Wednesday, December 31, 2008
For once in my life I actually ordered my school books ahead of time. And I bought five law school books for under $130. Ok I cheated. I learned last semester that having a 12th edition case book is almost exactly the same as having a 13th edition case book. There might be one or two cases that are different but I just compare my old edition book with the recent one in the library for each assignment (or I don't and pretend I do- so far it hasn't hurt me, knock on wood). And the kicker- I pay $1 for the outdated edition on Amazon.com instead of $165 on the brand new one.
I have also already filled out my financial aid paperwork and sent in to my school. And at this very moment, I am filling out my FAFSA. I can't believe how excited I am to return to school! All I have to do is find a way to come up with 15 extra ounces of breastmilk while not starving my baby so that my mom can feed him while I'm at school.
Oh and I have a new baby. I decided to have a funeral for my six year old 15 pound laptop. I have replaced it with a 2 pound EEE PC! It's so incredibly light! Commuting will be a breeze this semester and I might even be able to fit actual law books in my backpack now (maybe two at the most). I'm still getting used to my computer's tiny 10 inch screen (my old laptop had 17 inches of online tv viewing goodness). At first I felt pretty claustrophobic on the tiny screen but I think I'm getting used to it.
Poor Jacob, this laptop is my new baby (and it doesn't require late night feedings or diaper changes).
Sunday, December 28, 2008
In my head, my thoughts were going in all directions BUT the bedroom. At least three times during our session I had to stop myself from making my internal dialogue external.
The night went something like this- ok I exercised my creative license with the sex talk, but don't you wish we talked like this?:
He says: "You're so sexy baby."
She wants to say, "Did you ever send a Christmas card to the Stanleys? They sent us one but I can't remember sending them one."
She actually says: "You make me so hot."
He says: "Is this how you like it?"
She wants to say: "Our cute customized return address labels were delivered today- I can't wait to show them to you!"
She actually says: "oooooh, yeah- like that!"
He says: "You're so naughty- here's your spanking."
She wants to say: "Should I get a sitter for New Year's Eve or should we just hang out at home?"
She actually says: "Spank me harder- yeah..."
And another Mommy Milestone is complete.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
It's the sleep deprivation talking but I'm so frustrated I want to take a bat and smash something. And I'm so freaking tired of hearing about other people's babies who sleep like angels.
I know I need to be patient and just appreciate my time with Jacob but I'm due some serious sleep/me time. And I'd sell my last pair of clean underwear to get it.
Oh wait, I'm wearing them and they have already been reversed for day #2. How the hell do mothers of demanding infants find time to do laundry???
Friday, December 26, 2008
Jacob and Humphrey the Bear.
I completed the bedtime ritual with Jacob- food, books, saying "goodnight" to everything in the house (including the thermostat, Daddy's Cottage Living Magazine, and Mommy's last year's FAFSA paperwork). Then I swadded him, cuddled him, and set him in his crib. We sang a song or two and I watched him play with his hands for a couple minutes. Then I left the room.
For ten minutes the baby monitor sputtered soft sounds of sleepy baby groans. Then...SILENCE. Complete, golden, priceless silence. I peeked back in and saw Jacob sprawled out in his crib fast asleep. He did not cry. Not even once. This is a glorious night. One point for me. Only 119 points for baby.
I think it's true what the say- a consistent bedtime routine at a consistent time each night, and putting baby to bed BEFORE he is tired is the key. We will see what tomorrow night brings.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Eventually you stopped trusting the world and your outlook on life became dark and full of doom.
And it's all because you never got Go Go My Walking Pup!!!
So what toy did
Failure Santa not bring you?
Monday, December 22, 2008
1. I haven't gone on a run since Jacob was one month old. And I LIKE it. I LOVE basking in my laziness. Not running every day is something that would have given me nightmares last year. But the downside? FLAT ASS. Pancake flat. Indiana wheat field flat. Pre-pubescent eight year old chest flat. I ran over a nail with my tire and it's flat FLAT. Yeah. That. Can you inject botox into your ass?
