From Busy to Dizzy (OCD 101)

I have completely lost the ability to multi-task. Maybe it’s because I’m old (41 this year), maybe it’s because I have a (very adorable, but non-sleeping) baby. I don’t know. Maybe after the life I’ve had I figure I’ve earned the right to do one thing at a time and sit down when I have an extra 10 minutes….or 60. 😐

When my ex and I were together I had 5 small children (all between a year to year and a half apart) in the house. I was used to constantly thinking for 6 or 7 people and a dog. I was used to doing 4 or 5 “little things” (get me juice, where’s my math paper, Corbin hit me) while doing 2 or 3 “big things” (making dinner, cleaning the girls’ room, painting the hallway). I could talk on the phone while checking email, dusting, packing backpacks for school, dressing 2 kids and changing the baby. I had no problem in a room full of people half my size each with lists of demands that have to be met NOW, coupled with a dog running through them and knocking things over. Going to run errands was as simple as making sure I had everything I needed, the kids had a pack of stuff for the truck, everyone in diapers had a clean one, the kids out of diapers had gone potty, everyone had shoes (preferably matching) and favorite toys to ride with and all five were buckled up into their car seats each with his or her own sippy cup. Oh, and don’t forget the diaper bag. But now?

Now the thought of that makes me very, very sleepy. The kids went to live with their dad after our divorce and my world suddenly became very, very quiet. For a year or so I had a hard time functioning just because everything stopped. It was too quiet. I had a list of things I had to do. For me. My stuff. And then that was it. I was thinking for one person. Well, I have my guy so it went to two. Now I have Abby. I’m up to three. But still, there’s a lag in my brain. It slipped gears and is very confused. I have a lot of “extra” time on my hands and have no idea what to do with it. The weight of not knowing makes me sleepy. I’ve turned into a couch potato whereas in my former life I would have given my right eye for ten minutes to lean against something nevermind sit down.

I used to be able to try to schedule things I had to do between big kid school drop off and little kid preschool drop off, then do as much as I could, then little kid preschool pick up and lunch, hopefully naps for the little ones and more stuff before realizing just how late it is and grabbing everything and everybody who was home to run to school to pick up the big kids. Then it was kid time. Homework, stories about their days, stuff that came home, stuff that had to go back, playtime, dinnertime, Daddy home, bathtime, playtime, bedtime, kitchen cleanup, bedtime, dog time, bedtime, collapse for a minute, and “why can’t you stay in bed?” ((0.o))

These days I’m totally worn out by 6pm (from WHAT???), the house is usually very clean (not weekends) and I have nothing to do. At least, I can’t get my brain around being more laid back, about not having as much to multi-task, about having time to WHATEVER!

Today I made a list to keep me from getting “foggy” and “confused” or even “overwhelmed”. So far so good. However, with the time I have I seem to have developed a slight case of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. My bathroom towels (bath as well as hand) HAVE TO be folded in thirds and hung evenly. I don’t feel like things are in order until there is NOTHING on my kitchen counter. I have to have the toys picked up before I go to bed (and not just “picked up” — everything with pieces are put together again first, THEN put in the toy basket). I bought Abby a shopping cart seat so she wouldn’t have to touch the germ-ridden shopping carts when we go to the store or the high chairs when we go out to eat (how often does that happen? LOL). Almost every day I disinfect her toys so she doesn’t get sick. I rub her hands with sanitizer after she touches something icky. I Lysol common surfaces in our house DAILY so we don’t get sick. The other day I caught myself polishing the toilet paper holder with Windex. (Who does that?) But today I’ve outdone myself. Today I dusted my vacuum cleaner.

Have Lysol and Swiffer duster. Will travel.


Live, Laugh, Love

Have I mentioned I have a beautiful baby? Have I mentioned I’m aging? Have I mentioned all those things converge today? Well I do, I am, and they are.

Today is Abigail’s very first birthday. Okay, when she was born it was her first birthday and that one is the only one we can’t repeat. I flatly refuse to try. However, today she is an entire year older, wiser, more aware, taller, more beautiful, smarter (although she’s always been smart!), more talented, funny, endearing and loved.

