis toddler as I changed her clothes. Afterwards, I tried lulling her back to dreamland, by singing her favorite song, but was halted with a throaty

"STOP IT!!"

Ok then.

For about 30 minutes she was inconsolable. The more back rubbing that was administered, the more it fed the flame. She pushed me away when I tried to hug her, she stood up in bed when I tried to lay down with her, she screamed "NOO" when I tried to offer her more water.

Finally she calmed down, completely out of the blue. No reason other than she probably was completely exhausted. I laid her down in her bed and sang to her, rubbing her back. Then I said my usual goodnight routine:

"Nite nite, I love you, I'll see you in the morning."

and from the blankets I heard

"I Sowwy Mama."

:(

Single Mom Movies

• Erin Brockovitch (the Godfather of single mom movies)
• Waitress
• North Country
• The First Wives Club
• Set it Off
• The Joy Lucky Club
• Chocolat (mmm Johnny Depp)
• All About my mother (Christ, why haven't I seen this by now? BAD film school student)
• Little Women (ok, not a single mother, but the dad is hardly in the story at all)
• Beautiful
• Mermaids
• Where the Heart Is
• Anywhere but Here
• Hideous Kinky (Anything with Kate Winslet is good)
• Finding Neverland (see above)
• White Oleander (about the murdering type of single mother..hehe)
• Daddy's Little Girls (a single father movie)

Settle

Once my mother gained the prestige of a high-paying, work-from-home job after 40 years as part of the workforce, she did what every other aging feminist would do: Subscribed to all the political, intellectual, progressive, magazines she could.

Now when she reads something she thinks I would be interested in I should read, she sends the article over to me, usually accompanied by a couple of LB's socks or half-eaten cookies she left at grandma's house.

The most recent article I was privileged to read was from The Atlantic. My mother described her reaction to the peice as "horrified". She also said she was completely shocked at her reaction. The article was written by a 40-something woman who put her career first, didn't find "true love" and ended up having a child through sperm donation. The author made a case for chosing someone who may not be your "soul mate", but who may end up being a good partner, a good father, or someone who will just BE THERE for you. She says Lonliness is worse than dissatisfaction.

Hmm. Boy was I glad I read that, being a single mom and all. It was especially pleasant after coming home from watching "Atonement", probably one of the most intensely upsetting love stories to hit the silver screen.

The article had a point though. My generation is one of post-feminist idealism. We were raised to think highly of ourselves, that we deserve the utmost respect, and should never lower ourselves to meet someone else's standards. I can remember distinctly as a child, telling my mom I wanted to be a flight attendant, to which she sneered, "BE THE PILOT!"

Understandably, our mothers came from families where they witnessed banishment to the kitchen and laundry room, where a woman's goal reached no further than securing a husband and producing offspring. Of course they want their daughters to be pilots. That's why they burned their bras and fought for a woman's right to choose, right?

The article argued that while we may still be privy to this mentality, deep down inside of us, we all want to be partners with someone who loves us in the end. Living with this dichotomy is no easy task. The author says we have become too picky, striving to find the "perfect" man who is suited to our too high standards. We have thrown away the old fashion, unromantic notion of "Love has nothing to do with a successful marriage." How Victorian, UGH.

But what does it really mean to love someone? Does it have to mean sacrficing your needs for theirs? Or does it mean that no matter what your flaws, that person will be with you through thick and thin? Are we too quick to write off someone's quirks as incompatibilty? Or are the ones who make it through marriage just complacently enduring it because they'd rather be with someone than be alone?

I know this is an extremely bitter thought, (she aint frontin') but it made me think. I would rather be single than stuck in the relationship I was in before, but that doesn't mean I am too self-righteous to think that I would be happy on my own for the rest of my life. No, I want to be with someone too. Maybe I'm lucky because now I know for sure what I DON'T want, and at least learned it at a young age.

As far as my parents go, I don't understand why my mother was so shocked at the article. She has been living with a man she is almost embarrased to be with for the last 26 years. And technically they don't even live together anymore! Do they split up? No. They stay comfortably locked into each other's world. Why? Habit? Routine? Quiet Acceptance? Or is it, as stated in the article, that they would rather be married to each other, knowing that someone else out there understands them and has stuck with them this long, than be alone? I think my parents are the perfect example of this argument.

The feminists may have fought for the nobility of self-respect and true love, but they were really just posers underneath. They burned their bras and settled down to a comfortable life, complete with a washer/dryer and 2.5 kids. Why? Because no one wants to be alone.

Valentines Day

Well I found someone at the last minute. Lets just hope the people actually SHOW UP. HAHAHA. No longer my problem.

