Bastard blood

Sadly I am not allergic to any food.

While for some people this might be a wonderful thing to hear, for me? Not so great… I was totally expecting to find out that I had a wheat allergy too (just like V) and possibly some other hidden allergies lurking around in my system.

Bastard blood of mine!! I was expecting a lot out of you!

You were supposed to be the answer… I am looking for intel into V’s allergies. Any insight into the allergy situation would be awesome and currently I am focusing on me. As soon as I have made myself run the gamut, I’ll be putting M through his paces. Only fair!!

And so today I went through the intradermal allergy testing. Another interesting process. Small amounts of the allergen are injected just under the skin. In my case, 64 times. We then wait for everything to cook for 15 minutes and then measure the reaction on my skin.

Ding! 15 minutes later, we had our results. And they weren’t anything that exciting. Nothing earth-shattering or anything.

Funnily enough I am allergic to Maple tree pollen. And am Canadian. How disappointing. And so I now live in Florida and apparently am allergic to Orange tree pollen as well. What. The. Hell.

It make me kind of laugh though. From the land of the Maple tree to the land of the Orange tree, she is allergic to it all.

And allergic to dust-mites, a few other trees and 7 different types of mold. 7 for gods sake. Which, in hind sight, isn’t that surprising since I have a childhood allergy to penicillin that I apparently have passed on to V.

So while I didn’t learn that much about V’s particular food allergies and where they might have originated from, I did learn some interesting things about my own. Especially considering that I wasn’t aware of any of them.

So it looks like 2010 is going to start off, for me anyways, with an exciting ‘mold elimination’ diet. 3 months of a diet which basically has me eating nothing, as apparently all food is on this list, most condiments, all things pickled and vinegared  and lots of tomatoes. Oh, and cheese. And most heartbreakingly of all….. wine….

Oh lord how will I survive without cheese and wine.

I am totally f’d in the a.

Allergies, ahoy!

I love my Little V.

I accept his allergies with a smile and, in some small ways, enjoy the challenge of his lifestyle. In a way, it forces me to make his meals healthy as the challenge of peanuts and wheat really narrows down the kind of things that you can feed a child out in public. It really cuts out large amounts of crap.

Nice challenge, eh? I am a well-prepared mother when we are out and about, as Lord Only Knows what people put in food these days and either don’t mention it or mention it in a super low-key way.

Like Chik-Fil-A.

Did you know that they cook all of their food in peanut oil?

Really, Chik-Fil-A? In an allergen filled world, with peanut allergies becoming extremely prevalent in children, this is a good idea?

Are you even aware of peanut allergies? Or people? Or people with allergies? Or anything? Anything at all? Bastards.

And yes, I didn’t ask at the drive through. And yes, I am a terrible mother. And yes, I was surprised that I hadn’t heard anything about this before. And yes, I tried to steal his chicken nuggets. And yes, that’s how I found out. And yes, I was terribly mad. And yes, finally, I know it is all my fault for not asking. Totally my fault.

However, still annoyed with Chik-Fil-A. Annoyed with their cute kids meals that have Berenstein Bears books in them. It really was one of the few places that I felt ok about Chicken Nuggets. It is actual real chicken,  not that chicken goop that is formed into nuggets.

Maybe I am just a little naive in thinking that in these days of enlightened eating, where everyone is a gourmet chef and food critic, that I would have heard it mentioned before physically running into it. Head first.

Although, CFA is not exactly the most gourmet of eateries.

In reading over their website and allergen claims, it seems quite clear-cut from their point of view. Their oil is heat processed and refined, which apparently makes it safe for consumption by people with allergies.

However, I still feel a little overtly ‘mother concerned’ and am banning them. It weirds me out just a little.

Anyways, that is the end of my Chik-Fil-A rant.

Really, this was all about how V and his allergies. And what I do about them.

