"S-M-R-T" -Homer

I have been going through a little crise d'identité recently. (I find it much sexier to say it in French.) It boils down to 1) I feel a lot of pressure, both internally and externally, to go back to work and 2) I don't want to.

My grand aspirations to be this awesome everything woman who juggles a brilliant career for myself with awesome parenting skills for my supremely awesome little girl is not coming to fruition because. Fuck. I get SO TIRED after crayons! and dolls! and oops-toddler-pushed-GO-on-the-blender-before-I-got-the-lid-on-mess! every day. So I do the arts & crafts, including dried-smoothie wall art and sometimes make dinner and then crash and it kind of works for our little family right now. Except it leads me to be socially incompetent (you may note that I reference poop at least 10 out of the last 12 times I posted here...make that 11 out of 13, now) and I hang out with these people with multiple children and jobs and cheery dispositions and I am like..."how?"

I think I just don't have as much energy as a lot of my peers. I have always been suspicious of this fact, it was just highlighted when the raising a kid thing came about. I have never been able to keep up with most of my friends' schedules/activities/cleaning habits. And I realize that it's all about not trying to keep up with the Joneses and not coveting thy neighbors vacuuming habits, but sometimes that is hard because I do like how my carpets look when they are clean and also when my child is not crying. And also when I think regularly about things un-fecal matter-y.

I am happy with our current routine, and I don't feel crazy stressed most of the time, which is a fairly recent development. So it boils down to the person I want to be (creative, role-model-y feminist with Martha Stewart tendencies) is not, in fact, the person I am when I am happy. Le sigh, oh the first-world problems of ME.

What else? We went on vacation, Miss Thang did wonderfully, it is brilliant when a child no longer needs special food or special beds. And when she will sleep through the night in a place that is not HER BED, HER ROOM, 72.6 DEGREES, with oscillating fan pointed at 49 degrees north whilst "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star"/ocean whales white noise machine hums at decibel 2. It gets easier. I liked vacation. I told The Funasaurus I wanted to move to vacation, and he pointed out that then it would not be vacation, it would be have to work in vacation location minus our awesome mountain view and support network, and then that was a big stupid but factually accurate rain on my fantasy parade.

So we're back (happily) in Colorado, talking about poop, waiting for the temperature to drop out of the 90s. Supposedly today is the last day of that nonsense. I just hope there is some fall and 60-70 degrees before the snow arrives.

Zine. Because I Miss the 90s, Perchance?

I've been toying with the idea of making a zine for a while. I need a creative outlet. I am trying to get back into blogging, but as I may have mentioned, I struggle for topics not related to toddler poop and/or sleep depravation, although moreso the poop issues, recently, thank goodness.

And whoever thought I'd say that?

Parenthetical Aside List: SHIT I NEVER THOUGHT I'D SAY UNTIL A TINY HUMAN EMERGED FROM MY VAGINA:

"I am not a Kleenex!"

"Knives are not for throwing."

"Please let me go to the grocery store." (Alone)

"Would you like a bite of my Nutella crepe?"

"Your love is suffocating me. *GAG* Literally. Please stop hugging mommy around her jugular with your tiny but freakishly strong toddler thumbs." (Paraphrased)

"No, we're not buying any M&Ms." *sob*

"My gray hairs ARE beautiful, thanks baby."

"No more peeing on my shoes. I MEAN IT THIS TIME."

Anywhos. Zine! I have decided I may have a chance at less poopy, more interesting things to publish if a) I force others to participate b) I have to go to Kinkos to make copies c) there is potential for glitter usage.

What do you think, internets? Am I just nostalgic for the 90s? Do I not wear enough black? Would you buy one if I made it? (If I promise to send any profit to a nice, hopefully thematic-ish charity? [And I'm talking like, $1 here, people. Girl's gotta buy aforementioned glitter.]) Should I just get a job and talk to other adults in the real world already?

#2

A number of people have asked, joked, or been giving meaningful glances at my slightly-more-bloated-than-usual abdomen (which is purely due to the re-discovery of an old high school favorite ice cream sandwich, but thanks for noticing, mother-in-law) and so I am here to relieve you of any doubt, NACHT, no more babies.

No.

Here is my deep, dark secret: I want another two-year-old so badly. Miss Thang is amazing. Full of "why's" and tantrums, but also primative jokes, terribly off-key singing, whole-body hugs, and actual conversation. I adore her. I always have. I have loved her deeply, from the second she appeared, but that first year was really fucking hard work and I struggled to keep my sanity, no joke there. Now it's (mostly) just fun. And I would love to have another, but I have not developed the amnesia about how hard it was at the beginning. (Plus, you know, all the swelling and bleeding and whatnot to get her here in the first place.)

