They’re coming to take me away, haha hehe…

It’s late and I’m still up because of insomnia.

I was watching a few minutes of The Sixth Sense earlier and the ‘dead but doesn’t know it’ Bruce Willis was talking about free association writing. Just writing whatever comes to mind. I thought I would give it a try for this post.

I’m so damn tired and I wish I could go to sleep. I’m watching Revolutionary Road. Rose and Jack just had a huge fight after Molly brought her crazy but ‘the truth hurts’ son over to their house.

I think I have a girl crush on Kate Winslet.

Not long ago I had a peanut butter and blueberry jam sandwich while I read Cujo. I had insomnia before reading a few chapters of that book but now I really can’t sleep. I know I shouldn’t read that kind of thing at night but it’s the only time I have to read. Otherwise I would wilt and die from not reading.

That reminds me of the movie Zoolander. “At the Derek Zoolander Center For Children Who Can’t Read Good And Wanna Learn To Do Other Stuff Good Too, we teach you that there’s more to life than being really, really ridiculously good-looking”.

Oops, hold on. *Shouts* (only in my mind, since I don’t want to wake up the little hummingbird and the hubby) *Don’t do it Rose! You’re going to die dammit*

And she’s dead.

The cough medicine I’ve been taking has a really awful aftertaste.

We went grocery shopping at Trader Joe’s today. There is a hot guy that works there. He’s really tall and has dark hair. He wasn’t working the register today but he was stocking shelves. When he is on the register, I make sure to get in his check-out lane but I always tell my hubby it’s because our little girl really likes him.

She actually does and he’s sweet to her (he’s expecting a boy with his girlfriend/wife) but the truth is I like being able to stand there and stare at his hotness.

The hubby and I really need to work on our Christmas cards tomorrow night. I guess technically it will be tonight.

But the Dexter season finale is on then. So we’ll do that on Monday.

I know I could easily just not publish this on my blog but I’m sure I will.

This wasn’t exactly free association writing since I left out some of the crazier things I was thinking about. Maybe next time….

Aaand now I think I’ll be able to go to bed. Finally!


If it’s not night-time when you’re reading this, just pretend it is.

*Update. Now with the song.

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You are the best! If you didn’t know that already, you do now.

When I started my blog I thought it would strictly be about my daughter. I was putting pictures of her on my blog almost weekly. Even though the name of my site is “This Is Mommyhood”, I felt the need to stop exposing her so much on my site.

*Sidenote. This just has to do with my comfort level. I read several blogs where the kids are the main focus and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that at all. I love seeing these kids growing up. :)

There’s a photo of her on my header and I know I’ll still put pics of her on my blog every now and then but I just felt the need to tame that a bit. I figure even though I’m not always writing about her, this is still mommyhood and I’m still a mama.

I’ve thought about quitting my blog many times since I think I’m awful at this but I know I would miss it too much. Also, my hubby hasn’t been that thrilled about me doing this. It’s not because of what I say in my posts. It’s the time I spend writing, time that’s taken away from him. I’m finally balancing that out with everything else though.

When I first thought of doing a blog, I tried to think of a name that didn’t just pertain to motherhood and was more neutral. I drew a blank and when it came time to type in a blog title, the name just popped into my head.

I still think about changing the name but I’m just too tired to think of a different name. Meaning: I’m too damn lazy.

The biggest reason I’ve kept going is you. Yes, you reading right now, even if it’s the first time reading my blog and you’re sitting there thinking this is the lamest post you’ve ever read.

 It amazes me that real people, as opposed to robots, squirrels, and cats, actually read what I write and I am so thankful for that.

There are countless blogs out there and I’m so grateful when people actually take the time to read mine. Even if you never read my blog again or better yet, if you do come back…Thank You!!

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A novel length glimpse of what happened during the Thanksgiving holiday with my in-laws. Alternate title: I wish I drank on the plane, at the hotel, and in their bathroom.

I’ve said before how my father-in-law goes into these very long conversations/monologues about things like how the ice machine in a refrigerator works. My favorite for almost 2 years was when he talked for nearly 90 minutes about satellite imaging.

He went on about whether or not it’s better to take the imaging at 45,000 feet or 60,000 feet and, well, that’s all I remember since I pretty much went into a coma. He finally topped himself during the holiday. I somehow managed to end up down on his side of the table with my hubby and daughter during an early holiday dinner while my mother-in-law and the rest of the family was at the other end.

