Breaking Dawn Ends Twilight

I read Breaking Dawn yesterday in under 10 hours. I had a great time with it. I actually liked this one completely AND yes it makes the entire series worth reading.

I can't believe they're making these into movies though. CHEESEVILLE!!!!!

I don't want to give an in-depth review because it's only been 9 days since the book came out but yes they're fun, cheesy, and super light reads. Just be sure you read ALL FOUR. Don't just read Twilight for the love of god.


Just thought it was worth mentioning I actually used my patterned paper today. I am in a desperate frenzy to get the garage kid-friendly before I go back to work (August 21st). This meant eliminating my computer desk and so now I am down to a small desk with hutch and a side set of drawers plus a nook under the stairs that perfectly accomodates 4 large rubbermaid bins. So one thing I did was take the scrapbooks down from one of the shelves on the hutch. I put the ones that have stuff in the shelf in the living room since no one would even know they existed in the garage, I put the empty ones in the garage sale pile (Saturday at my MIL's), and that's when I came across it. My EMPTY black leather Close to My Heart album that I had purchased years ago with one intention- my wedding album. And there was the box of 8 x 10's. I grabbed the photos, the album, and my box of paper. Yes, you read that correctly. Two years ago I did major destashing when we were packing up to move here and I consolidated all of my paper into one of those 12 x 12 boxes you could find at Joann's. 
I had always wanted the album to be simple, just the photos mounted on paper. So the first thing I did was pull out the solid cardstock and matched a photo to each one. But it looked dull and I figured if I had wanted it mounted on solid paper, I should have just bought the damn thing from the photographer. I wanted it to be unique so I put away the colored cardstock and went through the patterned papers. Wow I forgot how pretty paper is. So many different patterns and colors. It felt like I was dressing up the photos. Like what outfit does this one want to wear? Anyways, I finished it. And it probably took me about half an hour start to finish. It's simple but cute. I can always go back and add embellishments here and there. But for now, it works just fine and I still have another box of a couple hundred 4 x 6's that I can get more intensive with if I so choose.
I'm also sad because I found the gorgeous scrapbook I had received for Daughter. I kept that one. I am determined all three kids will have a scrapbook even if it's done for their 18th birthdays. I technically haven't finished Eldest's but Eldest has a lot of layouts. The idea was that each child have an album from birth to the first year. Everything else would be family layouts. Anyways, patterned paper is pretty.

As for my other point of SHAME, I haven't finished the sweater for Baby. But I'm also concerned he won't be able to wear it even if I finish. It's 3-6 months but he's already wearing that size and he just turned 2 months on the 4th. It won't really cool until MAYBE end of October. 
I am also supposed to cast on tonight for the Knitting Olympics. Too much stuff to do before going back to work. TOO MUCH. 

By the by, have you played with Amazon's new feature that lets you create a universal wish list? Too fun! 

P.S. Italian soccer players are HOT. I love the Olympics.


I love the song of this in Baz Luhrman's Romeo + Juliet. I italicized my favorite tidbits. Every time I hear this song a new lyric rings especially true to me. Today it's this one:

Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives, some of the most interesting 40 year olds I know still don't.

Everybody's Free
(to wear sunscreen)
Mary Schmich
Chicago Tribune

Ladies and Gentlemen of the class of '97... wear sunscreen.

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be IT.

The long term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience.

I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they have faded. But trust me, in 20 years you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked.

You are NOT as fat as you imagine.

Don't worry about the future; or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubblegum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing every day that scares you.


Don't be reckless with other people's hearts, don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.


Don't waste your time on jealousy; sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. The race is long, and in the end, it's only with yourself.

Remember compliments you receive, forget the insults; if you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

Keep your old love letters, throw away your old bank statements.


Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives, some of the most interesting 40 year olds I know still don't.

Get plenty of calcium.

Be kind to your knees, you'll miss them when they're gone.

Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't, maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't, maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much or berate yourself, either. Your choices are half chance, so are everybody else's. 

Enjoy your body, use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it, or what other people think of it, it's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.

Dance. Even if you have nowhere to do it but in your own living room.

Read the directions, even if you don't follow them.

Do NOT read beauty magazines, they will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents, you never know when they'll be gone for good.

Be nice to your siblings; they are your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go, but for the precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography in lifestyle because the older you get, the more you need the people you knew when you were young.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard; live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft.


