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December, 2011

  • Sobriety Sucks

    New Year’s eve is this weekend, and it makes me feel how sobriety can really suck sometimes. I am going on three years of absolutely no addictive substances. No coffee, cigarettes, booze, black tar heroine…. It is hard because most adult connections involving leisure revolves around drinking. Alcohol is the ultimate social lubricant because you lose your self–consciousness, and feel a sense of intimacy with those who are getting plastered with you.

    But being the sober person around people indulging is a really isolating position to be in. You feel like you aren’t having as much fun as your tipsy comrades, and they feel like you are judging them for drinking. I also miss all the antics you get into while being inebriated. You have wonderful ideas like testing the ice in a the middle of a just frozen lake, getting a tattoo of Yosemite Sam, or making out with a stranger who has dried vomit in their hair.

    Maybe I also associate drinking with my youth. Being young and not caring about consequences. I feel nostalgic for those carefree memories of jumping out of a moving car, fighting in public, and waking up with bruises I had no memory of creating.

    Being sober was a life choice I made not because I had substance abuse issues, but my relationship to substances came from a place of trying to escape. Maybe that is the case with everyone, but after doing my 10-day silent meditation retreat we all took a vow around basic moral conduct, one of them being not to partake in addictive substances. So I made this commitment and part of me just can’t help but honor it, even if I bore the crap out of myself on nights like New Years Eve. I may feel lonely around other people, but I feel less lonely around myself so I guess I am going to keep going for another year.

    But for all you who aren’t existentially tortured have champagne for me and get wasted because fuck it can be a ton of fun!!!!! ☺

    HAPPY 2012!!! I hope we have more than 1 year left to live!

    Ahhhh good memories!

    December 30, 2011 • 1 year old, Health, Mommy Mind, Musings • Views: 3487

  • Birthday Magic

    My birthday takes place during the lamest time of the year. Right between Christmas and New Years… today… December 29th. I never got cupcakes at school on my birthday, most people forget and if they do remember I always get joint Christmas / birthday presents, everyone is too tired from the holiday and trying to conserve their energy for the New Year to go out with me and snort coke off a hooker’s tits. It is a tough one. Man… now I know how Jesus must have felt.

    So it is up to me to make my own birthday magic since I do think birthdays are important. Mostly because it is day where you get to celebrate you, which is something I feel really good about. It is a lot like those moments when you are talking about me, or I am talking about me, because it’s times like these where I am actually interested in what’s going on. I used to host massive ecstasy fueled parties for this epic event of my birth, but now I don’t think that is appropriate because The Munch is trying to cut down.

    Where I once thought experiencing my birthday in a blacked out state covered in tears and vomit was ideal, I have come to appreciate seeing this landmark of time as a good opportunity for self-reflection. To look at the person I have been this past year, and create an intention of how that person can improve for the year to come. Usually that involves lying to myself more and wearing dramatic smokey eye shadow on the weekends.

    Yet despite my self-pity and belligerence, there has always been an element of magic to my birthday beyond what I have manufactured. Something will happen to remind me of the mystery of existence and humble me. Last year it was my cat delivering a decapitated mouse on my mediation cushion… but it was beautiful. It was her gift to me because she knew that was the first place I went every morning, and I had already gotten that leather purse.

    My heart has attributed this ethereal magic to my best friend Bitty who died almost 12 years ago. I feel like she makes an effort to remind me that there is so much more to life and death then what we think we know. It is her time to communicate to me, and it is up to me to be aware enough to listen. For instance, last night I had a dream that Grace’s son Calvin pooped on my rug, and this morning I stepped in cat puke on the rug that had the identical consistency to my dream! Happy birthday to me!

    Getting my smokey eyeshadow ready for the weekend! Notice Munch playing in the toilet in the background.

    Uh oh… maybe a little too dramatic…

    “You are right Munch… everyday with you IS magic!”

    December 29, 2011 • 1 year old, Musings • Views: 1877

  • Battling Boredom

    Sometimes being a mom bores the crap out of me. Technically, boredom is a symptom of the weak-minded because if I truly lived in the moment and relished each experience like it was my first and last, life would have an infinitely expansive quality. Yeah, that is all raspberries and leprechaun toes in theory, but it’s a hard practice to implement. What? Who doesn’t like raspberries?

    I love The Munch and of course have times where I delight in her adorableness, but all the repetition, rituals, and learning can make me feel like plucking my armpit hair would be more appealing. The learning especially… I mean seriously kid… the cow goes “moooo” not “meow.” Get it together!

    I used to have a good routine with The Munch where I would read books while she stared at the ceiling because she was an infant that didn’t move around. It was like hanging out with a depressed teenager but with less smoking and more listening to The Cure. But now her playing is a bit more dangerous and akin to suicide attempts, so I actually have to watch and make sure she stays alive. Her idea of a good time is climbing on to the kitchen table chair, then onto the table, then back to the chair, then on the table again, then to the chair, then to the table, then to the chair, and eventually falling down and bashing her head.