I was already zoning out while he was talking, possibly drooling as well, when he started talking about how to make cement. He went on and on about making cement, what’s in it, and the purpose of each thing. And he’s not even in construction, he’s a mathematician! *bangs head against spike*

My mother-in-law stuck her nose into everything and was her usual unpleasant self. They had a car seat for our daughter so we didn’t have to bring ours. I kept on telling my hubby he needs to call them and make sure everyone is on the same page and they know what we need to borrow.

I know I could call them but I really, really don’t like to. For one, it can never be just a quick call. They both have to get on the phone when you call so obviously you have to talk to them both. A highlight from that was when I was talking to my MIL about maternity bras and breastfeeding while I was pregnant and my FIL was obviously embarrassed. Instead of just getting off of the phone, he stayed on. Not long after I could hear him snoring.

My hubby has called quite a few times to ask a quick question that his mom could easily answer but she will actually tell him he needs to call back since his dad isn’t home yet. They also take notes of everything you say and will even ask you to repeat and spell things so they write it correctly.

So I don’t call them since they are cuckoo for cocoa puffs for those reasons. My hubs never did call them and I was worried because I wasn’t sure if they knew we needed the car seat. We were flying in late and my only priority was to get to the hotel so I could give my daughter dinner and put her to bed. Seemed simple enough.

We arrived at the airport, as one does when they are flying, and said our hello’s. Then my FIL asked about the car seat. My hubby said we were just going to use the one they have. That’s when the FIL said since he didn’t hear back from the hubs they didn’t bring it along. But not to worry, he can go back home and get it, then come back to the airport… which would take about 40 freaking minutes.

We were all exhausted and it was past my daughter’s dinner time. We would’ve had to go back through security to go to the airport food court and I know my MIL would want to come along with us so it would have been made into a long, nerve-wracking process.

My FIL was off to get the car seat. I don’t know what wife wouldn’t have been pissed off annoyed with her hubby because he didn’t make a call to his parents that could have saved us waiting 40 minutes so we could get our daughter fed and in bed.

To my surprise I never raised my voice or yelled at my hubby but just said to him “I told you to call your parents to let them know”. That was followed by a few playful slaps to his arm. His mom stuck her nose where it doesn’t belong, as usual, and turned what I said into a big fraking deal. In less than five minutes I was ready to get back on a plane home.

The MIL then took off with the little girl in her stroller and went over by the baggage claim. She leaned down to my daughter and was pointing at the baggage carousel and explaining what it was. I thought she would use simple toddler speak. The only way I could explain it to my daughter is that there’s luggage going around on the thingamajig.

When I got closer I heard her explaining it in great detail. She told her about the luggage handlers taking it off of the plane, what the baggage carousel was made of, and what made it go around.

That’s fine by me but really, my little girl is 19 months old and doesn’t have that kind of attention span. I’m sure she just heard luggage, wondered it she could put it in her mouth, and that’s it. The look my daughter had on her face was one of “help” and she was trying to escape her stroller. Not even exaggerating. I had to go over and save her. Finally my FIL came back it was way longer than 40 minutes and then another challenge came about.

We had already told them straight out that the little hummingbird needed to have dinner and then go to bed asap. They said that we had to drop them off at their house which added an extra 20 minutes. I blame my hubby though because I told him when he calls he should mention that they need to just come to the airport in separate cars. That way we could see them for a small bit of time and then head to the hotel.

When we’re very clear with them things still don’t sink in with them. While in the car for the drive back to their house, my FIL said that we can have dinner at their house and it wouldn’t take that long. Ha! My hubs didn’t say anything at first, he’s always like that with them and never corrects them, so I gave him some jabs and he told them for the tenth time that we really needed to pick something up on they way to the hotel.

My MIL then suggested we all pick something up and they go back to the hotel with us, then after dinner we could drive them back home. I thought my head would explode. Not just from the sinus infection I had but because they don’t ever seem to get it. They did this a few more times.

I couldn’t help it so I groaned loudly and said “oh, my sinuses are killing me”. Just replace sinuses with in-laws. This was just in the first hour or so of being with them. My poor daughter, whose bedtime is around 7:30 pm, didn’t get to bed until 11pm.

