Thursday, September 27, 2012

This is a post about my child.

My child is two months and seventeen days from being a 2 year old.
If that doesn't sum up this entire post, you'll have to birth a child and then raise it to this point to understand.

He's at that age. 
He's not the sweet kid I used to have 100% of the time.
It's not that he traded with someone else exactly, as I'd like to assume in hopes that my sweet little boy is still out there somewhere, looking for me.
Nope. It's just a phase. 
He will grow out of it. 

That being said...

I'd like to illistrate a comparison, if I may.

My dear son used to wake up happy every single morning.
The second he opened his eyes, he was smiling.

It takes me an extra ten minutes to get out of the door, and I've learned to put a diaper and a full set of clothes on a toddler who is interested in doing other things-i.e. digging through the toy box and sleeping.

So there's an adjustment.

It's all an adjustment.

Luckily, about the last hour he's awake, he remembers that I am his sweet momma who doesn't hurt myself or others when he's going through his little tantrums. He cuddles with me then.

But he still tries to shut me in closets when he's not cuddling with me.

Is this a toddler thing? Or...Does he think I'm a lesbian? Did he learn that at daycare?
Since I'm not with his daddy, I'm a lesbian? Do you think one of the other kids told him that? I bet it was that Cason kid. He's trouble.

Whatever the reason, last night, my dear sweet little boy decided I belonged in the closet.

We were at my parent's house, and they have this sort of laundry closet type-a-deal. I was in there, folding our clothes, as mommas do.
Aiden has always liked to play with the doors to this closet, and more recently likes to shut them.
So there I was, in the closet, and there he was, closing the doors.
I decided last minute to let him shut me in there.
I'm a watch-and-see kinda gal, I reckon.

So, after several attepts, my dear, sweet, perfect little boy completely shut me in the laundry closet.
He then began to cry.
I began to chuckle.
Then, he threw himself on the ground, bawling.
He positioned himself in such a way that he was exactly in the middle of the two doors that would allow me to exit the closet.
He cried harder.
He screamed.
I then began to fear that he was hurt somehow, as he does not normally cry like this.
I tried to get out.
I could not.
I yelled for PaPaw.
Which was tough, as my voice was muffled, coming through the crack of a door, and trying to project over the sounds of a screaming toddler.
I did not panic...I kept trying.
Somehow, PaPaw heard me, and came to the rescue.

Poor kid.

He was just about hysterical, closing his momma in the closet.
And I couldn't stop laughing.

My kid will either be extremely sensitive, or will have a wicked awesome sense of humor.

I hope it's the latter.

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

UPDATED//This is going to have to be random.

Ready for a random post?

I have upstairs neighbors, if that is indeed the correct terminology. They walk. They move chairs. They play on their pogo stick. They train to be ninja turtles.
I think.
I have learned to tune them out.
But I would like to note here, for the record, that they become increasingly active right after I put Aiden to bed. And that makes me feel stabby.

I can tell if I'm moving along on schedule by when I hear the neighbor's shower turn on.
This is the only noise I hear from my direct neighbors that I share a wall with.
They are awesome.
Unless it's the upstairs people again.
We'll never know.

It's super odd, but NO ONE has been in 4F since I posted my blog about it.
Did they read my blog and become scared?
Did they move out?
Did they give up?

I put my cardi on inside out today and didn't realize it until I got to work.


I worked out for the first time in on Saturday, and my calves are still sore.
I also got to have lunch with my brother!
I was really productive that day.
Not to mention, I bought a pair of shoes that were originally for the 2nd wedding, it turns out, I may not even be wearing them.
Hopefully they go with a dress or something.

Look, I'm sorry. I don't have anything to write about this week.
Someone asked me why I hadn't blogged, and I explained to them that I really had nothing to write about.
I told them that last week, I started a blog entry comparing binder clips to paper clips. He agreed that I had nothing to write about.
This just won't do. 

One last thing:

I have a cardi, jewelry, and a dress to wear to the 2nd wedding, but no shoes.
I even have an appointment to spend $74 on my hair and makeup for the day of the wedding.
Any chance the bride will let me go barefoot?