Well, I got allergy tested. First part was last Monday, RAST testing on my back. Very interesting. Apparently I have some kind of dermatological skin , which makes skin testing rather tricky because of the welts.

I had a lot of positives for different molds, a few pollens, MAPLE TREE (if you can believe that! AND I am Canadian… whats up with that!), Orange tree. It was very very interesting.

My lovely Nurse  friend drew some blood for food testing and tomorrow I am having intradermal skin testing done.  How allergic am I? Am I an allergic person? Does V get it all from me?

AND, on an interesting side note, it appears he might be allergic to penicillin as well. This is based on a weekend filled with vomit roughly the colour of the amoxicillian he is taking.

I am allergic to it, or was at least sensitive to it as a child, and stupidly haven’t ever mentioned it to V’s Dr.

Dumb-ass.

Just one call to her this weekend, and she happily reassured me re: Vomit-Fest 2009 hosted by the Melvins.

More to follow tomorrow, post testing…

xox a.m.

ps: Kids allergy testing info here…

Karma

So the other day my son  threw up everywhere. So awful. And even more so since the whole incidence was in public.

And then it suddenly was Christmas.

How are these 2 events linked together? This was information that I learned during Christmas morning with my sweet boys while I was unwrapping a prezzie from the Big M.

And so back to Tuesday we go, V and I wandering around the Mall on one side, while M went the other way. He likes to do his shopping last-minute. So as V and I were cruising, we strolled past the Aveda store. I am such a sucker for anything Aveda and was thinking about something for my sister-in-law and so in I strolled.

It’s basically like shopping at MAC, the shop staff is quite posh and slightly unapproachable. Completely dressed in black.  Impeccable hair.

Anyways, strolling in and around the closet that is Aveda, deeply inhaling the gorgeous aromas of their products. Of course, just staffed with one person who was deeply involved in a complicated discussion regarding conditioners.

I had a wee question to ask him, so V and I waited patiently near the till while he rang his customer up.

Suddenly, without any warnings at all, started projectile vomiting.

All I could say was “What the hell?!?!” as I tried to catch the vomit spewing out of him with one hand, while the other tipped him forward so he wouldn’t choke. And spew it did. Seemingly endless in manner…

While my hands were outstretched, both catching and supporting, the Aveda guy and customer made horrified faces at me and my child. Aveda guy offered me some towels and then went back to the counter to endlessly apologize to the blond woman who just stared at me with her lip curled in disgust. Childless bastards.

It felt endless, but maybe was approximately a minute or so. And then I cleaned up vomit for a few minutes. V just sat there in his stroller, looking shocked, I was shocked. Aveda guy was shocked. I was embarrassed. And apologetic. Aveda guy said “I’d help you, but I hope you understand that I am feeling a bit nauseaous” . And gave me a garbage bag when I asked.

I joked “Well, there could be worse places than Aveda! At least you can easily cover up the smell!!” I don’t think he thought it was as funny as I did.

I pretty much ran out of there with V, on the phone with M the whole time…

“Honey? Vomit-fest. V is covered. We are leaving. Meet you are Sears?”

“Sounds good. Why don’t you buy V something clean to wear at Sears?”

“Ok!” I said, slightly freaked out and panicked. But, of course, calm at the same time. Outwardly, anyways…

That stroller was practically on fire, it was going so fast. And a trail of vomit-odor followed us through the mall and into Sears. And into the elevator. And as the doors were starting to shut, someone shouted out for us to hold it. Really? Are you sure?

She was, and politely rode with us up to the second floor. In a vomit elevator.

I raced into the kids section going “2-t 2-t 2-t 2-t” in my head.  I only wanted that size, a shirt and pants or shorts. Quickly found some serviceable things and dashed off to the check-out.

Standing in line, anxiously shifting from one foot to the other with V in front of me caked in vomit. No-one gave us a second glance.

I reached the counter and had the following ridiculous converation:

“Did you find everything you were looking for?”