Mostly I am terrified to have another because of darling little haikus that I would write, tears streaming down my face as I felt like my nipples were slowly being ripped off, much like this one:

Three o'clock A.M.
Death would be better than this.
Go the fuck to sleep.

But you know what? A year and a half later, I realize it was so, so worth it that I wish for another. I am glad I did it. I am just not sure I could survive it again, and that would really suck, because life is really good right now. Meanwhile, I suggest you get yourself an It's-It for a little taste of heaven.

50 Shades of OHmyGAWDIamsoembarrassedtoadmitthis

I broke. I read 50 Shades of Grey. What's that, you're living under a rock and only read Yahoo! news scrolls on your way to checking into email and have no idea about 50 Shades of Fucked Up? (Sadly, that is lifted straight from book content.) It is awful, terrible, AWFUL AWFUL housewife porn.

Porn porn porn, crappily written porn. It is Twilight for the less-educated adult set. If I thought I was embarrassed to admit I read Twilight...this shit makes Twilight look like refined literature. Remember how I felt about Twilight? I had no idea it would get SO MUCH WORSE.

Anyway. It sucks. The writing is so very bad, and I stayed up until 3:00 AM several nights in a row finishing the damn series because I was sucked in to a silly, unhealthy, pervy little world. I swore I wouldn't read another word if one more person's breath "hitched" or gave a "holy fuck," and yet I did. I read those phrases hundreds of more times (I am sending that author a frickin thesaurus as a cry-all-the-way-to-the-bank gift) just to learn how the older, completely disfunctional dude was going to sexually tease the young, hapless female who happens to have had this most eligible bachelor fall for her despite the fact that she doesn't seem to have very much to offer except an amazing ability not to get any UTIs from all the sex-ing.

UHG. Don't read it, unless you need to kick-start your libido, in which case I say, lucky your husband! Also, factor in a day to catch up on sleep after you finish the stupid thing.

Nice

I know I suck at updating anymore, I do. I have debated about what to write, but what seems funny at 3:00 in the morning (windows! hallucinations!) is less-so when I am more conscious a few hours later.

This totally doesn't suck, however:
 

In fact, it made me weepy because, well, that's what I do.

I also pilfered it from Dooce, which I'm guessing most of you (are there any you left?) read, so it may not be new, but HEY! It is worth watching again because it is nice to see people being nice.

Go The F*$& to Sleep. It's Not Just a Book!

Hey Ya.

I'm kind of lost in the drivel of day-to-day life. Things are o.k., except for Miss Thang's sleep habits, which have regressed again. I have less and less patience for it as she gets older, but I don't think it's necessarily all her fault...some sort of mommy-intuition thinks there's more going on than her just trying to manipulate us, maybe a sensory issue or restless leg syndrome. Anywhos, I have an appointment with her pediatrician to get it checked out once the pediatrician gets back from her spring break. Sigh. Who told doctors they were allowed to have a life, anyway?

In the meantime, this made me happy:

Bento Box Giveaway

I aspire to make cute food for my child. So far my endeavors include arranging the mac & cheese in a somewhat-aesthetically pleasing way, and occasionally in a less aesthetically pleasing way. I feel there will hopefully be more options as Miss Thang starts to eat food outside of Variations on Mac & Cheese.

Anywhos, there is a lovely blog I follow, written by a woman who is much more creative than I am, and who has kids who eat starfruit. IMAGINE THE OPTIONS.

She's doing a giveaway, so shameless shout-out to Meet the Dubiens!

I'm Busy

Where I Talk About My Kid Some More

I need to get a job for no other reason than I need a source for something else to write about. Miss Thang is super awesome, and I could write novels about her antics. And poop. (Why is poop SUCH a prominent topic among parents? WHY?) But I am sure you are not here to hear about that. And if you are...yuck.

We had a lapse of warm weather and it was OHSOWELCOME, despite the unseasonableness of it. Nearly 70 degrees in January! We went to the zoo and DIDN'T WEAR COATS. So awesome. Now, of course, it is snowing. But I have stopped fantasizing about moving our entire family of fair skin to Mexico for at least a few minutes.