I had two more days with the in-laws that were much more frustrating. Plus my brother-in-law, who is not my hubby’s brother, thank gawd, was even douchey-er than usual. He was awful to his kids. He didn’t yell at them but he was so stern with them, like a dictator. If they even sat there quietly, he would find something wrong with that.

For some reason he thinks he’s some great photographer just because he has a fancy camera. While taking a family photo, he took it way too seriously and was getting lights out of the garage and setting them up in the living room so the lighting for the photo would be perfect, he rearranged the furniture, had my sister-in-law and their son do several test shots, etc. He even got my FIL to sweep the hardwood floor. It couldn’t just be a quick and cute family photo.

My niece, 5, and nephew, 7, wanted to have fun during it and I thought he was going to rip their heads off. He kept on critiquing us after each photo and was being such an asshole.

My mother-in-law, sister-in-law, and I were standing behind the guys, who were seated in front. I was standing behind my hubby and right after my brother-in-law was douchey to his kids and scolded them because they were gasp laughing, I gave my hubby rabbit ears for a few photos. I’m sure the douche du jour was thrilled when seeing those photos.

After the torturous photos, he went to download them on the computer. When he came out, my hubs asked how they were. My BIL told us we don’t want to see them now. We should wait until he uses some much-needed photoshop. Douche.

My hubby got a bottle of vodka that we took along but we kept on forgetting it. If we remembered it, I would have loved to shove that bottle up my BIL’s ass. Don’t worry, it was cheap vodka. I wouldn’t waste the good stuff on him. Fast forward to the day we were leaving.

My FIL was talking about their (mother-in-law and him) traveling plans for the near future. He mentioned that they’re going to somebody’s wedding in San Diego and then he said they’re coming to visit us in Northern Cali for our daughter’s second birthday. Both my hubby and I looked at each other like wha?

Just to be clear, I don’t have any problem with them coming for their grandchild’s birthday. Okay, I do but I would never deny them time with my daughter and their son. But we haven’t even thought that far ahead AND we haven’t even invited them. They make me so crazy and I don’t want to have to deal with them on every birthday my daughter has.

Although I hadn’t thought much about her birthday yet because, sniff, my baby is turning 2, in 4 months, I did plan on it just being the three of us. I want to be happy on her birthdays, not think of every one with a sense of dread.

They were there for her 1st birthday and try as I might, all I can really think about is my MIL picking at me. Not only that, she was visiting us 2 weeks prior (for a looong twelve days) and it was such a disaster. So for the little hummingbird’s 1st birthday I was in meltdown mode by having my MIL there.

That’s another thing. They visit us 3 or 4 times a year and before I can recover from their last visit, they’re back. I just think when it comes to these things you should wait to be invited because that’s the polite thing to do.

I will now go crawl into bed, get into a fetal position, and whimper myself to sleep.

I’d really like to know how you would handle the birthday situation. Would you just stock up on vodka or would you be honest and let them know that you’re just planning the birthday to be the three of you, but they’re welcome coughcough anytime besides that?

I’m for the latter, my hubby is for the former, and my mom thought I should ask you. ;)

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If I was thinner, everything would be perfect?

If I was thinner…

I could fit into the jeans I haven’t worn since I was 27. I could wear whatever I wanted and it would look perfect. I could eat whatever I wanted and not gain weight. I would never have to think about calories again.

If I was thinner I would still worry about my weight, even more so than now. I couldn’t eat whatever I wanted since I have to worry about staying so thin. I would still think I was fat and become obsessed with calories.

If I was prettier…

Nothing would ever be wrong. I would always be confident and never get embarrassed. My younger self would take hold and I would love being able to get my way.

If I was prettier I wouldn’t like all of the attention. I would still get embarrassed because that’s just part of life. There will always be someone who is prettier.

If my hair was long and straight…

I wouldn’t have to worry about having to flat-iron my wavy hair every day. It would always be shiny and beautiful. I could do all kinds of things with my hair that I can’t do now since it’s only just passed my shoulders.

If my hair was long and straight I would want wavy hair.

If I was a perfect wife…

I would always have dinner on the table. I wouldn’t yell at my husband when he was being a pain in the ass. I would never be absorbed in my own issues. I would cater to all of his needs and forget mine.