2. It's my husband's favorite time of the month. It's the I've neglected to do laundry like my laundry machine is the center of hate which also happens to increase cellulite and the accessive storage of fat cells and now I only have a handful of thongs left to wear Time of the Month. This is the time when all my lacey, frilly thongs come out of hiding and manage to wedge themselve in places that shall not be named as I go about my daily business.
3. I just happened to be drying my hair this morning in my tank top and a bright yellow thong when husband walked in. I may have crossed my legs and leaned forward provocatively, but that is no excuse for him to land a loud slap across my thigh. Seriously. There is the perfect red outline of a handprint there. And it still stings. Note to self: never try to be sexy while my backside is exposed.
4. Someone at Fred Meyer today happened to forget the Eleventh Commandment. Thou Shalt Not Wear Panties That Sit Higher Than Thy Pants' Waistline- And If Thou Does, Thou Shall Not Bend Over. Seriously people.
4. I was glimpsing through some old college photos on my computer and I realized that I missed my college dance party days. Me and a cross country team mate would sneak into the local bar with fake IDs (one time I was allowed in with my of-age Korean friend's ID). We wouldn't even drink alcohol because if we got caught drinking we would be kicked off our team (we were more scared of our coach than the local authorities who love to crash bars and arrest underage attendees). All we wanted to do was SHAKE OUR BOOTIES. It was a sad but serious case of booty shaking deprivation. You can't keep a good booty shaker down. While completely sober, we would dominate the dance floor and dance crazier than any of the drunkies. And we would compete to see who could slap the most stranger's butts without being caught in the act. (Once you slapped a behind, you had to turn the other way and act completely natural as the victim surveyed the busy dance floor in an attempt to find the perp).
I was awesome as a nerdy, sober college athlete. What? You want evidence?
Sunday, December 21, 2008
I can no longer sleep on my stomache when all of us are sharing our miniature double bed. I have to turn sideways to fit. (Seriously? What kind of married couple still sleeps in a double? Maybe that's how I got pregnant- husband had a wild dream, got excited, rolled over, and OOPS! There was just no where else for his man part to go except for- you guessed it.)
We often have to eat in shifts and it's rare that I get to enjoy a meal without a screaming baby in the background. Dinner time is crabby time.
For someone who is a one-eighth of my size, Jacob generates a TON of extra laundry! Maybe it has to do with the fact that he doesn't know how to NOT (excuse the language) shit himself.
And we have to PLAN sex. PLAN. That is he definition of unsexy right there.
"When Jacob goes to sleep do you wanna do me?"
"Before he wakes up for the first time or the second time?"
"How about the first time so I'm not tired."
"You better NOT be tired you owe me more than five minutes."
"Is the baby monitor on?"
"I thought I heard a noise."
"It's the cats wrestling."
"They will wake him up! Quick, put them in the basement!"
3/4 of the way through the deed:
"I think the laundry machine buzzer is going to go off soon."
"I have to stop it before it wakes Jacob up!"
Amost done with deed:
"Can you finish in less than 60 seconds?"
"The mood. It's dead."
Jacob is finally sound asleep again:
"Let's try this again."
"I'm too tired. But you can help yourself if you want..."
While I was excited to spend a night on the town, going to see the Nutcracker would not have been my first choice. I saw it last year for the first time as an adult and it's just not the same when you are all grown up. But I wasn't about to tell my husband! A night out IS a night out and I want to encourage him to do this in the future-- wink!
Well the joke was on me. He took me to see the Nutcracker but it wasn't your classic ballet. Nope. It was a "Burlesque Nutcracker" in which each scene the actors stripped down to pasties and thongs/banana hamocks and it was all set to swing-style music. The Nutcracker on Crack. It was definately entertaining. I think I saw enough skin to last me the rest of my life.
There were aerialistas
And a risque sugar plum ferry
Next year I might take Grandma.
*pictures courtesy of this man's flickr account
Thursday, December 18, 2008
An hour later, I heard him stirring. Then the crying started. I tried to calm him by patting his tummy and offering him a pacifier but the crying wouldn't stop. UGH. I did not want to have to spend another hour trying to rock him to sleep. There goes my nice evening. So I decided to see if Jacob would quiet down on his own.