4F came back. He/she must have been on vacation.
They probably needed a break from all the parking lot stress.
One can only assume these things.
Either way, I'm a little jealous.

Thursday, September 13, 2012

The tale of 4F.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls, Cross eyed mosquitoes & Bowlegged Squirrels:
I tell you a tale, this story is true!
...I don't remember how the rest goes. I am old.
But seriously, the following events totally happened to me, and it led to some very frustrated rants toward Aiden's Papaw/Aiden's GaGa/various Seeestors/anyone who would listen.

I signed my lease to my apartment on August 31st.
It was on this very day that I stepped in, looked around, and quite appreciated what I saw.
The apartment manager lady, we'll call her Alice, told me to check back with her regarding where I should park.
I agreed, I was entitled to a place to park. Covered parking is one of the many amenities included in my 12 month apartment lease. Other amenities include a swimming pool and a fitness center. And now you want to be my best friend. It's fine. Come on over. Call first though. I frequently walk around in my underwear.
I'm kidding.
Now, enjoy the rest of your day wondering if I just told the truth or not.
Hanyway, she told me to park in 4F, and I smiled and nodded, and noted the parking space in my "Notes" app in my cell phone.

The next day was moving day. While pulling the truck around with Aiden's Papaw, I notice a maroon volvo parked in 4F!
I think, "OHMYGOODNESS, one of two things has gone horribly wrong here!"
I figured that either a) the volvo was an asshole who just parked in a random place, or b) I noted the wrong parking space.
I decided not to write the volvo off as an asshole just yet.
I could park in an uncovered spot for a weekend, right?
So I did.
The volvo stayed in my space all weekend long.

The following Tuesday (since Monday was Labor Day), I called the office to confirm my parking space.
Volvo is an asshole.
Alice said I could write volvo a note, informing him that this spot was taken, and that if he didn't move I could cut him.
I made that last part up...unless you replace the word "cut" with the word "tow".

I never wrote him a note. I decided, instead, to beat him home from work one day.
And that I did.
And the next morning, I had a note on my car:

"Please, please do not park in my parking space."

It was on a yellow sticky note, and it was taped to my windshield.

I called Alice again, to verify again that my little car belongs in 4F.
She said yes.
She told me to let her handle the problem.
So I trusted her to do just that.

Then, Friday night, after dropping Aiden off, I parked in my parking space, went inside to shower and beautify, then came back to my car to meet some friends.
Another note, furiously taped to my driver side window:

"2nd notice. Please don't park in my space, I WILL have you towed."


This time I wrote volvo a note and left it when I got home:

"My sincere apologies. I was told this was my parking space. So. Um. It appears we have a misunderstanding."

I thought surely it was friendly enough and explained that he needed to seek assistance for this matter, just as I had.

Yesterday, I parked in 4F while eating lunch at home.
I ate.
I watched New Girl.
I took my trash out.
I got the mail.
I went back to my car.
I had a huge sticker on my windshield from the apartment manager, Alice, telling me I was illegally parked, and that if I didn't move, I would be cut. (Again, substitute "cut" for "tow")

While trying to pull the sticker off, I called Alice. Again.
I told her that I received a nice sticker present while parking in the space that she told me to park. Three times.
At first, before I explained the fact that she told me to park there, Alice sounded sort of fussy/all knowing, like, "Why is this person complaining when they were in the wrong?"
I explained to her that I just wanted this whole mess sorted out.
I just wanted to know where to park.
I told her where I live.
She took to the parking space assignment page again (4th time, for whoever is keeping count...).
"Oh. I see what happened here."

As it turns out, 4F belongs to two different apartments. According to their sheet.
They told me the wrong place.
Three times.

The good news is:
This is all sorted out, after nearly two weeks of living there.
My REAL spot is closer to my apartment.

The bad news is:
I keep expecting another note on my "real" spot.

And that's my tale.
That totally happened.
But it's over now.
My mazda sits happily in 5E.
For now.

Monday, September 10, 2012

I fail at [blogging] life.

I have this super awesome plan for a super awesome saga of events that have unfolded since moving.

But here's the thing: I'm waiting on an end to one saga before I can post it.
That's right...a week and two days into my new apartment, and a saga that started on day one is still not over.
If I know you on a personal level, you probably already know the saga I'm referring to.
It's still very important that I wait until it's over to inform you.
You understand.