Miss Thang starts one half day of preschool next Monday. I am already having anxiety dreams about it. One of my concerns is that it goes until 1:00 PM, and typically Miss Thang likes to start her nap around 12:30. I believe she can be flexible for one day, and it'd be nice to push her nap time back just a little in general, but deviating from her routine = not one of Miss Thang's strengths. So I signed her up with the understanding that I will probably arrive 15-20 minutes early the first day, just to make sure she is not melting into a tatrum-y pile of exhaustion. Naturally, last night I dreamt it was her first day and I looked at my watch and it was 1:00. The place is 25 minutes away, by car. And I somehow decided that the best way to get there would be to hop on a bike. (Which, for the record, is something I do not even own.) I was making up excuses in my head to tell the director about why I was such a neglectful parent IN MY DREAM.

Sometimes I wonder if I could benefit from therapy, and/or less tonnage of refined sugar in my diet. (The whole Paleo thing is still intriguing...but hard to commit to.)

Our holidays were great, I am glad they are over. Miss Thang and I both like our routines, I suppose. Sadly, Frosty the Snowman has become a staple in our home, despite the over-ness of the holidays. Miss Thang is potty-training, and is not very motivated by sugar-y treats. (YAY!) She is, however, a TV addict (ERG), so we let her watch bits of Frosty every time there is praise-able behavior. Sometimes, after a particularly successful day, I want to thumpity-thump-thump the DVR, and that is when we switch to Elmo.

Um. That's it. I am out of stories, but hope to be back before another month goes by!

Can You Put Kale in Jello Shots?

Things that have been going on:

1) Our vet told us to feed our cats more wet food. A lot more wet food. Apparently new research says that because it's closer to their natural food source (all relative, I suppose, since that meat-like mush doesn't really resemble any natural meat I've ever encountered, but I suppose more so than pellet-shaped kibble) it's better for their bodies. They're finding that this generation of cats is dying from/with completely dehydrated kidneys and livers, because apparently cats, being desert creatures, get most of their water from food-based substances as opposed to drinking fluids directly. So if you feed a cat kibble all the time, they don't necessarily compensate by drinking more water like a human or even dog would. I expressed concerns over Tatum's growing mid-section, and the vet assured me that cats are very self-regulating with wet food, it's miraculous almost, cats who need more nutrients eat more, cats who need to lose weight actually eat less.

So swung by PetSmart, sorry for the years of unintentional feline kidney neglect, and bought an obscene amount of high-end wet cat food.

Sugar, naturally, refuses to eat it. Give her Fancy Feast, or she shall starve herself.

Tatum, meanwhile, missed whatever self-regulation memo the vet was referring to, and has ballooned out to epic proportions. It would be funny if it wasn't quite so quick and swelling-y. I have to monitor him like crazy, because it took me a while to figure out Sugar wasn't eating her food because Tatum would inhale his, then mainline hers while I just thought everyone was eating a proper amount, tra-la, and why was Tatum so much fatter?

2) Miss Thang is awesome, and smart, and talkative, and already cornering me with her toddler logic, and that is kind of scary. So we are starting to discuss preschools, which leads to an even scarier issue of what the fuck shall I be when I grow up, for Martha Stewart-ing isn't really my gig. I love being at home with my kid, but just ask The Funasaurus about how many gourmet meals he gets a week (whereupon he shall laugh in your face) or stop by and see just how tidy our little home isn't. Stay-at-home mom = yes, housewife = no. Since one cannot be much of a stay-at-home mom if one sends one's Miss Thang to preschool, one might oughtta procure oneself a job.

3) I have been looking into the paleo diet a little. Not much, because I basically live off of cheese and carbs and sugar (and wine, which either is composed of or goes well with the aforementioned) and none of those are very paleo-approved. But this video

posted recently by an old bloggy-friend on Facebook, really got me reconsidering. My compromise is that I am trying to eat a LOT more leafy greens daily. This is hard, because besides some basic romaine and occaisonally spinach, I don't really like leafy greens. Kale and chard and blah de blah farmer's market stuff is too bitter for my taste. But I am trying. I try to dress it up with balsamic, which again, not so paleo, but it's going to be a slow transition, if at all. It's at least better than what my diet was, I figure.

That's about it. We are getting ready for the holidays. I am glad we don't have to travel. We are hosting our annual New Year's party, so if you're in town, looking for a party with awesome 90s hip-hop, please come by and check out my feeble attempts at something Martha Stewart-y in the form of fancy-schmancy jello shots.

Mwah, darlings.