Accept certain inalienable truths: prices will rise, politicians will philander, you too will get old, and when you do you'll fantasize that when you were young prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders.

Respect your elders.

Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund, maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse; but you never know when either one might run out.

Don't mess too much with your hair, or by the time you're 40, it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but, be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia, dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen.

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The Door Closer

 Today is turning out to be a very frustrating and stressful day for me for a very unusual reason: thinking. That's right, I am sitting here ready to vent and spew not because Baby keeps surprising me with exploding bowel movements or because first Daughter was home with a fever and now Eldest has followed suit. It is not because of the mess I ranted about yesterday or even the fact that I found out my short term disability checks are over instead of continuing on a reduced amount as I had been led to believe. I am sure that in one way or another those things are all responsible for today's very serious thinking but it really is the thinking that has me swaying in my seat (although Baby is adoring it), talking to my family, and tearing my nails. It's the thoughts that have me very wound up indeed. And the thoughts, as they often do, have a very innocent origin:

B** ******I (1:26:12 PM): my sis is adamant that u should be an attorney


I think that Dane Cook explained this phenomenom most excellently in his stand-up show Vicious Circle where he says, and I quote:

"...she's preparing to say a comment, okay, she's got a comment on tap that she's gonna say, and it's the tiniest, it’s just a tic-tac sized comment. But this is a fucking detonater. And she's gonna say it, and it's gonna go deep into your cerebellum, and it's gonna sit there and at some point-- three days later, 30 days later, it's going to explode, rotting you from within, I'm telling you now."

The Detonator Comment. Except in this case, it took all of 30 seconds to explode and it was not meant to harm as it was not in the context of a fight. 

Let me back up a moment to clarify a very important point. I am not sure I want to be an attorney nor have I recently been considering pursuing law as a profession. However, the reason this has become a Detonator Comment is because of my initial gut reaction to that comment. 

"Yeah, right."

And that is where things went very stressful up in that head of mine as I thought things out and talked things out with my husband, with my sister in law, with my brother, and with my mother. It was the conversation with my mother that got my thoughts deep below the manageable surface into those murky self-exploration waters.So please bear with me as I drag you in with me and explain to you a bit about myself as I try and work it all out. 

I am beginning to realize that I am a Door Closer. That I know of, this is not a proper term but it's the appropriate term. I close my own doors and I do it often-- sometimes softly and regretably, other times with such force that it leaves me shaken. I think the first time I closed my own door in a possibly life-altering way was during College Applications Senior year in High School. It is stupid of me to pretend that I am not book smart. I graduated from high school with a GPA lots of students would kill for without even trying. I graduated from College with another great GPA and an academic award from my department even while being completely distracted by motherhood (I graduated from College in my ninth month of pregnancy with Daughter). I do very well on Standardized tests and I can write very well. I know these things, but it doesn't stop me from stopping myself. 

I knew very much what I wanted to do after high school-- study Journalism and/or Theater in New York, either at NYU or Syracuse. Working on my high school newspaper and being Editor-in-Chief are right up there as my fondest memories in high school next to directing and performing in school plays. However, when it came time to send off my applications, I capsized. I played off my parents' very reasonable concerns about the expense of what I wanted to do and convinced myself not only that I would definitely not get any types of scholarships at either school but that I would probably have a very hard time even getting in. I didn't even try. I threw away the application kits and applied to one school-- Florida International University (the safe bet). I had so convinced myself of how average I was, I did not even apply at the University of Miami. I am quite sure that is one of my biggest regrets (despite the fact that I understand had I not embarked on the life I settled on, I would likely not have met Jay and would probably be living in a completely different can of worms). I really did a number on myself, convincing myself so deeply that I was average that I was shocked when FIU offered me a full paid scholarship of their own (in addition to one the State of Florida offered) and placed me in the Honors College. 

Unfortunately, it seems that I have not learned my lesson. Over and over again I dismiss all kinds of possibilities as being beyond my reach or abilities. I have completely shelved the idea of making any money doing something I love (like reading and/or writing). I have convinced myself that I am never going to make $100K (unless adjusted for the price of inflation that becomes an "average" salary) and that I will never be my own boss. 