People without children can never understand this all-encompassing enrapture I feel for Abby. Everything she does makes me smile. [Well, except poo…she doesn’t like that and it’s stressful for both of us. (TMI?)] When she laughs my heart sings. When she cries she is so sweet and sad that it both touches my heart and makes me smile. I love to be with her and see the world through her eyes. I love to hold her and smell her hair. I love it when I hold her and she puts her head on my shoulder and snuggles up to me. I love it when she teaches herself something new. Her little face is so determined. I can see her thinking things through and trying so hard to get her little body to do what she wants it to do. She’s so quick to pick things up. She watches her daddy and me and learns so fast. In honor of her accomplishments this year, I’m going to share them with you.

The past year Abigail has done all the normal things like learn to roll over, sit, pull herself up, stand, and toddle. She has learned (and loves) to stand in the window and watch cars and people go by. She loves to stand on the couch to look out the window behind that. She can see grass, birds, cars and if she’s lucky, DADDY on his way home. She can’t put on her shoes, but she can open the velcro to take them off and can stick the velcro together after I put them on. She understands most of what we say. You can see it on her face. She can sign a few words (and uses them appropriately), she sings, she dances, she jumps (but doesn’t leave the floor) and she knows what each of those things are. She can feed herself (not well, rofl) and will hopefully learn real words soon. Other things she can do are take the doors off the vanity in the bathroom and unroll a brand new roll of toilet paper all the way out of the bathroom and into the hall. She can work the water filter doohickey and pour water all over the kitchen floor. She can stack blocks. She’s learning to throw (thanks, Dad!) and as of two days ago she can WHISTLE.

All I do every day is keep her safe from harm and stand around with my mouth hanging open ’cause DAY-UM. She has also already drawn her first picture. (Think lightning bolts on steroids.) At this rate she’ll be ready for kindergarten in a month, graduate from high school at age 6, and have me in a retirement home at age 9.

I was prepared to love her. I had hopes as to what she would be able to do and what sort of person she would be. I was not prepared for her to exceed everything I hoped or be wonderful enough to soften my heart and make me weep just because she IS. I wasn’t prepared to feel the mix of emotions I’m feeling today. She is still my baby and always will be. She still needs me. But in this oh-so-short year since her birth she’s grown up so much.

I’m not sure my heart can stand it.

Happy birthday, poodle.  Mommy loves you.

Click here to see Abby’s first birthday photo book.

I’m Suffering. You’re Laughing.

I have this thing where I substitute one word for another word. Unfortunately they’re never interchangable words. :/ Last week the big funny thing was when I confused “chipmunk” with “chimpanzee”. It’s one thing for your dog to be chasing a chipmunk through your yard. Quite another spectacle for your dog to be frolicking with  a chimpanzee.

Today it’s a cloudy about to rain day. It’s very breezy. So I opened the windows “to let the crossdressers in”.


VIMH: “What?!”

Me: “To keep us cool.”


That would be “cross-breeze”.

And, sadly for me…maybe luckily for you, my dyslexia is blooming and I’m thinking the right words but they’re coming out totally wrong. It’s taken me forever to write this.

I may “step back” for a bit and let nature either correct it’s wrongdoings in my brain or completely destroy me…if it ends well I’ll be back.

Do you ever have those dreams where something is chasing you and you KNOW you have to get away and do it quickly, but when you run it feels like you’re running through sand and you aren’t getting very far? For me, trying to communicate right now is like that. Like my brain is working but its output has to fight through leagues of ocean waters to get to daylight. Some of my ideas never make it…they float, trapped, below the surface. Others can see them, but they’re ripply and unclear. They don’t understand what I’m thinking or trying to express.

It’s frustrating. I’ve always been an exceptional speller (despite the dyslexia) and I’m very good at grammar. Right now my first drafts are more like a small child’s first effort. Gah.

Anyway, I love you guys, I love writing and I love my blog. I can’t let intense frustration kill my love for these things. I’ll be here. I just may not be posting. Or I may. If my brain clears up.

Thanks, as always, for reading. I *heart* hearing from you.


Hello Little Pooples…

Please forgive any lack of punctuation, spelling errors and lack of sense. This baby is NOT sleeping. She’s ok…she naps during the day. I have a hard time doing that until I’ve been without sleep for so long that I just fall over from exhaustion.

Exhaustion here I come!