Love Out There

Uhg. That's three. I know these things happen in three, so I'm hoping that's it for a while, that with the holidays comes some good news. I've had three different friends come out with three very different but very sad pieces of news in the last few days. I am trying to get some perspective, to appreciate my world as it is right now, and all the people in it. Lots of love to everyone everywhere. And a bit of extra love to one Shooting Star in particular.

Sorry to be elusive, but thanks for reading, and if you want to send a little love out to the universe tonight, I think it would be well-received.

On a lighter note, my current deep dark secret is that I LOVE the Christmas stuff. I know it is not yet Thanksgiving, I know there are lots of funny cartoons about turkeys giving Santa the what-fors these days. But honestly, I took Miss Miss to the mall today, and she was entranced by the Christmas trees. We admired them for quite a while, in toddler-time. (Thank goodness Santa wasn't there yet.) And her joy was contagious. It was so exciting, and we were both giddy, talking about Christmas trees, reindeer, snowmen, and jingle bells. Speaking of, I played Christmas carols the other day while it was snowing, and we both sang "LET IT SNOW" at the top of our lungs, Miss Thang at least is able to carry a bit of a tune. I'm ready. 'Tis the season for a bit of good times, already. Angela, at least I know you're with me.

Halloween

Halloween was awesome this year. Miss Thang kind of understood about pumpkins and costumes and GETTING CANDY. I figured we'd hit a couple neighbors, she'd think it was interesting, then we'd come home and have some wine with the grandparents who were obligingly mulling some cheap red while we trick-or-treated. I underestimated Miss Thang's enthusiasm. We hit the whole neighborhood, "More trick-or-treat, o.k.?!" Ok, sweet baby. But hustle. Mommy's treat is cooling off rapidly back at home.

We came home and let her go nuts, which is to say she consumed a Kit-Kat, two Reeses cups, and a blue lollipop, which was the highlight. She was totally overstimulated and crazy on the sugar, but that's what Halloween is about, right? Excessive indulgence in high fructose corn syrup. (Until I read this. This made me sad. I will attempt my fair-trade part next year. sigh.)

Miss Thang eventually went to bed (with a neon blue tongue) and I finished off my wine. Miss Thang woke up promptly at 6:0-something this morning, demanding candy. Then had a full-on temper tantrum when I told her no. Seriously made me consider having a similar fit for some of my wine. Then I realized perhaps we were both bordering on an unhealthy habit as it was not even yet light out, let alone 5:00 somewhere. So we had yogurt and french toast and went out for a play date, where we both acted like we were hungover. So I took us to Target and got us both sunglasses. We be hip, though we be cranky.

I'm headed to Albuquerque this weekend to see a good friend and her new baby...all by myself. The Funasaurus will be spending his first weekend alone with Miss Thang. I think we are all ready. I will warn him not to give her (much) candy, and I feel he will be more or less prepared.

Happy November, blog world.

Why Don't I Just Go to Bed? I Haz Important Schtuff to Sayz! (Not Really.)

Yo.

Getting the first snow of the season here, and Facebook can't shut up about it. Seriously, it's mid-October. This is not unusual, but anyone who lives anywhere near here must post something pertaining to the weather. I realize that, despite avoiding Facebook, I am now just as guilty for posting something on my blog.

Hey world, you already know this, but it's snowing in Colorado! Still! As predicted! Foretold, and continuing to be told via any social network you should choose to subscribe to, plus weather.com. I just don't want it to go crazy until The Funasaurus gets home.

* * * * *

I have discovered Pinterest. Fuck me now, I did not need another way to kill time on the internets. I'm so addicted.

* * * * *

Little child-interaction tip from me to you, if a parent (say, me) asks their child (say, Miss Thang) something asinine like "What sound does a train make?" do not jump in and say, "CHOO-CHOO! Miss Thang, does a train say choo-choo?" Uh, yes. Thanks. I'm so glad YOU know what sound a train makes. That's exactly why I asked. And the reason Miss Thang is now staring at you blankly is because she knows that you have already answered the question. There is no reason for her to go on with this silly trick.

This kind of thing happens more regularly than you'd think. Give a parent a little credit, odds are good we're not going to ask our kid a question like that if we aren't fairly certain they'll be able to answer correctly. We tend to like to make our kids look good. We also expect that you, as kind-of well-adjusted adult already know the answer to such a thing.

* * * * *

Enough snark. Most people are lovely to my lovely child and all is well. Also, I sleep a little more these days, so = happy, except I would sleep a lot more if it weren't for Pinterest. Darn you, brilliant, brilliant web of everything mind-numbing thing I could ever want to look at. So pretty it makes the minutes on the clock tick by magically fast.

