Is this Bizarro World?

.
Still feeling crappy unless I load up on OTC meds, no x-ray results and my left ear is full of fluid or whatevah it is that infected ears fill with. I swear, if my ear would drain, I would at least feel a little more human …

Since an empty fridge waits for no woman, yesterday I made a grocery run. I needed to print out my last 6 online class lessons, too, so I chose SuperTarget, as it’s right next to Office Max. I hate printing tons of stuff at home, since a new laser cartridge is so damn expensive. I’ve printed all my class stuff at FedEx/Kinkos (you can send them print jobs online) until now, but since they make you wait for the stuff, I figured I’d give Office Max a whirl. Walked in, handed them the USB key, and walked out 10 minutes later with everything printed and 3-hole-punched. I’ll be a highlighting fool in a little while, as I am way behind on my classes.

At SuperTarget, I made a spin through the toy department just to see if there was anything cool on clearance, and had the bizarro-world experience of running into Bean shopping with Dave and Miss O. Contrary to popular belief, the world did *not* spin off it’s axis with the two of us in one place … at least I don’t think it did, but I’ve got this middle ear thing kind of screwing with my balance …

Bean was excited to see me, and told me she wanted to come with me as she was “tired of being around boys”. I reminded her that Miss O was there, too, and that she missed her daddy when she wasn’t with him. Her response? “Not that much.” Ouch. I spent a few minutes with her while Dave and Miss O stayed away (O would have been very unhappy to have me leave if she saw me), and then convinced her to go back to Dave. The rest of the experience was punctuated by texting back and forth about where we were in the store and ended with me sending “I’m out” when I left. My life is just weird sometimes.

I swear, I’m going to call my doctor tomorrow and ask if I have swine flu. I can’t shake the cough and I’m still running fevers on and off. If those jerks would ever call me about my chest x-ray at least I’d know what *isn’t* wrong. Grrr …
.

digg_url = ‘http://vickv.blogspot.com/2009/04/is-this-bizarro-world.html’;
digg_skin = ‘compact’;
digg_window = ‘new’;

Something wrong? You stopped yammering.

.
I’m here.

Cranky, ornery and pissy. But here. Not sure I’ll be able to say the same for either of the girls by this time next week.

I was joking around with Bean the other day and asked her if she wanted to trade O in for a puppy. I really thought she’d say no, but her reply was an enthusiastic “yes!” I said “maybe I’ll trade you instead” and she got all sorts of upset. So we went through a big long talk about how I was just joking around about all of it, and thought she was too, that I’d never trade either of them for a puppy, yadda, yadda, yadda.

I sometimes forget that she doesn’t savvy as much as the rest of us, ya know? I had to show her that dye and die were two different words the other day after I told her I was going to dye my hair. She was horrified that I was going to “die” it, as she likes my hair. Thus began a big long talk about words that sound the same, but are spelled differently and mean different things.

Still job hunting, still way sleep deprived and now feeling the effects of being Zyrtec-less, because I think it makes me a little nutty. So I have the ‘very high’ pollen levels eating into my tiny little brain, and congesting the heck out of me, leaving me feeling like death warmed over by mid-afternoon. That’s about when my patience runs out, my over-tiredness sets in and a day’s worth of pollen does the Desperation Samba on my mucous membranes, all aligning in what I mentally refer to as the Trifecta of Impending Doom. A long, hot bath and a solid nights’ sleep could take the Trifecta down a few pegs, but O’s sleep has descended into suckfest levels, so O at home = sucktastic sleep for mommy.

And don’t even think of telling me to go to bed earlier. The 2-3 hours I carve out for myself after the girls are “asleep” is the ONLY downtime I have in a day. So sometimes, yes, I crash and burn nice and early, but usually I’m yawning my way through a greedy “me time” grab and wishing the little ones would sleep past 5 a.m. just once. That would mean that my turning in at 9:30 wouldn’t already have me missing at least an hour’s worth of my much needed solid 8 hours.

Maybe I can trade myself in on a well-trained border collie … hmmm …
.

One of these days you’re gonna have to get a grownup car.

.
After making the rounds of my local blogger friends, I’m thanking the PTB that my skylight survived Wednesday’s storm … I know at least three folks who lost theirs. For as much hail as I thought I got here, there was much worse to be had.