Tomorrow is V Day. I don't think I've ever had a very memorable Valentine's Day, even when I was with someone. I guess I know how to pick the winners, huh?

Out of my fellow BFF Bloggers, one is engaged, one is married, one is single, and then there's me...ex-engaged + daughter. Funny thing is I was engaged before either of my married/engaged friends were, and now both of them are getting married before me. Not that I mind, since I really never thought I would get married, or have a child for that matter. Coming from a family of hippies, "married" is kind of a loose term, and doesn't exactly equal happiness. Love seems to be the most important thing, though I've been unsuccesful in THAT respect as well.

I must say that both Jiji and Curmudgeon have paid their dues. Both of them have kissed a lot of frogs, and its very satisfying to see how happy they are now with their chosen mates. I think they have enough experience to know what a good man is, and are smart enough to choose to be with someone who will respect them. You go girls.

JL and I have decided to be each other's Valentine this year. Which basically means, she is coming over with Netflix and I'm getting a heart-shaped pizza from Papa Murphy's. Not exactly romantic, but at least it will please a hungry toddler, and her tired mommy. Maybe next Valentine's Day, JL and I will have the luxury of being doted on, the way our two dear friends are lucky enough to be.

Much love to all of you, and your significant others. They are definitely keepers :)

What it means to be an Assistant

I'm bloging from Planet Stuffy Head. Seriously, I am hearing things as if I'm chillin' at the bottom of the bathtub. Like Charlie Brown hears the grown-ups talking in those cartoon movies we used to watch. WA WA WA WAH.

Driving down from 7000 ft this morning, my head could be compared to a balloon slowly inflating. I'm sure the other drivers were staring at me, my mouth wide open, trying to yawn the corks out of my ears. It's now 9:40 am and I still feel like I'm in a tunnel.

I am also in Administrative Limbo. Having sent out 20 something emails, calls and faxes, I'm almost in panic mode at the lack of response. I need a Spanish Translator by 10:00 am tomorrow. Living in Southwest Colorado, you wouldn't think this would be such a difficult task. Yet my phone is silent, my email empty, the fax asleep.

Do I step it up and become annoying phone call girl? Do I slink into the shadows with my tail between my legs? At this point, any call I receive will be filtered through 8 layers of cotton in my ears, and responded to in muffled grunting, in between sneezes.

I was just informed by my boss that if I don't find someone to assist this very legally sensitive matter, well...there IS no other alternative, lets just say that. WORK, YOU PEON! DO YOUR JOB! Get those fingers BUSY Little Miss Secretary! Get out there and hustle SWEETIE!

I speak broken spanish at best. Yo no tengo la palabras necessitas para este situacion. AYE CARAMBA. DIOS MIO. Ayuda ME!



*Head continues to inflate*

Midnight

LB and I both had a rough time last night. She woke up at 11:30 and started crying. When I got to her room, the crying had morphed into high pitched screeching. I tried picking her up and rocking her, but she weighs about 23 lbs now, and stands to my mid thigh. She was having NONE of the "Hush little baby" act last night. She is over the croup, and didn't seem to be in pain, so I was at a loss to why she was so upset. The more I tried to hug her, the more she turned into cherry-faced, rigor-mortis toddler.

It was not pretty. I was finally able to calm her down by singing trusty Ole' "Over the Rainbow", but I continued to hear her whimpering on and off throughout the night.

Kind of made me wonder: Is she starting to have nightmares already? That makes me sad. What would make a 19 month old wake up screaming in the night? Maybe its her mom, who leaks stress hormones from her pores, 24 hours a day.

Once I was able to get back to sleep (around 1 am), my neighbor must have slammed the door real loud and I literally sat straight up in bed, heart pounding. Ok, breathe. I really need to relax.

All though Driving in blizzard conditions isn't helping me either.

Friends

I just want to say how grateful I am to have such kick-ass friends. And now that they are entering into the blogging community, I can learn even more about them...hehe. But seriously, you know who you are, and you know what a hard time this is for me, and I just want to thank you for being there to back me up, to cheer me up and to hold me up (literally, I turned into a rag doll on the couch this weekend).

I am always in awe how confident, strong and amazing you all are. How did I get to have THREE LEOS as my best friends? How lucky can a fish be? Ok enough gushing. Just wanted you all to know that you filled my weekend with joy and a deep sense of security. It was nice to know that the empty void that has been consuming my 2008 can be filled with love. I wish you could all stay in my (or in your) living room forever.

Word to ya mothas.

Karma

So, what goes around comes around, right? But is it also bad karma to feel an evil sense of happiness when a person gets what is coming to them?

My baby's daddy has a bad case of Shingles; a very painful, truly disgusting form of herpes. Since he has moved in with his new girlfriend and her two kids, they all have had an outbreak of chicken pox, and he managed to develop the more serious version of it.