    If I try to spice things up by directing the attention towards myself and talking to her about my problems she gives me the same advice every time. Something about socks, wanting more cracker, the cat, the cat, the cat, again with the cracker, more about socks, she looks for her shoes for a bit, then points to her eye and asks me what her nose is 35 times. I mean, what does she mean by all that? She is so cryptic.

    Maybe this will help?

    How about a bowl full of cake?

    Perhaps one more bite will fill this hole in my soul

    December 28, 2011 • 1 year old, Mommy Mind, Musings • Views: 1293

  • Baby Crack—-er

    I think I know why you aren’t supposed to offer babies drugs. They have no will power, zero self-control, and are super annoying when you don’t give them what they want. I think my new idea of hell is being around a baby 2-days sober, just kicking a crystal meth habit, whose trying to quite smoking.

    In The Munch’s case her crack is these “bunny” branded granola bars she calls “cracker.”

    I can make her a meal fit for the Ritz Carleton and she will still point at the cabinet and demand I give her a “cracker.” We can be outside having the time of our lives playing in the snow, juggling fire, as I balance a litter of kittens on my head who are making balloon animals and blowing bubbles, and all that has to happen to ruin our time is for her to think of a cracker. If the word utters past her lips and I don’t pull one out of some orifice immediately a meltdown of epic proportions commences. She will literally fall to the floor like I just told her she came in second place in the toddlers in tiaras pageant crying “cracker, cracker, cracker.”

    And of course, the stupid hippy health food store I buy this baby crack at discontinued ordering them! What is wrong with these dirty-tree humping-lotus tattooed-raw cacao snorting-jerk offs? Can’t they keep their twigs and berries in stock? Thank the multiverse my mom just ordered a box of them so my baby can have her fix!

    “Ahhhhh what is this protective layering over my cracker!”

    Notice the trail of tears on her cheeks… tears of unfathomable sadness because I didn’t open her cracker fast enough.”

    December 27, 2011 • 1 year old, baby brain, Behavior, Eating, Health • Views: 27584

  • Walking In A Winter Wonderland

    I hope everyone had a magical weekend! Mine sure was, if you call explosive diarrhea of the mouth and anus magical! Just kidding. It was more majestic.

    I know a lot of people are especially into christmas, Santa, carols, and all that jazz, but I am still in my terrible two-s so I can’t really appreciate it. I didn’t even get The Munch a present. I know, I know, that is super lame, but she already has a bunch of crap I have to pick up after so I figured getting her more stuff was kinda of like poking myself in the spleen with an infected knitting needle. Besides, she didn’t get me anything so who is really the selfish one?

    But you know what I am nostalgic about? Snow on christmas. It truly is the ultimate accessory, although at times I wish it was purely decorative. You know how weather can just get in the way sometimes. Lucky for me, it snowed right before the 25th, and I thought it was really important to throw The Munch into it so she could have some fun whether she liked it or not goddammit.

    Where is Munchee?

    “I guess this snow stuff is okay. It sure is pretty”

    “Goddammit this shit is slippery. Son of a…”

    I thought both our expressions were really demented and creepy here… I am trying way too hard to be serene, and The Munch seems slightly possessed.

    December 26, 2011 • 1 year old, 1st time for everything, Adventures, Health, Playing • Views: 1584

  • My Problem With Peas

    I never thought this would happen to me. I always thought things would be different. That somehow this wouldn’t ever be my problem. Maybe I was arrogant, or naïve, but now that I am living with this I don’t know what I am going to do.

    I have a child that sticks peas up her nose.

    Is there a support group for this?

    The Munch can no longer enjoy peas while playing around the house because I have to monitor her pea eating as if I were a warden. If I don’t, she will come up to me and say “uh oh… peas” and there will be one lodged in her nasal cavity halfway to her brain.

    They are not easy to get out either, and I sweat like a whore in church while I try to extract them in fear of pushing it up further. Now I am on an anxiety spiral wondering what other produce she will get up there. One thing I know for sure is that I am keeping her away from carrots for a while.

    “So you are saying the only place I can put these things is in my mouth? BORING!”

    “Maybe The Munch has a point… they really are a perfect fit…”

    December 23, 2011 • 1 year old, Adventures, baby body, baby brain, Eating • Views: 1091

  • Brushing Baby’s Hair

    What is the point of having a daughter if she won’t let you do her hair? Every time I try and put The Munch’s Mullet into a ponytail or pigtails, she rips them out within in seconds. What kind of girl doesn’t want her hair looking fabulous? Forget the fact that I haven’t cut my hair in two years and wash it bi-monthly, never mind that I wouldn’t let my mom brush my hair even till this day… where does The Munch get this resistance from having her hair done?