I met my folks for dinner last night after we finally got done with O’s appointment (Nothing like an hour + wait with your ex and your ornery as hell toddler. Fun.) Bean came running up to meet me as soon as I walked in the door at Chili’s, told me she loved me and I was her best friend at least a zillion times, and if she could have burrowed under my skin that *might* have satisfied her need to be close to me. Might have.

I’ve said it before, but it’s such a bipolar experience dealing with Bean. Not that she’s bipolar, but the extremes in behavior and

I think I’m having my own midlife crisis. I’ve been having the worst car envy of late. I drive around wishing I could zap unsuspecting drivers out of their sweet rides, and zap myself into their cars. Sometimes I even imagine zapping the kids over with me. (Sometimes I just figure the unsuspecting drivers would be so excited to inherit a dinged-up minivan and two adorable children that they wouldn’t press charges for my zapping.)

My minivan is totally practical and serviceable, but I want something that has some style and some oomph. Something that doesn’t scream “mom!” Something that’s sexy.

Mmmm … And M is the key letter here. That’s an M6. You wouldn’t ever use that much car in the U.S., and, from my limited driving experience in the Mother Country, there’s not much use for that much car on the other side of the pond, either. But that car definitely does NOT say mom. Or practical and serviceable. It probably says, to me at least, “For the love of Pete, please stop scraping my mirrors on your garage door opening!!” or “Ack! Could you for once not nail that 12-mile-deep pothole when you cut through that parking lot?!?” or “Look, stop letting the kids eat back here, ‘kay? There’s only so much sticky, crumby mess that I can take before I back over you in the next parking lot.” But if I could afford that much car, it could say whatever it wanted to me as I made all those horsies cringe at my sometimes less-than-stellar attention to the cosmetic details.

You know something sad? Miss O whacked my keyboard at some point and imposed a filing system on my Thunderbird email inboxes that I cannot for the life of me undo. And it annoys the heck out of me that 1. it’s there, and 2. my one-year-old is unwittingly more computer savvy than I am.
.

One of these days you’re gonna have to get a grownup car.

.
After making the rounds of my local blogger friends, I’m thanking the PTB that my skylight survived Wednesday’s storm … I know at least three folks who lost theirs. For as much hail as I thought I got here, there was much worse to be had.

I met my folks for dinner last night after we finally got done with O’s appointment (Nothing like an hour + wait with your ex and your ornery as hell toddler. Fun.) Bean came running up to meet me as soon as I walked in the door at Chili’s, told me she loved me and I was her best friend at least a zillion times, and if she could have burrowed under my skin that *might* have satisfied her need to be close to me. Might have.

I’ve said it before, but it’s such a bipolar experience dealing with Bean. Not that she’s bipolar, but the extremes in behavior and

I think I’m having my own midlife crisis. I’ve been having the worst car envy of late. I drive around wishing I could zap unsuspecting drivers out of their sweet rides, and zap myself into their cars. Sometimes I even imagine zapping the kids over with me. (Sometimes I just figure the unsuspecting drivers would be so excited to inherit a dinged-up minivan and two adorable children that they wouldn’t press charges for my zapping.)

My minivan is totally practical and serviceable, but I want something that has some style and some oomph. Something that doesn’t scream “mom!” Something that’s sexy.

Mmmm … And M is the key letter here. That’s an M6. You wouldn’t ever use that much car in the U.S., and, from my limited driving experience in the Mother Country, there’s not much use for that much car on the other side of the pond, either. But that car definitely does NOT say mom. Or practical and serviceable. It probably says, to me at least, “For the love of Pete, please stop scraping my mirrors on your garage door opening!!” or “Ack! Could you for once not nail that 12-mile-deep pothole when you cut through that parking lot?!?” or “Look, stop letting the kids eat back here, ‘kay? There’s only so much sticky, crumby mess that I can take before I back over you in the next parking lot.” But if I could afford that much car, it could say whatever it wanted to me as I made all those horsies cringe at my sometimes less-than-stellar attention to the cosmetic details.

You know something sad? Miss O whacked my keyboard at some point and imposed a filing system on my Thunderbird email inboxes that I cannot for the life of me undo. And it annoys the heck out of me that 1. it’s there, and 2. my one-year-old is unwittingly more computer savvy than I am.
.

You know me — all about the good deeds

.
A few linkies you might enjoy. I’m kind of scatterbrained today, and as I worked through my magazine backlog over the past few days, I found a bunch of stuff that made me say ‘huh’.