“Yes, thank you, I did.”

“Do you have any coupons you’d like to use today?”

“No, thank you.”

“Would you like to use your Sears card?”

“No, I don’t have one thanks.”

“Would you like to apply for one?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Everything would be almost free if you did~~~!”

“My child is covered in vomit, so I am not really interested at this time.”

The look on her face was priceless. And then she started apologizing. And frankly I didn’t care at all. I just paid, ripped the clothes off the hanger at the counter and refused her offer of a bag.

Back to the elevator, down to the second floor and out into the parking lot. M met me with the car on the sidewalk, which was where I stripped the Little Man down and changed his vomit-clothes. Most of them went right in the trash.

The day didn’t get any better from there. It basically sunk into vomit-hell.

Vomit, phone calls to the pediatrician, more vomit. Quick stop at home. Bath. Change. Vomit. Off to the Dr. More vomit. Vomit. Vomit. And some more vomit. Slight dehydration of the little man.

Christmas morning, as I opened a package from M, I learned more about karma than I ever knew. As I unwrapped several bottles of Aveda haircare products, M could barely contain his glee as he recounted his story. Apparently he had been in the Aveda store about 15 minutes before me. And Aveda guy was a total ass to him. So awful and condescending that M wondered why I liked their products.

So Aveda guy? Right back at ya…

Fever, again

Mummy? Change me. NOW.

As I type this, my eyes are closed. There is a glass of Merlot in front of me. Julia and Julie is playing on the Blue Ray. V is sleeping. I just finished sauteing some scallops for my salad.

Key phase in above ramble? ‘V is sleeping’

3 days of super sick baby, Mummy has now reached an insane level of ‘over it’.

Except, Mummy can’t be. Not like Mummy is when Daddy gets sick. Nope, with Little Booboo, Mummy is always on.

Wednesday morning was a low fever, Wednesday evening it was 100 degrees. Thursday early morning it was 101. I stayed home that day with the sick Little Man. It was awful. Fevers scare the crap out of me.

Thursday was a ‘Motrin’ day. And a ‘Tylenol’ day. And a “Mummy, I need a cuddle’ day. And that is how I always know my V isn’t feeling well, when he searches out Mummy’s lap and snuggles down.

Thursday afternoon was 102 and Friday morning was 103.2.

POINT TWO! POINT FRIGGIN’ TWO!

Jesus Christ, how can anyone’s heart take this sort of thing?

And then I had to go to work.

And M took him to the Doctor. Bad sinus infection and a molar coming in. How Dr E even managed to get into his mouth to look, I have no idea. I can barely get a toothbrush in there. One time I had to remove something(s) (paper, pennies, dog kibble, pieces of wood, dirt from the floor etc) and I swear he almost severed my finger. Baby teeth are sharp things.

So apparently those 2 things are enough to raise ones body temperature.

Sooooo… amoxicillin, Motrin with alternating doses of Tylenol, decongestant cough/nasal drops, Singulair tablets AND Pulmacort nebulizer treatments.

Last night, while I was dosing the Little Man, I couldn’t believe how many things I was administering to him. Basically 5 (or 6 depending on how the day is going)  different things. Seems like an awful lot for one small body.

Something which was rather apparent to me this morning. Let me fill you in on last night.

Last night, post-bath, as I went to diaper and pj the Little Man I discovered there WERE NO DIAPERS upstairs in his bedroom. Which actually meant that there were no diapers in the upstairs. Which meant there were no diapers in the house. Carrying a naked baby downstairs, I rifled through the diaper bag and found 2.

Oh thank god. One for tonight and one for the morning. And then M would be up (from his double shift) and I could do a run to the drug store and it would all be ok.

So this morning, at 7:30, it was not. My morning started with some hard-core grunting. Oh say it ain’t so. Say it ain’t so!! But the smell said otherwise. Of course, being that the last diaper in the house had just been put on a small bum, it only made sense to use it. Apparently immediately.