20 minutes later, the cries turned into screams. It became piercing. I was frustrated and upset. This was starting to become a nighty thing- Jacob waking up for no good apparent reason to scream his head off. I was getting so fed up with it. As Jacob screamed and thrashed in his crib I began to take it personally, like he was doing it just to piss me off. Each new cry made me angrier. I wanted to throw a stuffed animal into his red, screaming face.
That was it- I needed to leave the room and cool off.
I sat outside his bedroom door for another 20 minutes, anger stewing. When my ears could take no more, I reluctantly went in and picked him up. His face was hot and wet. His hands gathered the fabric of my sweatshirt and he clung desperately to me as if life, itself, depended upon it. His screaming stopped and was replaced with loud gasps for breath. He rubbed his head into my chest and sighed.
I immediately felt horrible. I cradled his shaking body and rocked him to sleep. I would have given anything to communicate an apology to him. To beg for his foregiveness. But he just wrapped his tiny hand around my finger and closed his eyes- as if to say "it's Ok." He's such a simple, little creature. He didn't care that I had abandoned him to cry for what seemed like forever. He didn't even need an apology. All he needed was to be held, by the rotten, selfish Mom.
They say a mother's love is unconditional. Maybe so, but a baby's love is simple and pure. I could never compete with that.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
1) Choose the 4th folder where you store your pictures on your computer
2) Select the 4th picture in the folder
3) Explain the picture
4) Tag 4 people to do the same
NO CHEATING! (cropping, editing, etc!)
At first I thought I woud have to post a really boring picture but then I realized that the second folder I counted contained Adobe files (not a place where I store my pics)- so I got to select the next consecutive folder. This isn't cheating is it? I'm a law student, I know that rules are only as good as their interpretation!
This was taken when my future husband came to visit me the day after I hosted a friend's 25th birthday party. The stars must have been aligned just right for me to convince him to not just wear the tiara, but snap an incriminating picture as well! After this he installed some blinds over my window while wielding a powertool in order to regain his masculinity.
It just so happens, this ties in with the post I was planning for today:
Real men can wear pink. And bows. And lace.
Like father, like son.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
This evening after Jacob was put to bed, I was doing my daily blog reading and listening to a string of holiday melodies. Out of nowhere my husband laughs and says, "You're cute Cee." His statement was dripping with endearing love and light hearted ridicule.
"What? Because I'm listening to Christmas music?" I asked indignantly?
"No because you are singing along to it. By yourself. And it's ridiculous."
I guess I had been singing along to "holly jolly christmas" without even realizing it. But seriously, my singing isn't THAT bad. And I love christmas music. There is just something about knowing all the words to feel-good tunes that elicit childhood memories of Christmases past. Who can listen to it WITHOUT singing along? Only a cold hearted Grinch!
But if my husband thinks THAT is ridiculous, I'm gad he's not home all day to witness me singing boisterously to Jacob (complete with AMAZING dance steps, facial expressions and hand gestures). Jacob LOVES christmas music too. Especially when I sing it!
I have been in a religious funk/crisis this past year. But I pushed my questions, criticisms, and doubt aside for just a minute and soaked in the emotional power of God coming to earth as a baby. And the thought of a human mother bringing him into the world. I hope God showed her some mercy via a miraculous and jumbo-sized Epidural. Maybe he threw in some needle-less morphine shots for good measure?
This is really the first year that I understand the importance and magnitude of Mary's sacrifice. Not only did she carry and give birth to a Very Important Baby- but she raised him to one day witness his torture and death on a cross for millions of thankless souls. That is real sacrifice and I cannot imagine the strength someone like Mary must have had.
I die a million deaths when Jacob gets shots. The thought of him experiencing unpleasantries in the future makes me want to throw my body in front of a bus. Watching FICTIONAL movies in which babies cry gives me a heart attack! How could one woman give up her only son and watch him suffer and die? Only another mother could understand her magnificance. Days like today, I think it's totally fitting to "worship" Mary.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Then I appliqued fabric to the front to make a fun snowman! Completing this one craft project has given me the ego and confidence to run for President of the United States (ok, maybe just of the local 4-H group). Today I mended applique stockings...tomorrow, the economy/deficit/international relations/health care system/environment!