The problem is, I am not happy with any of those convictions. I. Want. More. And for once in my life, I am perhaps coming to terms with the fact that to want more is not greedy or selfish when it comes to moving yourself forward. I am not looking to stab people in the back or overthrow deserving people in a quest for more money. I just want to do better for myself. I feel like I am wasting myself and in doing so I am letting down a lot of people, including my Future Self just like I am so disappointed in that High School me who gave up before even filling out the stupid application.

So I am going to do right by that girl. That forceful girl who until that point never settled. She did whatever the hell she wanted consequences be damned. I have made a few decisions that I hope will help me shape out my life because I am very unsettled by the future I see in my mental crystal ball (the only kind of crystal ball available these days). Or maybe it is better to say the future I do not see. 

I am going to take the LSAT in December-- to test the waters. I am going to see what it is like to study with three children around and while working full-time. I am going to see what the big scary deal is with the LSAT experience. And I am going to see if I do well enough that I could possibly get into a law school if I were to apply to one. I am not saying that I have decided to study law. I am not saying that I have decided to get into a particular law school. All I am saying is that I am going to take the LSAT in December. For some deep psychological reason I don't care to guess at writing and reading that terrifies me and makes me want to just run back and delete that sentence and slam that door shut. But I'm gritting my teeth and going ahead with it. LSAT. December.

The other part of this is that I am going to create another blog. It will be the blog I use to post more complete entries than is the norm here. Instead of a daily ramble, I am going to aim at weekly posts. They will be my chance to practice writing well again. They will be researched posts. I don't know that I will have a theme, although it could be possible that one evolves. I don't have it set up yet. I don't know where it will be and I am toying with names. Lavanotes is an ancient name of mine that seems to be tied to personal writing as it was the name I used in DiaryLand and has carried over to here. It's going to be a decision I think about and research lke the entries that will go in there. I do not want to lose the writer in me. I know that I am meant to write all of my life and possibly one day write something strong enough to make a name for myself.

I need to believe in myself the way that my family does. They all seem to know that I am meant to do bigger and better things in my life. I really want to believe that too even though it means a lot of responsibility and truly hard work-- two things that I have always been terrified of. I need to embrace myself for what I really am and I think that may be a Juggernaut. 

"There's a time when a man needs to fight and a time when he needs to accept that his destiny's lost, the ship has sailed and that only a fool will continue. The truth is I've always been a fool." - Big Fish 

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Last night I stayed up late and finally went up when Baby started calling at around 2:30. As soon as I got into the bed to nurse him I was exhausted and he wasn't. Thankfully he wasn't impossible just restless. Either way, I was awake soothing him in the bed for a few hours. And then I found myself ripped from a nice sleep by Daughter pitching a hell of a fit. Somehow in that very cloudy haze of between sleep and awake, I figured out she was pitching the fit because J had woken her and was attempting to get her out of pajamas to go to daycare. My brain somehow rationalized that J would not be able to soothe the savage beast and that divine motherly intervention was needed immediately so that I could return to sleep. The brain resorts to desperate measures for instant gratification when sleep deprived. "DEJALA!" I yelled. This is Spanish for "leave her". The fact that I was yelling in Spanish was Clue One I was half out of my mind. Clue Two was the fact that I was yelling for J to leave her in my care instead of take her to preschool. I think my brain rationalized that surely if she got into my bed and off the changing table she would quit her fit AND if she quit her fit I would be able to go back to sleep. I think I then clarified my demand when J protested by half yelling something along the lines of "It's FINE just LEAVE her!" The funny thing was that it worked. She was put into my bed, we got our kisses goodbye from J who hauled ass out of there and silence settled. Now because I have a strict Never Look at Clocks When Sleep Deprived Policy, I don't know how long this lasted but I'm pretty sure it may have been about 30 to 45 minutes. I think she may have dozed off. 

And just as suddenly, she was awake. I think I tried using the TV as a way to more sleep time but she wasn't having it. She tried squirming out of bed and pitched a huge fit when I hauled her back in. I gave up on the whole sleep thing when she started aiming her Fit-Induced Kicks at Baby and managed to place one on his (thankfully) well-diapered butt despite my flailing protesting arms. And so I have been up since early this morning and have been just running around the house doing things. I did the dining room floors today but intensively which means moving furniture and toys around. I also yanked the curtains off the rod with the intention of washing them later because I saw some stain along the bottom of them. I cleaned and cleaned and picked up and threw away. I folded laundry and even put some away. I ran the dishwasher. I vacuumed. I mopped. And I promise that if you came over, you wouldn't believe any of it because this mess never ends. 