My Brain Has Exploded Just a Little

I'm pretty lame these days, which is whyfor the lack of writing. HEY INTERNETS, I WIPED UP MORE POOP TODAY! Woot woot.

Miss Thang is awesome, but we are still struggling with sleep. It comes and goes. Right now it's basically gone, and I am pretty sure that as of tonight, I've snapped. Hence the 3:00 AM posting. I haven't slept yet tonight, so after four hours of sporadically lying in bed (mixed in with getting up to get the baby [is she a baby still? She's practically two]) every 45 minutes or so) I decided to get the fuck up out of bed and troll the internet for new entertainment (FOUND) and maybe write a blog post. Here I am! Taking advantage of my sleep deprivation to check in with the ol' computer.

Boy, am I going to be a joy to be around tomorrow!

I wish I had exciting news for you, but I don't. Our recent weeks have involved a quick trip to Michigan, wherein we had a nice time and Miss Thang's tenuous sleep routine was smashed to hell. Then we came home and re-found a semblance of a routine and then Miss Thang got a cold and said routine got re-smashed to hell. Also, doctor visits with a kid whose long-term memory is developed just enough to remember shots. So...fun.

Um. I've tried to make a few pies with varying amounts of success this summer. Any attempts at Martha Stewart-ing were completely undone by the state of my kitchen after those forays into baking. Also it turned out that neither The Funasaurus nor Miss Thang like pie, so I ate a lot of pie myself. The lack of non-maternity pants that still fit indicate that perhaps my next foray should be salads. With no dressing or bacon bits.

That's about it for now. Off to have myself a little dance party with iTunes set on SUPER UBER LOW so that one toddler does not wake again, since sleep still eludes.

I am sorry I am not funnier. I will try again before another month goes by. Did you clink on the link up there? That will make up for all my lack of funny. Seriously. Here's another. CLICK!

Justification, Presented as Catching Up

Hi. I realized I skipped July there. I'm guessing I didn't have time to blog because I spent a lot of time cleaning up summer-related things, a la popsicles, sand, mud, chalk, sunscreen, and chardonnay. Happily, chardonnay does not stain as much as winter-related wine.

I decided to stay home with Miss Thang. No more work. There's even been a lull in the freelance stuff I was doing, and I am more than fine with it. I've come to the realization that I don't have as much energy as the rest of the world seems to have. I am too tired at the end of the day to cram in everything I'd need to do if I were to go back to work. I made it happen before, but at a price. I sucked at my job, I sucked at parenting, and our hangers rotted in our (un-vacuumed) closet as our clothes rotated between various laundry baskets and heaps on the floor. Somehow other families (let's be honest, women) manage to do it all. I don't know how. I admire them. I would like to be them. But if I have the luxury to choose between getting it all but sucking at it, or picking one and doing well, then I pick hanging out with my daughter. Enter: endless popsicle cleaning. I am not bored. I am aware that plenty of people would be, but it takes all kinds, right? I am settling into the fact that I am not so deep and think-y as I thought I was. And I get I'm lucky to have the choice. It's been the right one.

Enough about ME. How are you, blog-land?

Conundrum

I have a decision to make in the next 24 hours. To go back to work or not to go back to work, that is the question. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to brave the slings and arrows of outrageous Excel spreadsheets or take arms against a sea of laundry; and by opposing end them? To die: from lack of sleep.*

But hey! Paycheck! That'd be nice.

Meanwhile I'm enjoying the heck out of the summer. Miss Thang and I went for coffee this morning. Specifically, I sipped a decaf latte in the shade while she tried to eat bird feathers off the patio floor. Extra protein, yes? She wouldn't eat any of the bits of breakfast burrito I offered her. Picky eating is a fickle thing.

We've also started dance classes, which are a hoot. I realize that by dressing her in the most ridiculous, gauzy pink thing that Target sells and forcing her to learn to curtsey she will inevitably refuse to wear anything but black and brood in dark places where there is no blasphemous dancing, but right now I'm bigger so I get to call the shots. And outfits. And it is so freakin' cute it's worth it.

Also, my friends are all having babies again. We are not on that train, but I am super excited for everyone who will someday get to dress their darling in gauzy pink things that will set the groundwork for their wee one's future therapy sessions. It's really super fun after they get past the squishy, cry-y, don't-really-sleep phase. (And a special, huge welcome to Miss EAS. Love you and your parents very much!)

Sincerely,

PiG

* So, so sorry for the uber besmirching of your quote Mr. Shakespeare.