Google lets you check on flu trends: http://www.google.org/flutrends/

Nifty settings for gmail: http://mail.google.com/mail/?hl=en#settings/labs – did you know you can use Google chat to send SMS texts? Or enable mail goggles, so you don’t send drunken messages you later regret?

Download a NIN/Jane’s Addiction EP here: http://www.ninja2009.com/

A moment of Zen from a former GOP senator re: Dick Cheney’s asinine assertion that Barack Obama’s administration has put America in danger

Definitely *not* a moment of Zen for those who are taking antidepressants: http://blog.wired.com/wiredscience/2009/02/antidepressants.html

“Antidepressant drugs, already known to cause sexual side effects, may also suppress the basic human emotions of love and romance.”

Now, when it comes to treating depression versus not feeling sparky with someone, it’s an obvious choice which one is more important; but it’s something to keep in mind, especially when you’re taking an SSRI and dating. And not feeling any spark.

Hmmm …

I subscribe to The Week in print, which is where most of this came from – it’s a great condensed version of the week’s national and international press in one spot: http://www.theweek.com

For the condensed version of the alternative press, check out the Utne Reader: http://www.utne.com

I love both of these magazines, but I’m totally partial to reading the print versions. I just really like to kick it old school with reading – I want to hold the book or magazine or newspaper in my hands and be able to underline stuff or take notes or tear out pages. I really can’t get into viewing stuff online as a preferred way of reading. I’m not alone, am I? Does anyone else still prefer the old way, or has everyone except me made the switch to online reading?
.

You know me — all about the good deeds

.
A few linkies you might enjoy. I’m kind of scatterbrained today, and as I worked through my magazine backlog over the past few days, I found a bunch of stuff that made me say ‘huh’.

Google lets you check on flu trends: http://www.google.org/flutrends/

Nifty settings for gmail: http://mail.google.com/mail/?hl=en#settings/labs – did you know you can use Google chat to send SMS texts? Or enable mail goggles, so you don’t send drunken messages you later regret?

Download a NIN/Jane’s Addiction EP here: http://www.ninja2009.com/

A moment of Zen from a former GOP senator re: Dick Cheney’s asinine assertion that Barack Obama’s administration has put America in danger

Definitely *not* a moment of Zen for those who are taking antidepressants: http://blog.wired.com/wiredscience/2009/02/antidepressants.html

“Antidepressant drugs, already known to cause sexual side effects, may also suppress the basic human emotions of love and romance.”

Now, when it comes to treating depression versus not feeling sparky with someone, it’s an obvious choice which one is more important; but it’s something to keep in mind, especially when you’re taking an SSRI and dating. And not feeling any spark.

Hmmm …

I subscribe to The Week in print, which is where most of this came from – it’s a great condensed version of the week’s national and international press in one spot: http://www.theweek.com

For the condensed version of the alternative press, check out the Utne Reader: http://www.utne.com

I love both of these magazines, but I’m totally partial to reading the print versions. I just really like to kick it old school with reading – I want to hold the book or magazine or newspaper in my hands and be able to underline stuff or take notes or tear out pages. I really can’t get into viewing stuff online as a preferred way of reading. I’m not alone, am I? Does anyone else still prefer the old way, or has everyone except me made the switch to online reading?
.

Oh someone put a stake in me!

.
Man, I am not getting enough sleep and at day’s end I am totally wiped (physically) yet motivated (mentally) to get stuff done. I’m so looking forward to a few sleeping in mornings this weekend!

Bean had a rough day yesterday. She’s so damn overtired, but couldn’t get a nap in the morning, so there was all kinds of badness sprinkled thru my day. Her being overtired and ornery + me being overtired and cranky = me just wanting to go into my room, turn up some loud music and pretend I live alone. Or have someone stake me.

We were joined in the a.m. by a UT photojournalism student, who is working on a piece on divorced families. She had already spent a couple hours at Dave’s last weekend getting shots of he and the girls, and wanted to spend a couple hours here when the girls were with me. Her project is only for her professor’s eyes, so my original concerns about being overexposed were put to rest. She asked me a bit about the divorce and about post-divorce life, and I’m really curious as to how I came across.