To add insult to injury,  (I think Daughter just fell out of her bed OR knocked a toy out to the floor... no crying = toy?) we convinced my sister in law to play with the Wii Fit only to find the disc is missing. Again. Last time, I had to order a replacement from Nintendo and to this day it has not resurfaced. Now this one is gone again with no explanation, just the empty replacement disc sleeve in the games drawer next to all of the other Wii games that apparently are too good to go missing. But MY game, my favorite awesome must-have game is gone-- again. I haven't reordered it and I doubt I will. At least not any time soon. It is just insanely frustrating to me. Yesterday I slaved in the living room, tired of the endless clutter and mess. I took everything out and dusted. I took all of the Kids' DVDs from their cases and put the discs in a binder and the cases in the trash. I sorted through 3 disc binders and 2 spindles of random discs and threw away a pile. I alphabetized the kids movies and the Grown Up movies. I rearranged the photo albums and the coffee table books and the collection of vinyl toys that once seemed overwhelming and disastrous but now seems fun and chic and surprising. So the entertainment center and the bookcase next to it look gorgeous except you won't even notice that if you came to my house because you can't get past the rest of the disaster. You have to shove aside papers, diaper bags, clothes, etc to have a seat on the couch. Searching for the Wii Fit disc, I unearthed a ton of toys (children and dog) that are sitting on the red shag rug that never seems to STAY STILL. The Little Mermaid ride-on I had put away in the dining room area (because the garage is not yet ready to be a playroom) is by the front door. The console table is covered in crap. The hall to the guest bathroom should be navigated like a mine field. Daughter pulled a bucket of her clothes down the stairs and left them on the steps as she hid there instead of sleeping in her bed. Mess. Everywhere. 

Kitchen Counter? Clutter.
Bar top? Clutter. 
Dining Table? Clutter.
Bar Stools? Clutter.

I'm going to go and take my anger out on a fresh load of laundry. I have a giant empty box from my last shipment. I am thinking of dragging it out of the garage and into the (cluttered) living room and proceed to fill it. I realize one very important thing and that is this: If I stand any chance at all at getting things under control in just the first floor of the house, I need to get the garage converted, end of story. To get the garage converted, I need to empty it out as best as I can. It's time to be ruthless. 

Old Fashioned

These blog entries have a way of just steering themselves the way they want to go don't they?

Before I dive in, I'd like to inform my fellow concerned knitters that I am smoothly sailing along Sleeve One on the kimono. And it was going so nicely, I of course stopped. It is my curse.

What I was going to write about was my daughter who turned two a month ago and who really deserves a good long post dedicated solely to her because she is simply that kind of girl. So that's what I was going to do but as I settled in I remembered the flowers I'd bought at CVS on an impulse while buying my 3 for $10 12 packs of Coke (my new postpartum curse). I couldn't let the three bunches just sit there without water because I just knew that by the time I'd finished posting the entry about Daughter, and got up to get those flowers into water Baby would surely be calling. So I went and played with my flowers. I bought a dozen white roses, a simple clutch of yellow daisies, and a rambunctious bunch of colorful mixed flowers. I am not an expert flower arranger. Strike that. I am not even a beginner flower arranger. I know to do the following things with a bunch of flowers:

1. Cut off rubberbands or string holding flowers together. 
2. Cut off about an inch or two from the stem at an angle.
3. Remove any leaves that would be submerged in the water in the vase.
4. Place flowers into a vase with cold water.
5. Place vase on surface and smile.

So that's what I did. With the last bunch of mixed flowers, I did have to work on placing the flowers because when I dumped the bunch into the vase, they all went their separate ways against the vase and left a big gap in the center. They look better now that I creatively jammed the stems in and out of each other. 