Shhh, Don't tell Jacob that his "J" is off center. He hasn't noticed yet.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
"A nice iron and a subscription to Cottage Living Magazine."
Wait? Am I shopping for my Husband or my mom?
Saturday, December 13, 2008
So the first couple hours of Jacob's life are mysterious to me. I didn't get to be there when father met son. I didn't get to witness his first breath or have the doctors place him directly against my skin as I had dreamed about for eight months. I didn't watch the doctors clean him up. I have NO IDEA what they even did to him during that time. Was he sad? Was he scared?
These pictures are my only window into the first hours of Jacob's life.
Look at that conehead!
And it's amazing to think he went from this:
Friday, December 12, 2008
If you are a innocent undergraduate student of political science, be wary. If you are wide-eyed at the opportunity to intern with THE Governor's Office and thinking about the wonders that experience will do for your resume (even if it IS only data entry), be wary.
You might want to consider whether your governor is susceptibe to criminal behavior and/or political corruption. Or you may find yourself with a ominous black mark on your educational and work history.
Thanks. Alot. Blagojevich.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Good Ol' Mom's advice: soak them in some vinegar.
"Ok," I told her, "I will definately try that next time."
Then I heard my washing machine buzzer go off. I put the pooey clothes on the floor (they were in a bucket remember? I'm not THAT gross) and I ran down stairs to put my clothes in the dryer.
I came back up just in time to watch my mom pour half a bottle of vinegar into the pooey clothes bucket. Then erupted the magical, colorful, bubbling volcano. Because, I forgot to tell my mom that I had already been soaking those clothes in half a box of baking soda.
The result was much like the volcano science projects you make in third grade. Except much pooey-er. Wonderful!
The Frothy Aftermath:
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
There were three Milky Ways in my "candy stash" this morning. I know I have reached into the stash more than once tonight- but really? Three? In one day? It cannot be! There must be some kind of sugar crazed mouse in the house.
Have candy bars shrunk since I was a kid? Or is it just that I am bigger?
There must be some kind of multi-pronged milky way conspiracy going around.
Monday, December 8, 2008
I'm usually quite capable of drowning it out most of the year when I'm preoccupied with my personal responsibilities, daily routine and instant desires. I mean who can think about saving the world when Nordstrom is having it's yearly half off sale or when you are at risk of having the dignity kicked out of you by an ornerous Professor and his deadly Socratic Method. I hate to admit it but the thought of starving children in Africa is kind of a downer when you are enjoying an expensive meal out on the town with your girlfriends.
In the hustle and bustle of everyday, my philanthropic intentions often get pushed to the side and forgotten unless the needs of others are brought directly to my attention. But the holiday season always seems to bring the needs of others (or at least what I PERCEIVE their needs to be) to the forefront. A force of nature constantly drums the back of my head- urging me to do something.
It's like I'm a super hero and my calling is to eliminate the sadness, disappointment, and pain that I perceive in the world. Minor problem: I'm doing a lot of perceiving and not a lot of eliminating. During the holidays I just can't seem to shut off my fountain of empathy. This makes me miserable because often times I lack the means, ability, or the guts to help. I didn't ask for this gift, mind you. It found me. I'm a RELUCTANT super hero.
When I visit my single friends with small children and see how hard they work, I have this heart tugging urge to anonymously send them things they need in the mail. When I found out that my mom was only giving my ten year old brother socks for St. Nicholas Day, I had to run to the nearest toy store, buy something amazing, and beg my mom to give it to him instead (when I was growing up my parents always put a small toy in our shoe on St. Nicholas Day and the thought of my brother finding a disappointing pair of socks was TOO MUCH TO BEAR).
One time in highschool, I saw a Maury episode featuring orphan teens. Ever since, I have been haunted by the fact that there are acne-ridden, hormone crazed teen with behavioral issues out there that need families! After the show, I think I paced around my room for an hour trying to figure out what I could do. Never mind that I was a teenager myself because, seriously, they needed MOMS. FAST. I had to do something! See how traumatizing my human empathy is? To this day Maury taunts me from the back of my mind.
