Archive of ‘random tuesday thoughts’ category

Random Tuesday Thoughts.

I have been staring at the computer screen for more than half an hour now, trying to think of something interesting to say. But you know what? It’s not coming. It’s just not. So, instead, let’s have some Tuesday Randomness, shall we?

I can’t remember where, but I know I’ve read that a mother is biologically wired to come running when her baby cries. And yet, we’re supposed to let them cry it out when they won’t go to sleep. Can someone tell me how that’s not supposed to feel like torture? Because right now? She’s screaming.  My husband’s glaring at me, telling me to let her be. And I feel like the worst mother in the world.

Also, that thing they call Mommy Guilt? Sucks ass. I hope it gets better as she gets older, because right now, every stupid thing rips me to shreds. You could tell me that baby pandas are dying because I buy her baby food instead of making it and I’d believe you (yes, I know that doesn’t make sense. That’s the point).

And why the hell does it cost $18 to sit on Santa’s lap? That just seems wrong. And not at all in the spirit of Christmas. Yet people stand in line for hours to pay for the privilege of making their child scream with terror at the sight of that bearded stranger…and proudly take home a glorified Polaroid to remember the occasion.

There’s a thing called Photoshop, people. Use it and save yourself the twenty bucks and hours of agony.

Baby update? She’s still screaming.

You know what else seems pointless? Making a Christmas list for an eight month old. Her needs are very few. And at this point, she has very little. You could buy her a set of measuring cups and she’ll be happy. In fact, she’ll be ecstatic when she realizes that all that shiny paper is hers to shred.

My brother is threatening to buy her a drum set. Which I’m kinda okay with. But cymbals? Not so much. Although, I suppose I could use the cymbals to drown out the sound of her screams…

Speaking of Christmas lists, I don’t know what to put on mine. A bottle of Jack Daniels, maybe? A liposuction machine? A winning lottery ticket? I’m going to have to get creative.

The baby is no longer screaming, but only because my husband gave in and went upstairs. I think I’ll take advantage of the silence to check out some of the other linkies over at The Un-Mom. I suggest you do the same.

Random Tuesday Thoughts: The Completely Random Edition


It’s Tuesday, thank goodness. I’ve been totally blanking on topics for today, but because of this lovely event hosted by the Un Mom, I can just blather. Hurray!

I’m pretty much exhausted because we’ve had houseguests for the past two weekends. The last batch arrived Friday, just about the time I was getting home from work, and didn’t leave until yesterday morning. So I had to go from working madwoman to smiling hostess (and back again) in the blink of an eye, with no time to breathe in between.

Not a lot of fun.

And since Tori’s the main attraction these days (with Brian and I coming in a distant 40th), I don’t get to see a lot of my daughter when family is in town.  I try hard to be gracious, and not snap when someone steals her from my arms for the hundredth time, but weekends are the only time I get to see her for more than two hours at a stretch. It’s difficult to share, to say the least. And since I’m not particularly good at hiding my emotions, I’m pretty sure I come off as a raving bitch more often than not.

Don’t mess with Mama Bear. She bites.

Oh, and did I mention I managed to hurt my back in the middle of the houseguest-induced madness? Yeah. You’ll never guess how I did it. No, not by falling. By bending down to plug in the vacuum cleaner. Seriously. One second I was reaching for the outlet, the next I was grabbing my back, howling in pain (and cussing up a blue streak). In front of my in-laws. It was fantastic.

What do you think? Does that mean I’m getting old? I’m fairly certain it does. Soon it’ll be time for support pantyhose and polyester pantsuits.

Does anybody else hate the word pantyhose? I think it sounds gross. Like something you’d use to wash out your undergarments when they’re too filthy for the washing machine. Ewwww.

On the plus side, I actually got some pretty awesome birthday presents this year. Nothing on my handy dandy list (and I was so hoping for the private island in Fiji), but good, nonetheless. I also have a wad of birthday cash to spend. I’m debating between blowing it on a personal trainer, some gym clothes, a sweet pair of boots, or whatever shiny things glitter the brightest when I next visit the mall. 

Any thoughts?

Okay, I think I better stop talking while I’m ahead. If you’re new here, do me a favor and keep scrolling down. I’m better than this, I promise.

And don’t forget to visit The Un Mom for more randomness!

Random Tuesday Thoughts.

It’s Tuesday. Which means its Random Tuesday over at The Un-Mom. And, just for shits and giggles, here too (and that’s all the clever intro you’re going to get).

Yesterday, I drove to Chicago and back (Which adds up to ten hours in the car. No, it wasn’t fun. But I got paid to do it). Well, I didn’t actually drive. I was a passenger being driven to Chicago and back. As we drove home, (in the dark, of course) I decided that the view from the back seat is much better at night. Why? Because during the day, all you see are endless cornfields. At night? The cornfields are hidden, so you can focus on the pretty crescent moon in the sky, and the darting lights of the cars in front of you, and the moronic messages on the brightly lit billboards.

Note to all the billboard writers of the world: There’s a reason they’re supposed to be seven words or less. Any more than that andyourmessagegetslostasIwhizbyat80milesanhour…

Also, when you flash your brights at a truck driver who’s weaving all over the road, expect him to give you the finger. ‘Cause, you know, that sudden flash of light in his mirrors interrupted his nap.

Did you know that in twelve years, seven months and two weeks (or so), I’ll be the parent of a teenager? That’s scary. I wasn’t a fan of teenagers even when I was one. This thought occurred to me while listening to the other women in the car talk about their high school cheerleading daughters. What if Tori wants to be a cheerleader? As far as I’m concerned, cheerleaders are another species. Would I know how to raise one?

Next weekend, we’re making our first trek home to Detroit city with a baby. That’s at least seven hours in the car with an infant who gets antsy (read: ridiculously fussy) after an hour in her car seat. Will any of us be sane by the time we get there?

Last night, Tori woke up at 1:15, then again at 3:15, at which point she stayed awake until 4:25. Is this God punishing me for saying I might not get her baptized?

I think that’s all the randomness I’ve got. Stay tuned for a real post tomorrow…

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