So anyways, the point of all of this is that I love flowers. And flowers, like a million things in my life, often get shoved down the list of must-haves. It really shouldn't be that way. I blame the British for this whole flower fix I'm into today. Specifically the British ladies on How Clean is Your House? which is a really yucky show but filled with good stuff. Today I learned how to get the burnt off my pans for instance (and how to convince myself we need MORE Coke in the house not less). I also noticed that when they turned the house over to the formerly disgusting tenant, they had placed fresh flowers everywhere. I think that I noticed this because of Design Star (are we seeing the giant twisted loops my brain works in?). I really like the show and think it has a lot of potential although I'm not really struck by the contestants. But back to flowers! Not this past Sunday because I haven't seen it yet, but the Sunday before that with the Country music singer whose name I forget, they had to design a hotel suite in her style. So they went to her home and interviewed her and went back and designed things.One of the things she mentioned was fresh flowers and sure enough there were flowers in the hotel suite and they were all over her home too. 

Is it really too big a deal to buy fresh flowers every week? Forget three bunches like I did today, just one bunch of flowers a week. Better yet, can my husband get this one? There is a lot to be said for a man that brings his wife flowers every week. Especially when they are different flowers and not even the same day every week. In other words, especially if he manages to not turn it into a chore. I know that us modern women are supposed to roll our eyes at this kind of notion. But, why? Most of us, I imagine, did not grow up in a house where fresh flowers were a staple in the house. Dad didn't bring home flowers every week. I will give my Dad credit though; he brought home flowers often, just not every week. When exactly did flowers turn into a Special Occasions Only item? And why are they stupid? People argue they die. Well yeah they die, and you eat food, right? You drink beverages that are not purely for hydrating purposes, yes? And you smokers don't even make a peep! You can't get more fleeting than buying a pack of cigarrettes! 

Really, I think a very old proper lady has moved into my body. Maybe even the ghost of a very old proper lady who died 50 years ago. Here I am enjoying the art of letters and wondering why we just abandoned it so easily. Letters are Special Occasion Only items too! I'm wondering how it is that I only have about six dresses but maybe twelve pairs of pants. And now I am taken with flowers. I drink a cup of coffee every morning and feel so right sitting by the sliding glass doors enjoying the sunlight sneaking in past the curtains (that are there because my yard has been taken over by weeds on steroids which is very much NOT proper old lady). Why don't I have a martini every evening after dinner with my husband?

It's interesting because we like to refer to past years as "Simpler Times" when compared with our modern world they required much more work. You couldn't dash up an e-mail to your friend to see how she was doing since you hadn't heard from her in ages, you had to sit and write her a letter. Us ladies did not go to work, we stayed home struggling to clean a house without today's modern conveniences (like my new totally awesome vacuum cleaner for instance). And you had to do it without having the option to play a television show in the background to entertain yourself with. And your children were home if not of school age. 

I wonder what's with me. And I don't think I even qualify as your usual suspect for this kind of thinking. I love technology and gadgets and gizmos. I like being independent and working and making my own decisions. I hate cleaning even with my totally awesome modern conveniences. I don't thrift shop, I don't go antiquing, and I don't think I'll ever decorate anything in the Shabby Chic style (exception being Daughter's room IF she requested it). I guess I'm just strange, caught here and there. But flowers? I can definitely do the flowers thing. Now, how do I get my husband to play along? 

And you? What Simpler Times thing(s) do you enjoy or do you wish was more prevalent today?
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LOLing at myself

Oh my. I must look positively bizarre knitting. I taught myself from books a couple of years ago and I just don't feel like I ever nailed down the whole finesse of it all. Not to mention the fact without someone here physically to show me how to do things, I am hesitant to take up knitting challenges. It is that fear of knitting without a lifeguard if you will that has prevented me from even attempting a basic knitting in the round project. It's why I have never knit socks even though I have lots of great supplies to do so including needles for the magic loop method and a booklet detailing the process. In my defense, I did try it once and it was a great mess. This is tonight's topic of conversation in my brain because I've been working on the infamous Baby Kimono Sweater I cast on back in June. July 22nd will be the one month anniversary of that sweater-- the very one I swore to do in two weeks. 

Today has been a technique-filled knitting day. First up was joining a new ball of yarn so that I could finish the too easy back that I've been working on for an embarrasing amount of time. Ever since I heard of this magnificent method of weaving ends while knitting, I try and practice it every chance I get with this excellent tutorial. So today there was that. Then I suddenly found I had finished the back and it was time to attempt the THREE NEEDLE BIND OFF. Non Knitters, doesn't that SOUND dreadful? It did to me! And it was that dreadful the first go. More dreadful is the reason that yours truly is horrible at sewing, when I finished struggling with the THREE NEEDLE BIND OFF (of doom), I found I had attached the sides wrong (left side on the right side, right side on the left side) and I struggled very hard with a torrent of tears. I won. I ripped back my bind off (first time I've ever done that too), put the pieces the right away, and went at the THREE NEEDLE BIND OFF again and this time, it was cake! 