Two nights ago she woke up at 12:30 or 1:30 and was up til 3:30. I was up til 4 to make sure she was asleep. Then she had a pretty normal night, woke up once. No big deal. Last night she woke up and fussed a bunch of times right in a row after we went to bed. Then, at 1:30 she woke just long enough to wake me up, get me to the crib and locate her bottle. Then she went to sleep. I put the empty bottle on the dresser and laid back down. As soon as I fell back to sleep she was up again. (Gah!) Then, I got her a bottle and of course, she would not  be happy. Once again I brought her out to the living room so she wouldn’t wake Daddy. We were out here about an hour. Then I couldn’t take anymore. I laid her back down. She drank her bottle, played with her BabyTad, and eventually went to sleep….only I couldn’t because I was awake then.

That’s how my day began at 1:30 this morning. I stayed up, I made my guy’s lunch and breakfast, got dinner out to defrost, washed and rinsed a load of clothes and did the dishes. When he left for work I had the chance to lie down and get some sleep. Did I?


My fibromyalgia is really bad right now. It actually hurts me to lay in bed. When I’m up I’m barely mobile. I laid on the couch, but it’s Tuesday. Where I live Tuesday is garbage day. The garbage truck is so loud you can hear it if it’s anywhere in a 4 block radius: the truck engine, the backing up BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP, the crashing of dumpsters and the dischordant jingling and grinding of broken glass.


Eventually it did what it had to and went away. Finally. Quiet.  My eyes closed.

And that’s when the chainsaw started.

Love Is In The Air

This morning my guy left early to help a friend with a plumbing issue. He wasn’t home when the baby and I woke up and was gone another couple of hours. When he came home I was online with my SIL and had just put the baby in bed for her morning nap.

He told me I needed to run to the clothing store around the corner and tell them who I am. (?? The HELL–??) Then he pulled a gift certificate out of his pocket and told me I have a hair appointment tomorrow morning. (The HELL–??)

Confused, I showered, dressed and walked to the clothing store and told them who I am. The woman there told me my guy stopped in and bought a gift certificate for me. She said “You have x dollars, the ladies pants are on sale and your section is right there.”

I walked away with two summer tops and a pair of khaki shorts (need shorts). One of the tops is a white Donna Karan. It was $40, I got it for $5. 😀

When I came home I modeled my new clothes (which garnered hearty approval) and my guy and I watched a movie together. Then I laid down for a nap. The baby was up FIVE TIMES last night and I was worn out. He said he had the baby and just rest.

Apparently he was tired too. When I woke up he went to take a nap. I watched the baby and she didn’t lay down until almost 11:30. I laid her down at 7:30 (bedtime) and she only napped. Hopefully she’ll stay out all night and we’ll be back to normal in the morning.

I have to find something for me to eat, then I’m off to bed. I have a hair appointment in the morning.


Someone’s In The Kitchen With Dinah

I know you want to know. Last nights (when did I start writing this? May be a couple nights ago now) spaghetti and monster meatballs were a huge (no pun intended) hit. I used a pound of meat and got THREE meatballs:

Me in the kitchen is a lot like this. My monologue is about the same, only internal. I’ve been known to remove hot things from the oven with my bare hands. I also do the little dance, I must say.

Other than that, there are stinky smells, plumes of smoke, the occassional shriek and a rare fall (ice cubes will be the death of me). MOST of the time, the food that leaves my kitchen is not only edible, but incredibly tasty. My guy says so. After the meatball he said, “You should NEVER stop cooking.” From a chef that’s pretty high praise. I’ll take it!

The Secret of VIMH

It’s true. I have a VIMH (Voice In My Head). Sometimes it gives advice. Sometimes it sings songs. Usually it finishes people’s sentences with words they hadn’t intended and makes me laugh, and every once in a while it yells at me and tells me how stupid I am. It’s like the best friend I don’t have in real life. I guess…my imaginary friend? (How old am I?) I don’t know, but she’s always been there and even when I want my head to myself I can’t seem to evict her. And, before you ask, yes, sometimes we talk.

Me: I’m worried about that interview. I haven’t heard back from the writer yet.

VIMH: She’ll let you know when it’ll be out. She said she would.

Me: I’ve already told everyone I did it and now they’re waiting to read it. This is NOT good.

VIMH: Why?

Me: It’s a NATIONAL magazine. I’m afraid people will read it and think I’m a loudmouth know-it-all.

VIMH: Why would they think that?

Me: Because that’s what happens when I know something!