Oh sick child of mine, we now have an endless supply of diapers and you can fill them to your hearts content. Which you will. I know you too well.

Cardio Win

So in my quest for rejuvenation, I have been hitting up the YMCA pretty hard this week. No more excuses. No more ‘I’m too tired’, ‘It’s too late’ or ‘Oh, M is looking particularly handsome tonight’… none of that!

Monday night I hit up some ‘Cardio Kickboxing’. Firmly planted right in the back of the room, which is kind of like the back of the bus or the back of the lecture hall. Ready for easy and quick escape and near the door.

Hoping to enter the class unnoticed, my plan went sour when the teacher started chatting me up before the class started. Well shit. I confessed my ‘back of the room’ plan and he just laughed at me and slapped me on the shoulder. “You’ll do fine,” he smiled.

Oh great.

I think about 10 minutes of the class was spent (stretched over the whole 45 minutes) was spent with me looking alternately confused and staring blankly at what the people around me were doing. There was a lot of sweating too. But it was a lot of fun.

Next up?

‘Cardio Dance’

*cue laughter*

Post-kickboxing class, I reflected on my lack of rhythm. Cardio dance cemented those thoughts. It turns out that Cardio Dance is a code name for ‘Zumba‘, which is something I have no business doing.

1) I have no rhythm

2) I have no kind of street edge at all and am not able to dance with attitude (or ‘tude’ as the teacher referred to it)

3) As I discovered, I am the whitest person alive.

4) I actually am not sure how to ‘shake my booty’.

5) Going to a sexy dance class, with gyrating crotch moves, booty shakes and pelvic thrusts in my husband’s oldest and most unflattering teeshirt made me slightly self-conscious next to the other pretty young thangs in their YMCA finery.

I wasted a lot of time turning in the wrong directions, facing the wrong way and staring blankly. And laughing at myself (out-loud too. It just was that ridiculous).

And finally?

Tonight was Spin Class.

Walking into the class with 2 other people who also had no idea what they were doing made me feel a little better. Our sweet and perky teacher, who looked like she was about 5, was so enthusiastic about everything I started to feel ok about it.

Class started.

Now here is something I can handle. Just good old fashion sweat.

Sweat combined with pumping bass and pop-music. And a bike. So simple. No fancy footwork. Easy rhythms. I can handle this.

I am in exercise heaven. I might have finally found something to replace Bikram.

45 minutes later, I was soaking and my legs were shaking. *fist pump*

Exercise win!

(and I remembered my vitamin AND flossed my teeth!) Health win as well!!!

* I’ll keep you posted on if I am able to walk tomorrow or not…

Virtuous

Today I took a vitamin.

I cannot even begin to share my joy with you that I finally remembered to. I bought them about 2 weeks ago and they have been sitting forlornly on my counter, giving me puppy-dog eyes whenever I walked in and out of the kitchen.

This evening, as I walked through the kitchen for the millionth time, I finally decided to open the package.

Horse pills, oh glorious horse pills. These were some seriously big multi-vitamins. And a sort of concentrated urine colour too. Not the most appetizing of appearances.

I choked that mother down and am feeling quite virtuous. I am a healthy mo-fo. (Or at least taking some baby-steps in that direction).

In my quest for other things that are virtuous, I found a few…

This quite interesting blog about thrifty living. And some cute tricks for putting together inexpensive decorations for the house…

I also discovered this wonderful book. ‘Virtuous Vampire’? How intriguing! To quote one reviewer “I loved The Virtuous Vampire. The heat and attraction between Abbie and the Alpha Male Lucan was hot and sexy.”

Hot and sexy. And apparently virtuous as well.

The more I googled about virtuous, the more it became clear that swallowing that vitamin maybe didn’t bring me quite to the level of virtuosity as these other women I ran into while surfing. A lot of Christians. Not that that is a bad thing, I was just surprised by the amount of passion for virtuous living and God. And breastfeeding.