The other day I read an article about how food stamps and WIC benefits are not keeping up with this year's food inflation. One woman told the reporter that she often had to go hungry so she coud afford to feed her young daughter. My mind almost exploded. People are going hungry, people! We have to do something! It was all I could do to stop myself from taking my MasterCard and buying baby formula for all the families within driving distance of my house.
See. There is so much need. And, aside from participating in the various Secret Santa charity programs, so little I can do at this very instant. It's heart breaking. Families are hungry. Children will not get toys for Christmas. People are losing their jobs. And I can do nothing but keep thinking about it.
Maybe this is why I need to be in law school. Not only will all the hours of studying fry my brain and make it impossibe to think about anything but finals. But when I graduate, maybe I can do some good. Help change some laws. Represent the needy. Save the World. And then maybe I can go to bed at night during the holidays.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
It ended up being a dual baptism. But, all in all, there were three babies in attendance. I think when we weren't looking the babies met up at Burger King and ordered Whopper Jrs. with extra Mayo. Because right before the ceremony, the three of us moms found ourselves bathing our babies in the church's bathroom sink, trying to erase remnants of Major Diaper Blowouts from our children's bodies and clothing. This ALWAYS happens when I decide not to bring an extra change of clothes.
Natural Law of Baby #1: the one day you aren't prepared for your baby to poo all over himself because he has been constipated for four days and, really, what are the chances that he'll go NOW?, is the exact day your baby will let loose four days worth of buttery popcorn smelling poo over any objects within a three foot radius.
But you know, it could have been worse. Jacob could have pooed in his beautifully white baptismal gown and down the priest's robe mid-candle lighting. Talk about Holy Shit. Sorry, I couldn't help it.
Does anyone know a secret to getting mustard colored poop with a delightful seedy texture out of baby clothes? I have a bucket filled with soiled clothing just hanging out in the bathroom and it's starting to become a problem. The poop won't rinse out and there is no way I'm scrubbing that shit (literally). I soaked them in cold water and baking soda but the stains won't come out. Maybe I should dye them all mustard yellow?
Side Note: is it creepy and pedafilish to request that the kids you used to babysit be your Facebook friends? What if you think they have became incredibly hot teenagers? Really, in like 50 years, that ten year age gap will be SO COMPLETELY negligible, right?
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Now I'm officially taking the following classes*:
UCC Sales and Secured Transactions
I will have class all day Tuesday and Thursdays (from 9am to 6pm). But that gives me the rest of the week to play with Jacob instead of doing my homework!
*We are still taking one class together. But I think I will really like that class so I'm not letting her take it away from me!
Her love affair with the kitchen continued in her spare time (i.e. when she was supposed to be reading casebooks). Cee made spicey pumpkin breads and to-die-for tamarind chicken. She whipped up delicious blackberry cobblers and pan roasted exotic moroccan steaks. Cee was in heaven. She was having fun. So MUCH fun, in fact, that Cee felt she must be doing something a little bit naughty (the Catholic in her).
One day Cee got pregnant. She decided to take a semester off of law school to
Then Cee actually had her baby. And she found that she was suddenly missing one hand. Where did it go? It was constantly tucked under the smellier side of That Baby. That Crying Insomniac Baby. But Cee didn't let That Baby get in the way of her Kitchen Lust. Cee continued to chop onions and measure spices and peel potatoes and mix cookie dough with her one free hand.
Cooking with one hand is very hard and can even interfer with one's motor skills. And sometimes, having a baby over your shoulder can impair your vision. That is why Cee often had to explain to The Husband why gooey chocolate chips, minced garlic or marinated capers found their way onto That Baby's head and inside That Baby's clothing. That is also why Cee's culinary creations are now sometimes left untouched by her dinner guests. (NOTE: Husband is not so lucky. He must eat the food on the table or STARVE. So what if he gets indigestion. It's called a "Marital Hazard").