    Because of her consistent rejection and this strange inexplicable urge of mine, I decided that I needed to do her baby doll’s hair. I admit this was bizarre behavior on my part because playing with dolls was never something I was into. I was much more of a GI Joe type of girl in my youth. So needless to say, once I undid the dolly’s hair for me to brush it, I realized things were a lot more complicated than I had originally thought. For one, her hair was a total mess and I could not get a comb through it. Then, The Much kept taking her dolly away because she wanted to play with it.

    “No Munch…. Give me the baby doll…. Mama needs to do her hair!”

    Yeah… so that did not go over well. But now her the dolly’s hair looked insane, and I had to fix it.

    I had to wrestle the doll out of The Munch’s hands, and do my best to make her hair look presentable. Maybe I should just stick to doing my own hair…
    This baby doll’s hair is seriously demented

    “No Ma! Leave us alone! I wanna play with my baby doll!”

    “See Munch, isn’t that better? Don’t you want to be next? Please!”

    December 22, 2011 • 1 year old, Adventures, baby body, Playing • Views: 1648

  • Potty “Training”

    It is hard to believe that someone had to teach you not to crap your pants at one point in your life, but it is true. That used to be your preferred method of evacuation, until some sucker that loved you took the time to instruct you to go in the toilet. They would watch and wait for that distinct pushing look, because part of process is identifying that you have to go at all, and do their best to get you on the throne in time. There is after all a short window of time between pushing, poking, and releasing.

    I decided to start the process of potty training because The Munch knows enough to grab her diaper and tell me “poops” when there is, indeed, shit balls in her pants. Although I have to be realistic because she is barely 1 ½ so I don’t think she will fully get it for a while, but why not make some effort anyway right?

    So far, these are the exciting things that have happened in the past few days that are making me re-think this whole potty training thing.

    Event 1: In order for her to associate the potty with pooping, I tell her that I am pooping every time I sit on it. I drink a lot of water, so as far as The Munch is concerned, I poop about 17 times a day. Of course, a new friend I don’t know that well came over yesterday and The Munch brought her right to the bathroom then pointed at the toilet and said “Mama poops.”

    Event 2: The Munch usually poops first thing in the morning, so I sit her on the potty right away to see if she will go. The other day while I was waiting for her to poop, I had to poop. I took her off so I could quickly go, and of course she ran away with her pants around her ankles. These were not the best conditions to relax into my morning ritual because I was stressing out about where this naked time bomb went, but once you sit down to start, there really is no stopping. Lucky for me, I easily found where she was hiding because all I had to do was FOLLOW THE TRAIL OF POOP she had left behind on the floor like breadcrumbs.

    Event 3: She was playing around in the bath and said to me “poops, poops” and pointed to the toilet. “Yes Munch, you do poops in the toilet.” And then she pooped in the bath.

    “Wait… Ma… can you get me some toilet paper? I am on the phone…”

    Note to self… poo disintegrates in bath quicker than you think

    December 21, 2011 • 1 year old, 1st time for everything, Adventures, baby body, Pee & Poop • Views: 3537

  • Still Got It

    Sometimes you have to test yourself to make sure you still got it. Whether that means, throwing a football as far as you can, skipping a rock on the water’s surface, doing a cartwheel, dressing up cute and making sure someone will still flirt with you even though you are in a long term relationship. It is important to feel like you still got that spunk, that talent, that swagger, that appeal.

    I encountered one of these moments to prove “I still got it” when I took The Munch to her first baby gymnastics class. Now don’t go thinking that my Eastern European roots are taking over and I am getting her prepared for the Olympics, because this was a pretty low key setting. Some balance beams here, a bin of balls there, a newborn practicing her handstand in the corner. No big deal once I made The Munch puke before they weighed her to guarantee she made the cut.

    So as the toddlers were doing such advanced things as sliding down a slide made of blue mats, I turned my attention to the trampoline. Now, I don’t mean to brag, but I used to be amazing at doing flips on the trampoline. Like the best in the universe… ever… better than anyone ever to exist… but like I said, I am not trying to brag, just telling you how outstanding I was.

    I asked my friend Forrest if she thought I could jump on the trampoline because she had been to the program before. Forrest, who of course figured I would just non-showey-offey jump like a normal person, didn’t see why that would be a problem. Little did Forrest know just how ready I was to show off. Oh yeah…

    Of course I start off with the front flip, then move on to the back flip to build up to my 1 1/2 with a twist when the women running baby gymnastics noticed what I was doing.

    “Um, you can’t do that here, you are going to have to stop.”


    Yes the room was painfully quite and everyone looked at me like I was nuts. Yes, I had just gotten yelled at by a grown woman wearing braids and candy cane socks. But yes, I still got it.

    “Pretty sure I still got it too huh Ma… Ma I got it too right? Ma? Ma? Um…. what is “it” though?”

    December 20, 2011 • 1 year old, 1st time for everything, Adventures, Musings, Playing • Views: 1323