I probably am not as virtuous as all these people espousing their love for God, clean and proper living (and behavior)… and, of course, breastfeeding.

Apparently I am on a different ‘virtuous life-style’ path. It’s a ‘eat lots of citrus fruit, drink decaf tea, takes horse-pill-sized vitamins,  exercise almost, daily drink lots of water’ life path. With yoga. And no breastfeeding.

To each his own, eh? (that’s a bit of Canadian for ya’ll… and that’s a bit of the South too).

Off to finish my decaf and crawl into bed to virtuously write my Xmas cards…

xoxo a.m.

Rejuvenation

Sometimes it's easy to forget the better things in life...

AtlanticMama rejuvenation project is currently underway.

And I don’t mean just the blog, which is an ongoing work in progress. I am in the process of trying to breath some life back into my ‘life’.

Not that Life sucks right now, or anything like that. And certainly not that life with M is bad or I am not enjoying motherhood. But more of an ‘I am not happy with myself’ sort of thing. Funnily enough, it was about this same time last year, that I was struck with similar feelings. Except at that time, they manifested more as anxiety related-heart palpitation-ish-I think I’ll go to the ER because my heart is racing so much I think I am going to pass out and the way it’s beating is freaking me out.

One ER visit, one follow-up trip to my family doctor, several trips to a cardiologist, one stress test and some medication later, I felt somewhat normal. And rather freaked out. I know it was a combination post-pregnancy plus stress plus sleep-deprivation and I am sure there were a few more factors in there too (those damn socks of M’s). As much as I thought I was handling it, I think I was internalizing it a little too much and the end result was the ER.

For the last few weeks I’ve been feeling it building. Not so much the heart palpitations, but the feelings. The dissatisfaction. I felt like I was watching myself and disapproving of everything. My weak excuses for not hitting up the YMCA. I have a mandatory membership! I have no reason not to go. And this stupid holiday season with all of the yummy things. And my apparent complete lack of self-control when it comes to these delicious seasonal treats.

Lets just say this path felt familiar. And I am determined to not get too far down it again.

Hence my rejuvenation. My pulling things back in line. My focus. My dedication.

Saturday night I gave myself a facial. Holy crap did I need it. It was so relaxing for the 10 minutes that peel mask sat on my skin. And then I ruined the balance by having 2 more glasses of wine and staying up until 1 am. Who am I! Certainly not 25 years old again, living in Japan. What was I thinking. Clearly not anything about how V likes to get up super early. Parenting fail.

Sunday started off strong with a lovely walk in the park and then a trip to yoga. However, ruined again by the stuff-fest hosted by yours truly and staying up too late. And then arguing with M about nothing for a long period of time.

Balance fail.

Today was a better day, so based on that, it is the official start of my Rejuvenation.

No sweets all day. Check!

Healthy lunch. Check!

No caffeine. Check!

Adorably greeted by Little Man at daycare with a lovely picture he painted himself. Check!

Kickboxing class. Check and check!

Parenting and balance win!

Here is a really sweet (as in sensitive and delightful) website about yoga, pregnancy and healthy lifestyles.  All of those preg ladies out there, embrace the yoga. Your body will thank you.

(important health message for the masses. Check!)

xoxo a.m.

Yoga

Finally over my nasty cold, I headed back to the YMCA tonight with firm intentions to become a regular. All of this is part of my plan of  ‘Atlantic rejuvenation’.

Mumma needs a boost, a jolt, a kick in the ass. Something to shake up my life, push me over the edge a bit. As if my husband doesn’t push me over the edge enough…those damn socks of his (I found one in the street this evening), and 2 litres of gravy?! Well, I won’t get into further details about THAT. Let’s just say its 5 days later and is still residing in my fridge. Feeling a little frightened about what it has become. 3 days ago, the last time I lifted the wrap and scooped some out, it was jello-like. Lord know where we are now…

I digress.