They say that people who have emotional and physical stress, and who don't take good care of themselves are more susceptible to the virus. Is that him in a nutshell? Yup.

Is he suffering? Yes.
Am I happy about it? .......ummm.

Can I really be happy about someone else's pain? I think that in itself is asking for more pain to come my way. However, I think I can feel some satisfaction that I take GOOD care of myself and my daughter, while he is off doing God-Knows-What.

At the same time, it makes me scared. Scared that he might put LB at risk. Scared that I maybe I shouldn't let her out of my sight. Is this how people become paranoid moms? Is this the reason why my mother moved us from LA to the backwoods of Vermont? Is this the reason why my grandmother has given her friggin poodle a heart condition?

I don't want to be that mom. I want to give my daughter strength and intelligence, not hide her away from the world. But she's so little, I have to protect her too. I guess I have 3-4 weeks to devise a plan before he can have any contact with her.

Part of me (the Pisces part) thinks how the hell did he know that his stanky girlfriend's kids were gonna get sick with the chicken pox? But then the other part says "Why the hell did he decide to move in with her in the first place?"

What do you think?

Eve of 2008

I haven't posted in a while because:

• I don't have Internet at home
• I've been on the road traveling
• Its been a rough couple of weeks

The Christmas in Arizona consisted of a 6 hour road trip with a neurotic poodle, accompanied by an okie grandma who snarled "Ima SMACK YOU!" every few minutes. Add that to carseat constricted toddler, and a road through the Navajo Nation that only has 3 major towns along a stretch of 300 miles. Wow that was fun.

Total chaos arose the day after Christmas when my mother, taking my grandmother on her shopping spree to Kohls, got fed up with her mom's obsessive poodle preening and told her that the dog doesn't have any real problems, its all in my grandmother's head, and she makes herself crazy over it. My grandmother responded with "Get off my back!" and "I didn't even want to come on this F**KING trip anyway!"

Thinking how petty all this was, I decided to force mommy dearest and grandma to make up. I went and talked to both of them in private and they eventually hugged and forgave each other. My mother said I "healed" the family. Fricken Hippies.

My sister who flew down from her home in Alaska thinks that the real "reason" my family has come together is because I introduced the first offspring of my generation. LB is now the glue of the family. My sis says she feels selfish for saying that. I said yeah, go get knocked up unexpectedly and raise your own damn kid. Ok. I didn't say that.

I had my first gathering at my new apartment, and it was so awesome. Having all my friends crammed (and I mean crammed) into my living room with LB climbing over piles of presents, and dogs, and plates of pizza. It was exactly why I have been longing for my own place, so I could share moments like that with the people I love.

My dad, however has NOT been having those warm happy feelings, now that he is down in Brazil. His perfect getaway was marred only 3 days after his arrival. He was on the beach outside his hotel when he was mugged by 4 guys. They took his wallet and his shitty watch, but most of all, I think my dad's romantic spirit was somewhat destroyed. The most important thing is that he's ok, and hopefully can enjoy the rest of his vacation. I guess my dad always has to learn things in his own way :(

But the lowest point of my past two weeks was that LB's daddy informed me that he is indeed seeing someone else, and is MOVING in with her at the end of the week. What a desperate loser. Can't even support himself and find a place to live on his own. He has to hook up with some desperate single mom of a 3 and 7 yr old, and stay at their house. How is that an improvement over living with me and LB? I don't understand him, and I sure as hell am glad I am no longer responsible for him. I can't say it doesn't hurt me just a tiny bit though.

2008 are you a kinder, gentler year?

Holiday Blues

Sometimes I look at my previous posting titles and I wonder if I intended to write an entirely different theme, but somehow got distracted between the title and the body. Wow.

Last night I went over to my MIL's house, where her brother had driven all the way from California to see her. She is doing so well after her mastectomy, and its always such a pleasure to be around her. Plus LB just eats up the adoration. We exchanged gifts, since I won't be around the baby daddy side of the family this year.

This made me sad for some reason. I really don't WANT to be around He-who-shall-not-be-named in the current situation at all, but I love his family dearly. The last two Christmases we have driven the hellish 15 hour drive to Long Beach, CA to see LB's Auntie. The first time I was 6 months pregnant, the second time, LB was 6 months old.

Part of me had begun to settle into a family tradition, and begun to look forward to it. This year everything is different, and there will be no jaunt to California by the three of us. There is no "three of us" anymore, really. Its LB and Me, and HIM.