(As an aside, if any local divorced moms/dads are interested in allowing her to photograph you and your kids, please, let me know. So far Dave and I are the only people she’s been able to talk to and she asked that I let people know what she’s doing and that she’s looking to interview and photograph others. I asked her to send me a blurb that I could pass along to anyone who might be interested, so if you want to email me (it’s in my profile), I can pass the blurb along to you, as well as her contact info.)

Anyways, the girl was here for about 2.5 hours, and boy did she get and eye- and ear-full of a day in the life of a divorced mom at home with her girls O dumped a whole bag of rice krispies on the playroom floor then she and Bean did a whole sensory experiment, alternating faces, hands and bare feet as they smashed and ate krispies. Sigh. Bean ran around like the “it’s all about me!” crazy person that she can be, but did sit on my lap for a few stories.

Then we went outside, where O ate dirt and Bean showed off the listening skills of a 3-year-old.

At the end, Bean wanted to help the girl take her stuff out to the car, but when I asked her to just wait a minute until everything was packed up, she flipped. I walked her to her room as she called me stupid and, of course, indian. When I picked her up because she wasn’t going, she started kicking and screaming. It kept escalating until I finally said “you’re not helping, and you’re staying in your room.” I walked out and closed the door, and she serenaded us with her CPS-worthy screams and “I want someone to hold me!” pleas.

At this point, the girl asked if this was a pretty typical day, and I said yeah, pretty much. There’s always a freak out (or 27), there’s always tears, there’s always meltdowns, there’s always chaos. But, I continued, it’s usually pretty easy to handle in a positive way because I know that Bean will calm down, and when she does, she’ll respond to reason and to requests. I know she really does just need someone to hold her, help her find her happy place and just give her the attention she needs. I just refuse to do any of that when she’s acting like a total turd.

Sure enough, before the girl left, Bean had mellowed considerably (it’s tiring kicking your door and screaming at the top of your lungs, apparently), gave me a hug and came out of her room. She wanted nothing more to do with anything except me and I got some lunch and quiet time in her before we had to leave for physical therapy. And the rest of the day was pretty smooth, especially when compared the the pre-lunch freakout.

Mommy: You’re such a sweet girl.
Bean: I’m not always a sweet girl.
Mommy: No, but you know what? Even when you’re not, even when I’m angry with you for making bad choices, I still love you and you’re still my best buddy.
Bean: Really?
Mommy: Really.

She’s such a bipolar experience sometimes.

Miss O’s VCUG is this afternoon at 2:00. Think good thoughts for her, ‘kay?
.

Big news!

.
Not really. Just kind of mocking myself for blogging about minutiae

(Oh, and I’m fine Kel, just busy But thanks for checking on me!)

Check me out – slacker deluxe! Four days without an update. That would actually be criminal if there was anything going on in my life, but as I’m the center of boredom, not such a big deal.

I’ve been busy doing the online job hunt, procrastinating on replying to eHarmony stuff and just trying to keep my head above water with the girls. Bean’s school was closed Monday, so the only day off I’ve had this week was Wednesday. Bean’s been a bit of a terror these past few days, so wish me luck as I face down the next 6 days – Dave’s going to be out of town, and the folks are still on their first big RV trip, which means it’s just me, myself and I. And the girls.

The girls are both feeling better, tho Miss O has some diarrhea going on. Not sure if it’s a version of the tummy thing Bean had, teething-related or a combo of the two, but she’s had some seriously icky diapers in the past few days. And to give you an idea of her “ick” tolerance – I was nursing her around midnight Wednesday night and heard her poop. I figured I’d let her finish and then change her, but she was almost asleep within 5 – 10 minutes or so. I got her up anyways and her back was wet. The stuff was all the way up her back, had soaked thru her onesie and saturated her crib sheet and she wasn’t the least bit concerned. Ewww.

While I was typing this, Bean wanted to stay in here with me, so I told her to sit at her table with a book, meaning one of her books. Instead, she picked up “The Poisonwood Bible” and told me:

This book says people are strong. Because they have to be strong. Because they have to kick a twenty-year-old soccer ball. Or a million-year-old soccer ball. They’re gonna be huge soccer balls! And when it was huge, suddenly a Bean came in and kicked the soccer ball right up in the sky. I kicked it right up in the sky. It stayed there forever. And I didn’t let anybody play because the soccer ball stayed up there. Then what happened was a mysterious beauteous plan of all.

Okay then.