Yoga tonight was different than yoga previously. There is no Bikram over on this side of town, its just plain ol’ regular yoga. Something I haven’t done since around 2005. With my Mum. In Canada.

The class was low-lit, candles on the floor, kinda romantic and relaxing. With ‘hippie’ music playing (that’s what M calls it). There was no sweating. There was no barked orders and sharp clapping to signify position change. And also , she didn’t talk that much.

It was an adjustment for me. I guess I had become used to my Bikram instructors and their style of class. This new gentle style was certainly different.

I enjoyed it though and I feel so long and tall. And my back feels supple and relaxed.

Now that I have broken the ice with the Y, spinning class will be next. Never done it, but walked past a class this evening and was entranced by the sweating and barked orders. Um, clearly I need to be shouted at and to sweat my face off.

Care to hazard a guess about what this says about me? Need to be in a controlled environment. The only thing that would make it better would be for the class to come with a handbook and maybe some tedious paperwork to fill out.

Then I’d be in heaven.

Gravy

Maybe that's what I should dowith the left-overs...

No more verbal diarrhea about, well, garbage. Part of my New Years resolution.(see last nights post for garbage)

Plus do more yoga, blog more about interesting things that attract more readers, potty train V, run a 10 k, spend more time with M, lose this damned baby weight, contemplate a Masters Degree, maybe get pregnant… Clearly I am setting my sights high… nothing wrong with that!

I am just getting a head start, preparing the list of ‘resolutions’ a little early. We all know how much I like to make lists.

Can I just complain about the baby weight for a minute?

It’s a son of a bitch to lose.

SON OF A BITCH. Period.

Before there is even a conversation about baby #2, this weight needs to be so last week. Let’s ignore the fact that I have been talking about another baby for EVER. And focus instead on how I am going to find time to shake this crap off.

Already I am back on the super diet. And am about to hop back aboard the exercise train. I had deboarded due to some antibiotics that I was taking that made me feel a bit funny. But that kicked that nasty cold to the curb, so I was happy to sacrifice a week of exercise for that.

So welcome back yoga!! My first class will be this Thursday night. Now it won’t be Bikram yoga. The studio is now just too far away from my house, plus now that my home owners association fees include a membership to the YMCA I have no argument to not go to ‘free’ yoga. I don’t care, I just need yoga.

I really feel like it brings some measure of balance into my life. Calms me down. Makes me slightly less spastic.

So I eagerly await Thursday night’s appearance.

And on a completely different topic, my husband made  2 litres of gravy last night.

Why you ask? Not too sure.

We were eatting left over roast from Sunday night and I asked him to go and get some dry gravy mix. Gravy in a jar creeps me out.

Anyways, he came home with 2 packages and proceeded to spend about 30 minutes sauteing mushrooms in red wine, mixing the powder and water together in a separate bowl and then slowly added it to the boiling water on the stove. You would not even believe the mess in the kitchen. It looked like he had been cooking a la Julia Child.

It was gravy!!

Anyways, if you need some, just let me know. I have about 2 litres in the fridge and am happy to share it with you…

xoxo a.m. (a gravy-filled atlanticmama)

Sparkle!

Please bless this home with sparkles and multi-colour shoes.

Things we do to our children.

For example, the things I do to mine.

Friday was a short day for me. Christmas party at work, a luncheon with ‘games’ and in my excitement at leaving work early I planned just a few extra things. Things that, in retrospect, should have just been ‘fit in’ on their own day. I was a wee bit determined though and we all know what that’s like.

Xmas photos at the mall (in the tropical thunder-storm that hit the area?! Sure! No problem!). Late night trip to the grocery store (late being 7 pm). Dinner at 7:30. Bed at 8 pm. This is all very unusual for all members in my household, especially the dog. I think he relies on routine and gets confused when things don’t go according to his plans.