(VIMH slaps her forehead)

Me: Only this time it won’t be just the people around me criticizing me, it’ll be THE WHOLE COUNTRY. Oh God! (my hands fly to my mouth) I told them about the time the girls crawled out of their window! I was mortified at the time (they certainly hadn’t seen ME do that) and now everyone will just think I was a bad mommy!

VIMH: Ooh. Yeah. That’s not good.

Me: I thought you were supposed to cheer me up?

VIMH: I guess today is the day I get to stand back and wonder what the hell is wrong with you.



Me (Putting new garbage bags in the garbage cans): These are a little big.

VIMH: Why did you get TALL kitchen bags? These cans are not tall.

Me: Well they didn’t have SHORT SQUATTY bags.



Me: Um…three bean salad?

VIMH: OMG! I may never eat again!

Me: I did what it said. Good God, THE SMELL! (covering nose and squinting)

VIMH: Oh! That’s BAD.

Me: I will never make this again. My eyes are watering, my sinuses are burned, I’m coughing and the smell is not going anywhere. Why won’t it go outside? I opened the window!

VIMH: Apparently it’s just blowing the smell through the house instead.

Me: Oh my poor baby! (waving arms, trying to push the smell outside)

VIMH: You’re an idiot.

I Won An Award! :)

The Fabulous Sugar Doll Blogger Award

Since this is really the first year I’ve been blogging, this is my first award of any kind from anywhere. So, of course, I’m flaunting it. (And giggling like a schoolgirl.)

This award comes with the following rules:

1. Thank the person who gave you the award.
2. Share ten things about yourself
3. Pass the award along to 10 bloggers who you have recently discovered and who you think are fantastic!
4. Contact the bloggers and let them know you’ve picked them for the award.

Oddly enough following the rules is what’s giving me hives. ((0.0))

But here we go.

1. I’d like to thank the Academy and everyone who voted. Oh wait…wrong acceptance speech.


Thank you much much much to Daffodil Campbell for reaching into the unknown to find ME. Just knowing you were here made me smile.

2. Ten things about myself. Um. Right. Let’s see:

  1. I like Hulu.
  2. I hate black licorice.
  3. I’m writing a book. Or two.
  4. I get slapped in the face daily. (Thank you, Abigail.)
  5. I’m allergic to grass. GRASS! (Do you know how many people have the nerve to mow in the summer? HOW RUDE!)
  6. My favorite candy is caramels with the cream in the middle.
  7. My favorite color is red.
  8. I hate fish. As pets and dinner.
  9. I love the water.
  10. I can whistle like a bird.

3. and 4. I’m off to do that now! That, and figure out how to put my award on a virtual shelf over there so everyone can see it and tell me how awesome I am. LOL. 🙂

Throw Up Thursday

As you may have guessed, this post involves lunch. MY lunch.

Abby and I took a bath, we played with bubbles, we washed our hair, we fluffed and dried and got dressed. We were feeling pretty good. We then moved into the kitchen to tackle lunch. She opened the lazy susan cabinet and pulled out a can of black beans.

I said, “No way” and spun the cabinet around looking for something edible. (Hate black beans. Hate!) Tuna. We had a can of tuna. I said, “Tuna sounds good, right? Mommy will make tuna.”

I stood up, grabbed a cup to mix it in, opened the can, mixed in Miracle Whip, garlic powder, celery salt and chives. I got bread and made a large sandwich for me and a small one for Abby. We went in the living room, flopped on the couch and I took a bite while channel surfing for baby TV.

Hmm, I wondered, “What is that taste?”  I find a show while chomping away, sit back and look at my sandwich. My bread is covered in mold.


I ran into the kitchen hoping to get to the garbage before I threw up. I tossed in both sandwiches, and spit out what was in my mouth. I searched the cabinet for alternate food. I was left with yogurt and baby crackers. Abby looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.

I grab the bottle that’s on the counter, fill it with water to make her a bottle so she can eat that while I lie on the floor in the bathroom.

Then I notice the smell. “What the–??” I put the bottle to my nose and sniff.


This is the bottle I found under the crib…not the bottle I had washed and cleaned and had given her earlier this morning. OMG.

I locate the PROPER bottle, rinse it, make a fresh batch of formula and lie Abby down for her nap.

So. Not only did I give myself some horrible stomach ailment, I also almost did the same to my cute sweet baby.

Dear Company,

If my guy doesn’t show up for work tomorrow please just assume he’s either dead or at the ER having his stomach pumped because he has eaten something I cooked for dinner.