Last night when her daddy finally showed up at his mom's house at 8:40 pm, I had given up on seeing him and was about to walk out the door. So there is a time period of 15 minutes where he clutches LB to his chest and hugs her before saying goodbye for Christmas. She cried and cried when we left, and after she had fallen asleep in the car, I cried.

I shouldn't have to rip my child away from her dad after only 15 minutes. I shouldn't have to miss being with a family that I have grown to love. I shouldn't have to feel guilty that I didn't try hard enough to keep us together as a family. But it doesn't matter. I do feel guilty and sad, and I DO have to make these choices that I hate to make.

As I was walking up the stairs to my apartment, a guy who looked 20-something pulled up in a Bronco. He said hi, and I greeted him. He works up at Purgatory and had just gotten off work. He lives about 3 doors down from me, so its nice to know a neighbor. As I was opening my door, he turns to me and asks

"Are you able to give the baby a Christmas this year?"

I was shocked. I just nodded. He said if I ever needed anything, I should just knock on his door.
I thanked him and went inside. I put my sleeping child to bed, and cried and cried and cried.

I can't really pin point the reason. I could be crying from the kindness of my neighbor. I could be crying because I have never been asked that question and I look like a person who needs help now. Or maybe its because of the horrible car wreck that happened this week, where a 25 year old father-to-be was killed, driving to work from Bayfield. Or maybe I'm crying because I'm lonely, and I don't want my daughter to be unhappy. Sometimes I'm afraid I've create a life for her that is going to be filled with more hardships than most kids have to face.

Whatever the reason, I feel blue today. I know I should be wallowing in the Christmas Spirit, but its hard right now.

Sedona for the Holidays

Stinky Bear got a BIIIIGGGG Present last night from my mother. It was one of these. All to herself. No siblings to share it with, and at the age of 18 1/2 months. Can we say spoiled? Nah, just really really lucky.

After single-handedly putting the contraption together, I tried to fit it into the one empty corner of my new apartment. No dice. The thing is bigger than I am.

I think we are finally settling into our place, even if there are still boxes laying around, and I have neither a TV or computer, which means no cable or Internet. I am only HALF a real person, right? I have been abusing my work computer privileges for a good 9 months now, and I think its reasonably harmless. I'm not surfing for porn.

Boo Boo Bear has noticed that there are lots of loud noises in an apartment complex, and we are on the quiet end of the building, right by the staircase. This actually gives us the bonus of side-street parking access, as well as a tiny extra window, where there would have been an adjoining apartment instead. But most of the noise comes from INSIDE the apartment.

Our toilet, for example, has suction force of a black hole. I swear I can hear particles separating mid-flush. This is actually a WELCOME change from the pathetic run of toilets that I've had. You know the ones that blow a raspberry at you, gurgle for a second and call it quits, leaving the turd rotating in the bowl. Gross, I know. I used to have to keep a cooking pot of water by the toilet so I could add that extra water power during flushing. Now THAT is white trash.

But not anymore. LB's eyes go wide when the toilet flushes, and she promptly says to me "Toilet LOUD!"

Our Heater is also at maximum tunnelforce capacity. My To-Do lists regularly get blown off the counter, as well as the coupons I've been saving. LB rounds them up, and usually puts them in the garbage, saying "TWASH."

Other than that, I am relishing everything about my living situation. I only have one question: When I can I add a kitty to 24 hr girl party?

Ok so maybe it wasn't the cottage cheese

I spent almost all of Friday night yarfing, so I'm thinking there might have been a bug crawling around LB's daycare after all. It took me all Saturday to regain my strength, which sort of sent me into a mini-panic about my move in 11 days.

I came to this conclusion:

I can NEVER get sick. I can NEVER get hurt. I can NEVER do anything that will result in me passing out/being incapacitated in any way.

Why? Because I will be the only one there. Who will be able to watch LB, if I'm bowing down to the toilet all day or night? What will happen to her if I fall down the stairs and break my neck? What if I choke on a ham sandwich, who will be there to give me the Heimlich? No one.

As much as I am ready to get the hell out of my mother's house, I must admit she is currently my safety blanket in case of emergency. If I hadn't gotten a full day worth of rest on Saturday, I don't know if I would have made it into to work today. If my mom hadn't been there to watch LB, I would probably have lost an 8 hr workday so I could power-up for the rest of the week.

Don't get me wrong. I am a competent and strong single mama. I know I can handle taking care of my child while running my own apartment. I just really need to step it up and take care of myself better (Which I think I have a head start on with the workout tree). I need to start taking vitamins, eating healthier and cut back on the wine drinkage. I know this won't guarantee my perfect health, but it will make this soon-to-be dark, dark winter season, a little less scary.

The scale said 153.4 this morning! I guess the pukefest took its toll on mi cuerpo pretty good :(