The Tuesday Shuffle


***I came into my office this morning 10 minutes late, having only ingested a Starbucks doubleshot, and found ten students waiting for me to help them get into classes. Fun!

***I’m four episodes into the first season of Bones and I am digging it. I never thought I’d like a “crime drama” but I find myself interested in the unraveling of stories and the characters are intriguing as well.

***Also on the queue: Angel, Buffy, (notice the trend?)  and Mtv’s The State, which was hilarious.

***You must click on this link. It will make you chuckle.

***After a weekend without my oldest son (almost 3) and having a party for my husband, I realized this morning that we didn’t have much in the way of lunchbox food. We had a whole lot of potato chips, leftover pizza and beer. I don’t think daycare would be happy to see that in his brown bag, eh?

***Our waiter ran out to our car last night after we left Carrabba’s because we left Elliot’s sippy on the table. I am always surprised and touched by that kind of kindness.

***When work gets really busy I eat like total garbage. Yesterday I had: iced latte and a granola bar, a hot dog and a half tea/half lemonade, another granola bar, then at least I had a real dinner (lobster mac and cheese). Today’s no better: the aforementioned doubleshot and a pb&j sandwich. I have nothing else with me and I teach during my lunch break. I feel really awful about it since I am pumping; Isaac’s milk is going to be a little less nutritious, I guess.

***I have a million and one things to do and all I really feel like is going home and cleaning my damn house

Sad clown

I am unhappy today. In the past, I sometimes let my emotions get the best of me but lately, well – after having kids – I have really balanced out. Maybe my hormones changed or something but I find that I don’t get all choked up and upset at basically nothing anymore. Maybe I’m too busy now! But either way, I am feeling that old blue feeling today, the kind where the sadness is welling up right behind my calm cool facade, right behind my uncaring eyes.

Last night was Ash’s party and it turned out very nice. About twenty people came and we had a good time. It wasn’t amazing like parties past but successful anyway. Ash got pretty wasted with his friends and that was pretty much what he wanted. This morning, he didn’t feel great but he thanked me a few times for throwing the party and just giving him that gift. And then he up and went to play cards. And the more I thought about it, the sadder I got. Because I kind of thought he and I would go out today, enjoy the simplicity of having only one child for the time being. I thought maybe he appreciated me enough. Maybe it has nothing to do with that. But I was hurt that he didn’t even think to ask if it bothered me. Well, it kind of does. But on the other hand, I am angry about it and rather he not be here to see that. Would rather sulk alone.

I hate feeling this way; wish there was something that would magically take away the hurt and pressure in my chest, the ache in my throat. I want to buy stuff but I know that material things don’t make the intangible go away. I want to lift myself up by the bootstraps and be happy and go out and buy food and make a nice dinner for us. But neither of us really deserve that. And I have no money.

I blame the full moon for all of this.

Switch it up

A Sunday Scribbling prompt

There isn’t anyone I would want to swap lives with. However, if put to it, I guess I would choose… any one of my friends who is married with kids. For one day, I would love to see how they handle all the little mundane things. Do their kids wake them up at 6:30? Do they stumble through the day with TV arguments and time outs and Target outings and decisions, fights, fun times, etc? I’d love to see how their husbands react to these times and how they end their days. Do they crawl into bed with their husbands once the kids are asleep or is one checking Twitter while the other plays video games? I’d probably figure out that we all have magical moments with our family and not-so-perfect times and that we all struggle. In fact, it would probably be a really great thing to experience in a sort of “grass is always greener way.”


This week has been all kinds of wonky. For starters, I had a to-do list about as long as my arm. It included things having to do with Elliot’s departure to my parents’ house and then Ash’s birthday party that I am throwing him tomorrow. Throw in there being back to work and getting ready to teach my summer class and I have just been BUSY all freaking week. I think it was Tuesday or Wednesday that I had a physiological response to my mental anguish. I started to feel the kind of woozy one gets from either too much booze or too much caffeine. I was a little shaky, a little buzzy, and I started to then get a headache. I went home early and promptly fell into a coma-like sleep, barely waking when the boys got home. I was suddenly lots better though, thankfully.