If I was the perfect wife he probably wouldn’t have wanted to marry me. He loves me and my quirks.

If I was the greatest mom that ever lived…

 I would never be tired. I wouldn’t get annoyed when my daughter was cranky and count down the time when my husband will be home from work. I would know the right things to do. She wouldn’t get frustrated and throw tantrums. I would never make mistakes. I wouldn’t raise my voice when she gets into trouble.

She would never want to leave my side and I would never want to leave hers. Even if she doesn’t know the words to say, I would ALWAYS know what she wants.

If I was the greatest mom that ever lived she would still throw tantrums and be cranky. I would still have to raise my voice and teach her discipline to show her right from wrong and to keep her out of danger. I would still need some time for myself because that’s what helps me be a better mom.

If I was thinner, prettier, had long, straight hair, was the perfect wife, and was the greatest mom that ever lived, that would be pretty damn boring.

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When I First Got Married I Thought Couples Who Had Seperate Bedrooms Were Crazy. Several Years Later, I Think It’s The Best Idea Ever!

*I wrote this the first week I started my blog. I’m sure a lot of what I wrote back then didn’t get read just like now so 6 months later I’ve decided to repost it because I’m still really sick and it’s been hard to focus on writing when I’m coughing up my internal organs. You can also catch me over at Jayne’s blog Mum’s the Word where I have the privilege of being a guest blogger.

Time: 10 pm-ish

Place: Bedroom


My hubby likes to lie in bed and have quiet time. He’ll read his Mother Jones or Popular Science magazine with our cat laying on his chest. I’ll be watching Friends and occasionally the hubby will point something out in his magazine.

I’ll nod, pretend I’m paying attention, and say something like “uh huh” or “oh cool”. After awhile he’ll put down his magazine, give the cat a few treats that she’ll puke up later, and turn off the light. Now this is where the fun starts.

Within ten minutes he’s snoring….loudly. Then he’ll start grinding his teeth. Ree Ree Ree Ree.

He hurt his leg awhile ago which can cause twitchy spasms. Maybe it’s because I keep my toenails so short but I think his toenails can rival Freddy Krueger. So his twitchy leg spasms trigger his Freddy Krueger toenails and he starts scratching the shit out of the sheets. Riiip Riiip Riiip.

Oh, did I mention that he likes to hang his feet over the end of the bed. So let’s recap.

He’s snoring away like a bear. Teeth grinding. Ree Ree Ree Ree. Leg twitching all over the place. Toenails slashing away at the sheets Riiip Riiip Riiip. And his feet are constantly pulling the covers down while I continually grab at them and pull up, grab and pull up.

I’m usually not asleep at this point, I mean how would that even be possible? By this time I’m reading US Weekly or watching Chelsea Handler. Every now and then I punch him in the arm or jab his twitchy leg with my foot lightly tap him to stop his snoring.

A few hours later I’ll still be wide awake, reading or on the computer. His snoring will be so loud that it will usually wake him up. He’ll look at the clock and see how late it is. Then he’ll tell me he can’t sleep and that I’m keeping him up. He’s lucky that I love him so much.

*Sick stats – The little hummingbird – The snot machine that was her nose has finally shut down. Yay! Me –  I’m slowly getting better but still have a bad cough. My lungs are being funky so my dr. put me on a nebulizer that I haven’t gotten yet.

The Hubby – He has the flu but I think he’s downplaying how he feels. Or maybe I just bitch and whine about being sick more than I thought. Yeah, that’s probably it.  :^)

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Guest Blogger: Jayne From Mum’s The Word. To Breastfeed Or Not To Breastfeed, That Is The Question.

*I’m still sick so Jayne from Mum’s the Word offered to guest post for me. I am so grateful to her for doing this and would give her big hugs if I could.

But then I might get her sick and she wouldn’t be able to write on her amazing blog and that would just suck. So I will say thank you so much for helping me out and send virtual hugs her way. And one big virtual kiss that has been sanitized through cyberspace. Mwah!

I like that her post gives another side to breastfeeding. It’s one that not everyone might agree with but I love that she’s so honest when it comes to sharing her thoughts about it. Again, thank you Jayne.