So with the back done and the front sides attached to it properly, it was time to move on to the sleeves. I was/am a little confused by the pattern notes and posted a question on Ravelry about it but in the mean time I decided to just try picking up stitches the way I thought the pattern asked and so with the help of an excellent video, I got to work. Now, I think I did over half the stitches the right way and then I think my brain may have collapsed onto itself because I totally screwed up as I neard the end and was picking up stitches not from the edge but from the knitted work and it created a hilariously awful seam. SO, I ripped that back too and decided instead of starting again I'd come here and babble about it. Not to mention my shoulders and back are ACHING. So right now I have a Baby Kimono Vest and it's quite cute if I may so myself. And that my friends is despite the fact that while knitting the stupid back I completely fazed out and purled on the Right Side and knit on the Wrong Side for a whole row. So I have a stripe of error running across the back of the sweater. I tell myself it looks intentional. I also tell myself babies spend 95% of their times on their backs so no one will see it end of story.

I also tell myself that I seriously need to pick up a bottle of Absolut Citron and become a habitual Cosmo drinker.

In other news, I need to stop perusing Ebay for clothes for Daughter. Today I won a lot of NWT Juicy Couture clothes for her. I also have a few Harajuku Lovers items going. For me,  I bought some gorgeous stitch markers from the excellent tutorial lady on Etsy. Speaking of Etsy, Elia is going live on the 18th and I am saving up for that as well. You can see previews of the items she will be selling right over here. Not only am I swooning over 90% of the magnet sets, Leia has me VERY intrigued as does the adorable owl (of course). I need to do some selling of my own and unload some more Cram Cream and Decole items. The thing is I am really pissed about E-bay fees and so I am trying to think how else to about it. If anyone has ideas, let me know!


Teenage crush time. *swoon*

He brings back fond memories of high school. And I've always had a thing for drummers. *le sigh*
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Holy crap, I feel like maybe I got way too drunk last night. Except I didn't have a sip of alcohol. I'm guessing it has to do with the simpler fact that I maybe got 4 hours of sleep and unlike my usual remedy of sleeping in until whenever, I have to be at my doctor's office at 9:30. After that I plan on going to my mom's house and I'm hoping to get a few hours of sleep there before I have to get up and take Baby to his doctor's appointment at 3:30. Oh thank God, the coffee is ready. 

Know what really irks me? I forced myself to stay up late thinking Baby would be his usual fussbucket. You see, I've tried going to sleep early thinking I'd be better getting some hours in early. Except he's so fussy at the same time every night that it makes a mess of my sleep and I still sleep in ultra late. So I stayed up and wouldn't you know he had a great night last night and slept like a log with only ony 15 minute fussy period. I'm so messed up, my throat hurts. Blegh. 

Add to all of this that my husband will be going out tonight to celebrate one of our friend's birthday. So whenever I make it home, I'll be alone with the three amigos. 

My house smells. 

Why did I get started on the house thing? My husband and I are at that phase in the postpartum home with infant who doesn't sleep good stage. You know, the bitchy snappy one. I was mean as hell to him yesterday. Snapping at him and just pissy overall and he was the same right back. I hate it when he criticizes me about the house. Um, hello you contribute to this disaster as much as I do. Last night I was less than pleased when he made some comment when I came to bed along the lines of "Hey you never cleaned our bathroom like you said you would." "I haven't yet" I corrected him and then made some bitchy comment about how he hasn't touched the laundry that's been folded in his basket over a week now. I'm surprised I didn't just bristle and hiss and spit at him while I was at it. Embarrassing. 

You know the list I made the other day? I've hardly touched it.  I am so freaking lame when I stay at home. I am so much more productive at work. Which reminds me, I think I am going to try and negotiate with my bosses to see if they will allow me to shift to a four ten hour work week when I return so I can have every Wednesday off. I am definitely doing it with my leftover vacation, but I would like to try and make it permanent. That would help in so many ways-- one less day of commuting, a break in the middle of the week, I think it might help me keep nursing since it wouldn't be 5 whole days in a row of mostly pumping. We'll see. Baby's calling.
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