I’ve got to get her transitioned over to the next level class at school, but she does *not* want to go, even though most of her friends are over there. She says “It’s not a nice place” … I could kick that teacher in the shins for making Bean feel this way. I don’t think the teacher intends to make kids think she’s mean, but she’s a bit of a hard-nose, and ever since Bean got the take-home message that “I can’t go to Manta Ray because I’m a baby. I have to stay in Clownfish.” from that teacher, she is convinced that teacher is mean. That’s not exactly the way it went down, but, like her distillation of “If I don’t poop, I’ll get cut open“, the whole story is less important than what she takes from the story.

And in a “what are the odds” type moment …

When we were renting a house in Pflugerville, there was a smell in the air that only I could smell. It was distracting, gave me a headache and irritated my eyes and throat. After a couple days, Dave believed me and we called out a service tech – turned out there was a minor gas leak up in the attic by the air handler, and that’s what I was smelling. It wasn’t a classic gas smell, and it wasn’t a big deal type gas leak, but I just knew it was *something*.

I am smelling the same smell here. I sent in a repair request on my home warranty (I am totally renewing this thing when the first year is up!) to have an HVAC person come out. What are the odds of my having this experience again? Grrr …
.

All by myself

.
Ahhh … going on 24 child-free hours and I’m feeling … well, good. A bit confused, and a little “I miss them”, but it’s given me a chance to get a ton of stuff done and to take a long, hot bath at the end of the night.

Miss O apparently did great at Dave’s last night. His report this a.m. was that she slept form 7:00 p.m. – 7:30 a.m. after a struggle at bedtime. She woke up a couple times overnight, but went back to sleep quickly. Yay Miss O!

Yesterday night I tried to watch the suckfest that is “Sideways”. Kels, I know you love the movie, and because of that, I gave it over a half hour to make me give a damn, but I couldn’t do it. I hated the two guys, thought the writing/talking was lame and just wanted to kick both of them in the nuts. Maybe they redeem themselves in the end (tho anything short of a Thelma-and-Louise style drive off a cliff would fall short of redemption), but I just couldn’t find it in me to care enough to sit around and find out.

Now I’m going to get back to work. I’ve moved the girls out of my room and into Bean’s room. I plan to transition them to the room together, and figure I’ll be putting in a few weeks of sleeping in there with them. But I’m just so tired of sharing *my* room. I share my bathroom, my closet, my bed, my dresser, my space … Even if I end up spending a few months on the transition, the psychological victory of reclaiming my room will carry me.

The result of the shift, however, means I lost “Bean’s playroom”, which housed some of the less-than-Miss-O-friendly toys. So I’m having to rework the main playroom and move some stuff into the living room. It works, tho, since there’s a lot of dead air space in the living room. I have a huge pile of books and toys to sort through and re-allocate now. I see a Goodwill donation in the near future …
.

If I only had a brain …

.
It was too much to hope for, I guess, that I get two ‘sleeping in’ mornings in a row. Today began at 5:11. Since I have a 10:00 appointment, it’s probably for the best that she got up early. That way I know I can get in a good nap for her before I leave. But 6:00 would have worked, too …

I got Bean’s “Santa” gift assembled yesterday evening – it’s a cute little wooden kitchen. It’s a bit smaller than I thought it would be, but I know Bean and O will love it. For Miss O’s Santa gift, I hit one of the local resale shops and grabbed her a Gobble and Go Hippo push/ride toy, since she’s still not really interested in walking without something to push. They had these hippos at one of the local kiddie play places, and even at 3 years old, Bean loved it, so I know they’ll both get some mileage out of it. And for $12, you really can’t go wrong

I can’t believe it’s the 22nd already. What’s really hard to believe is that the cards I bought to send out are still sitting here, pristine and unwrapped. As is the pack of paper for my year-in-review letter. Missing completely are the pictures I planned to print of the girls to include in the cards.

In what was perhaps an act of unconscious foresight, I selected cards that do not say anything about any particular day, so they’ll be just as appropriate as after Christmas or near New Years (or, perhaps, after New Years) cards as they would have been for on-time Christmas cards. Can I play the scatterbrained and overworked single mom card here? Please?

I totally forgot about some gifts I need to buy, and discovered last night that the tub of what I thought was wrapping paper and supplies was actually bows on top, Christmas lights on the bottom. I guess the wrapping supply tub is still at Dave’s, so I need to get some paper and bags, too. Apparently Miss O and I will be hitting Target after her second nap.
.