Reading through Elle’s blog, I find it astonishing how many experiences we’ve shared, despite never having met. We both have daughters who ended up in the NICU, unable to regulate their blood sugars, we both went through the wrenching agony of leaving our babies in the hospital and going home empty handed and we both were unable to breastfeed.

However, while Elle suffered the trials of trying to get her baby to latch on, I knew right from the beginning of my pregnancy that I would not breastfeed my baby, and it’s only here, on a relative stranger’s blog, that I feel I’m able to be honest about it.

When we discovered I was pregnant, I was hit with the usual barrage of questions from family, friends and healthcare professionals; would I prefer a girl or a boy? Would we be going for a natural birth? Did we have any names in mind? The one question which came up every time was “will you be breastfeeding?” and for a while, I would answer as honestly as possible and say I hadn’t decided.

But the more I thought about it, the more the thought (and I don’t say this lightly) repulsed me. Now, if you don’t read my blog, you won’t know me. But let me assure you, I’m not one of these too-posh-to-push-pass-my-kid-off-to-a-nanny types. I have spent almost every second of every day since my daughter was born caring for her, I’ve never spent more than a couple of hours away from her, she shares my bed and often my dinner, I do all the stuff that mums do and more. But not breastfeeding.

I wish it wasn’t this way, and I’ve never been able to sufficiently explain why I have such a strong aversion to it. I know it’s better for her, I know it’s a beautiful bonding experience. I have no problem with others doing it and happily sit with my best friend while she feeds her son. I just can’t bring myself to do it. And it’s like a guilty secret, hanging over my head.

The only explanation I can come up with is that I have a love/hate relationship with my breasts. I developed ridiculously early and ever since, they’ve been a burden, a weight on my shoulders, if you’ll pardon the pun.

When Sausage was born and rushed off to the NICU, I was still unconscious from the C-Section, so by the time I came around they’d already put her on formula, and then my breast milk just never showed up, which I can only assume was a side effect from being unable to hold my baby.

But since then, when people have asked why I didn’t breastfeed, I always omit the part about the conscious decision not to, and skip straight to the part where I say I couldn’t. I have to say, I kind of resent the fact that I have to do this, in order to escape judgement from the Mummy Mafia. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? There are those out there who are so quick to judge.

I don’t know, maybe I deserve to be judged, I know in some ways I judge myself. But I also know, my daughter is healthy, happy and wonderfully bright. And isn’t that all that matters? Shouldn’t us mums try and stick together? I know I’ll be reserving judgement next time someone tells me that they do things a bit differently.

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When Search Engine Terms Attack.

*Sick stats: The little hummingbird – Better but still a snot machine. Me- Blech but my dr. put me on a different cough medicine that seems to help AND I haven’t puked in 2 days. Hubby – He has the flu now.

Since I started my blog back in July I’ve had several wha?? moments when it comes to search engine terms people use to find my blog. One of them really had me baffled.

I can’t write it because of the obvious reasons (people will find my blog with those terms – that explanation is for my mom in case anyone is wondering ;)) so lets play blog charades. Woohoo!

I’ll give you the first word since it’s harmless, male. Second word rhythms with beast but it’s an ingredient in bread. Third word is ummm….hmmmm. It’s not bad but I suck at charades so I’ll just say it goes with the second word and can be itchy.

Someone kept on coming to my site by using that search engine term and it had me cracking up and scratching my…head. Hardy har har. I’ve never said any of those words in my posts so I have no idea how it lead them to my blog.

Recently I did a post and showed off my awesome drawing skills about a Christmas star stuck up my MIL’s butt. To my horror, and let’s be honest to my delight since I needed a laugh over the holiday, someone found my blog by using the term “images of Christmas star” and they saw this.

I instantly pictured some sweet grandma type or a mom sitting around the computer with her kids seeing my bad drawing of a star up the bum of my MIL. Lovely.

I tried to make myself feel better by thinking maybe it was someone who erm, thinks that kind of thing is funny? Maybe? Sorta? It’s unlikely but I rather go with that than think I may have scarred some kids for life by having them see a  Christmas star that they’ll never look at in the same way.

Then again I know there’s much worse they can see than some badly drawn picture of a traumatized star sticking out of my MIL’s bum. Maybe?

*If you haven’t read it already, this post from Anne Nahm is a must see. She’s hilarious and Baby J is spicier this season. ;)

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