Hello Again

Ooopsie, sorry to leave things hanging with that last bah-humbug-y post. Short-ish version of the story, my friend had to cancel on a very precious girls night out sans kiddos, and The Funasaurus was headed out to Ruby Tuesdays with Miss Thang to meet a friend. He offered that I should join them, but I declined. I am usually flexible, but I had my sights set on cozy wine bar, not loud, obnoxious greasy chain restaurant. (No offense to Ruby Tuesday-lovers. It's just that restaurant sucks.) So I stayed at home and nursed a bottle of Chardonnay (and by "nursed" I mean "KILLED") on the front porch and read my copy of Let's Panic About Babies, which is awesome. Also, if I lent that book to you in a drunken fit (another night) can you give it back? I didn't mean to lend it out. Drinking makes me uncharacteristically generous.

I got over myself though, and have been having more fun, which is perhaps why I haven't posted. Enjoying life apparently leaves less time for blogging. I took Miss Thang on a trip to visit relatives and friends back east all by m'self. It wasn't as hard as everyone made it out to be, although I certainly missed my Funasaurus, and you can bet I all but threw the baby at him when I saw him at the airport. Turns out eleven days of being completely and totally out of your comfort zone and routine is about four days too long for my toddler. Who'd have guessed? (Hint: not this superstar mom.) Otherwise, though, trip = pretty awesome, and Miss Thang, all things considered (including ironically-said superstar mom) handled herself exceptionally well.

Now we're back, busting into summer, battling over the kiddie pool, sunscreen, and wake-up times. Turns out I suck because I won't let her get up with the sun at 5:15 A-freakin-M every day. WASTING PRECIOUS SUMMERTIME, THANKS MOOOOOM.

Ahhh, good to be back.

That Is All

At least I'm not at fucking Red Robin.

Explanation to come when I'm more friendly and less drunk.

This May Have Just Happened

I am tired and sitting at the computer when I should be asleep. But I don't want to go downstairs and deal with the dishes and cat litter and everything else that needs dealing with before I can sleep. I passively had the thought that I could eat something dessert-y as another means of procrastinating the bedtime routine, and then I thought about how tired I was, and how my skin is really breaking out and I thought, "You know, chocolate doesn't even SOUND good right now. Honestly what sounds better than any chocolate is a nice tall glass of water and a handful of raspberries. That would be so much more satisfying."

Then I realized some hippie demon must have taken over my brain and I dove headfirst into the bag of pastel-colored M&Ms that we are/were saving for Miss Thang's Easter basket.

Where I Provide the W(h)ine

It's been kind of a shitty week, starting with a stomach virus that someone aptly named "Mr. Toad's Wild Ride Through My Digestive Track." Add the bonus element of a toddler who is going through a bit of a clingy phase and insists on sitting on your (my) lap at all times, including the toilet. That's fun.

(I re-read these sentences sometimes and have to wonder if I'm trying to drive away any remaining readership.)

Today I was finally feeling better, so I took Miss Thang for a walk. Halfway to the park, I bent to see if she was o.k., and my phone jumped JUMPED out of my fucking pocket and hopped like a cheap-ass Samsung Easter Bunny into a waste water drain. Naturally last night we had our annual April snowstorm, so the melt had raised the current in said drain, and my phone is so very, very gone.

I kept it together until I got home. Facebook should reunite me with most of the contacts I had in that phone. What is killing me is the loss of a couple of photos and videos. (Well, hundreds of photos and videos, but a few in particular.) I would describe them here, but it will only make me cry again, and I am out of ice cream.

Tangentially: Colorado now carries Blue Bell ice cream! Happily, my stomach has recovered enough from the flu that I ate a pint to assuage my heartache.

I am clearly in a foul mood, but I am sick of seeing that last post. So, here are some unrelated things to take up some space.

New verbiage in our house:

Torny: One part horny, one part tired, full-on feeling of torn-ness. Sadly, The Funasaurus and I often fall on different sides of the torny coin. But it's fun to talk about it in stupid married people code!

MOON! ELMO!: Brought to you by Miss Thang, talking about her favorite YouTube clip. Skip to 1:09. Now imagine me and Miss Thang getting our MOONELMO on.

Things I Do That I Did Not Think I Would Ever Do Pre-Daughter:

1) Share my ice cream

2) Inspect someone else's poop

3) MOONELMO dance sober

4) Fear six-year-old boys and their un-looking-where-they're-going ways

5) And, you know, let someone else wear the tiara around here