Okay. The saga is a post in itself.

Here's what's been going on:

*I still don't have cable. Or internet, for that matter. The internet *should* be hooked up by tomorrow, but who really knows? The good news is, I have the patience of a bald eagle. Are bald eagles patient? Dunno. But it just fits that sentence so well. So.

*Aiden is adjusting. When I first set him down in the new place, he immediately saw the Cars dvd on my tv stand (sofa table-I just recently learned what that is...), then saw his tonka truck, so he was okay. The sleeping thing though? Didn't come easily. He woke up at 7AM both days of the weekend when I first moved in, and then had a shaky time sleeping the rest of the week. We're getting there. We're crossing our fingers with bated breath, or however the saying goes.

*Leftovers are my new best friend. Buying lunchmeat was also unnecessary, though I did enjoy a turkey sammich with some pepperoni's from last week's homemade pizza adventure. With a side of risotto from Saturday. NOM.

*It took me a week to figure out how to open my mailbox. You have to stick your tongue out, lift up your left leg slightly, and face toward the north, all while jiggling and turning the key at the same time. That is all true except for the whole part before the jiggling and turning the key.

*I've been over at le parent's house every day I've been gone. Pretty much. Okay, except two days, I think. Maybe three. Get off my back, I don't know the exact details. The point is, Paul and I are cooking for one (and a half) these days, so we share our meals some days.

*I'm teaching myself to budget money. The key is: don't spend money on anything, ever. See? I'm a quick learner.

*I may or may not be hanging out with a boy, but since I get freaked out about jinxing things, that's all I can possibly tell you at the moment. Unless you demand details. And then I will be forced to tell you. But, it's nothing official at this point, so there's not much to tell. So hush.

*I found the best white (whole wheat) corn tortillas at United. I don't remember the brand, but Paul and I both love them. And I'm not even a corn tortilla kinda gal, normally, but these converted me.

That's all I have for now.

Be good. :)

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

We The People

This post is a result of a conversation via email I had with my dear friend Andrea weeks ago regarding politics and how they suck and we're sick of hearing about it, and WHY haven't they come up with a "compromise" party yet?

I never realized until recently how liberally I was raised. It's not just your parent's influence anymore, you learn at an early age about Rosa Parks, and Martin Luther King JR, and the Women's Rights movement. Your teachers drill it into your head that everyone should be treated the same, no matter what their color or sex is. And yet, this battle is still fought, and is no more apparent than election year.
So, I'm a pretty liberal person. Mostly, I mean...I'd say I'm a liberal in my own mind, but I've had Conservative influences. I AM a Texan, after all.

Election year pisses me off. We're getting right down to it, y'all, and I'm getting more irritated by the day.
So irritated, in fact, that I'm blogging about it.

I didn't vote in 2008. It was a combination of not being registered in the county I was living in, but also the fact that I am completely fed up. And not with the candidates, with everyone's bitching.
You read it more and more now, too. You can't avoid it. I learned recently that even the news is either liberal or conservative, so you can't hide from it there either.
And with the way information is over-shared in today's social media, what can you do, except boycott all forms of it until forever? You can't delete someone on facebook for not agreeing with your political stance, no matter how often they post anti-Obama articles. Just like you can't delete them for their terrible grammar. But that's a separate issue.

I will vote this year. I am registered, and I am opinionated, and dammit, I'm going to put it out there.

I will vote, and whatever is going to happen will happen, regardless of what everyone is posting on my facebook and twitter now, and what they will ultimately post after.

We The People, of the United States...will vote someone into office to represent our nation.
We The People, over time, have made it so that no ONE person can make any/all decisions for this whole country. It's called the three branches of government. See also: Checks and Balances.
We will bitch about whoever gets elected. We will fill your newsfeed with hateful statements, because our country allows us to do so. So, we'll use our freedom of speech to gripe about our leader.
We will blame this one person for every single thing that goes wrong while they're in office.
We will over analyze every statement this person ever makes.
We will watch this person's every move, looking for any sign of imperfection.

This, bullshit.

But...that's just my opinion.

End Rant.