I stayed up way later than everyone else.

And thought about things.

About the lady I met in the photo studio last night who exchanged Iphone apps with me. Thanks for ‘Hatch’! Her son was roughly the same age as V and I couldn’t help but notice that she was loosing her hair. She was much older than I am/was/will be.

Whatever that means.

Anyways…

About the photographer that made the most interesting noises I have ever heard in order to gain and keep Little Man’s attention. Good job! I didn’t even know those noises existed! And how do you learn them? And oh, how I don’t want to ever be a photog working at a place like that.

About how crappy driving in the rain is here. It might be the equivalent to driving in the snow on Vancouver Island. Despite the fact that it rains here a lot, no-one still knows how to drive in it. Hence my Island reference. Re: snow.

About how letting Little Man stay up until 8 pm equals me getting to sleep in until 9 am. Not such a bad thing.

Anyways, we got home late. The only thing he wanted to eat was banana and milk. Who am I to argue with him? We were waaaaaay beyond that point. We were at the point of  ‘nobody matters at all’,  least of all Mummy. At least he ate.

And Sunday was the same… but slightly more of ‘Things we do to our children’ and ‘What the hell were we thinking!’.

Both of these topics seem to come up rather often.

We went to Downtown Disney. For those not in Florida, it is a cute area, on Disney property but not attached to any of the parks. Movie theatres, shops, Lego stores, McDonald’s (apparently an essential), it’s all that kind of thing.

It was a no-nap day. Just a light snooze in the car, followed by french fries and chocolate milk (which is the hugest treat ever). V, in his sweater, had the run of the place. And then M had the brilliant idea to see if he liked cotton candy.

Well, he does. And sugar gives him energy despite the lack of nap.

We got back to Hunters Creek around 4 pm. And then home, after a stop at the grocery store around 5 pm. And what did we buy at the store?

A roast. Because on a Sunday night, around 6 pm, this is clearly the perfect thing to slide in the oven. At the time we were discussing it (3:30 pm) it was! And sounded so delicious!

When we got home (5 pm), and put it in the oven (6 pm) it seemed like the beef was a dream. And a stupid dream at that. We had sushi for dinner while the roast cooked.

And we had Roast for dinner tonight. Way to plan!

Things I thought about today…

About how demanding people are. Is it an American thing? Not sure, but the kind of screaming that I face on the telephone is the equivalent to a toddler tantrum. People pout and fight when they don’t get their way. To be honest, it’s rather annoying. I would rather V have a temper tantrum in the middle of a busy street than talk to some guy who can’t understand why his post-nasal drip isn’t cause for National Concern (sometimes you can just hear the capitals).

Or why we can’t see you ‘right now’. Or why you can’t  ‘just come in and wait….. it will only take “5 minutes”‘. Pretty much this is every conversation that I will be having until years end.

About how I missed my BF Shanaenae* today at the office. Naenae, you know I need to see you every day.

It’s moving into that time of the year. Yes, that’s right. It’s Nature’s Menstrual cycle. Everyone gets bitchy. And the closer it gets to Xmas and New Years, the worse it gets for all of us making appointments and doing things of other Nation Concern to random people. Bastards.

How I felt sad that V ran into daycare this morning without a care in the world. I literally was like “Oh. Ok. Um….. Um. I guess I’ll go now…” Meanwhile V is happily playing without a care in the world with another little boy. My feelings were just a little bit hurt. Just a little. *sigh* Ok, a lot.

But miraculously, I felt waaaay better this afternoon when I went and picked him up and he immediately dropped everything he was doing and ran to me. And then clung to my legs.

THAT’S what I want to see!!!! Pure dependency!

All it does is cement that my little man is growing up. And that, probably, I need to have another baby.

Lord, please bless this home with a feminine child.

Mumma needs to buy sparkly shoes for someone…

*Girl, I am only using your Ghetto name for privacy reasons….