Ash and I drew up a list, by day of the week, so that all these tasks could get accomplished and I wouldn’t pop one of the veins in my forehead; because I was really starting to freak out. So yes, Elliot left with my parents yesterday; got him all packed up like a big boy and I even made him carry his suitcase to the car (pics to follow). I miss him but I am enjoying the relative quiet his absence affords. Oh and the morning routine? So much easier with just Isaac. Mostly because Isaac – knock on wood – has become a laid back kid. He wakes up all smiley and just chills while I get ready.

On my plate for tonight is shopping for party food and cleaning the house, which is the part that will both rock and suck. I like to clean but Ash wants to help so he’ll kind of be in the way, even though he’ll make the work go by faster. I tend to like to take on the cleaning solo because it gets done the way I like it to be.  Maybe I’m a spaz about this but there’s a method to my madness.

So yeah, tomorrow I have to run in the AM and then make sure our deck is ready for the party. God, I hope people show up, especially those who have said they would. That’s always the thing that worries me; no one coming and we’re stuck with lots of food and drink. Let’s hope that just doesn’t happen.

Hope y’all have a good weekend.

Little of this, little of that


*** For starters, I never tire of seeing this photo. Ever.

***Father’s Day was really good. I ran up and got bagels for breakfast, Ash got to nap and Elliot played with toys. The two of them went to see Toy Story 3 together while I cleaned (and Isaac napped). Then we had hibachi for dinner. Elliot pooped in the potty. Then ate a chocolate chip cookie and that was a mess. We also gave daddy one of these. Pretty nifty.

***I gorged myself on sushi yesterday and I liked it!

***I got a phone call yesterday and I answered it, even though I didn’t recognize the number. It was something like a 272 area code. It took a minute for the person to start talking and it was a man, with what seemed to be a Spanish accent. He said hello then his name which was difficult to hear. And then he said,

“…and I’m calling from Death Row.”

I feel awful for hanging up but it was my first reaction.

To the dude who somehow called me from Death Row, I am sorry.

***I upped my mileage to about 3.3. miles. The run’s not bad; there’s only one big-ish hill. Songs I added to my playlist to help me get through it: “Love and hate” – Blitzen Trapper, “Through the fire and flames” – Dragonforce, and “Nothing’s gonna stop us now” – Starship.

***I always ALWAYS chuckle at videos of sloths.

***Rewatched IronMan last night and you know, I should really go back and read those comics. But I am way behind on my reading as it is.

***Baby Isaac slept from 9:30 until 5:45. Oh HELLS yeah.

That’s it for this week. Get on with ya randomness elsewhere, yo.


A Sunday Scribblings prompt


Sunday Scribblings

Isaac was born almost ten weeks ago. I was sitting on the floor of his nursery, watching him pinwheel his appendages about while laying on a very plush blanket. He cooed and whooed and gurgled, smiling at me now and then. And I started to think about how, when you’re pregnant, the impending birth seems like a Big Deal. THE biggest deal of the entire 9-10 month process. It’s scary to think about, even as a second time mom, but then, in an instant, it was over and I had this squabbling little alien creature in my arms. Then time progressed in the manner it always does – you can neither speed it up or slow it down – and here we are at ten weeks and the birth itself is but a memory, all soft focus and fading. The pain involved doesn’t register in my brain as a trauma like it did right after Elliot was born. It almost seems now like a pleasant experience, even though the body suffers in special straining ways. And suddenly he’s this real baby who’s eating like a champ, sleeping at least 7 hours a night and things are much easier now.

I was in such a hurry when I was pregnant for him to hurry up and get born but I should never wish away the time. He’ll be a year before I know it. The 3, 5, kindergarten, high school… college.


Things, lately

  • Back to work and it’s startlingly calming to be behind the desk, plugging away at little tasks. I feel very zen about it.
  • I have become reacquainted with Pandora. I created four stations so far: Frank Sinatra, Evanescence, Whitesnake, and Tom Petty.
  • I feel at a loss without a book to read. Thinking of either reading some YA fiction or some graphic novels of the vampire persuasion.
  • Two restaurants on and around campus closed while I was on leave. It’s like a ghost town around here.
  • Think I am going to take this class starting in July.
  • Although Isaac is sleeping regularly from about 9-4, I am still really tired. It could be the running and/or not getting enough calories. Maybe the running coupled with the breastfeeding.
  • On that note, I seem to be shedding the fat from my sides pretty quickly. Running may suck big fat dick but man, it will help you lose weight.
  • My mother and I are in the midst of an on-going argument. It’s wearing on me.
  • I’m diggin’ this song, even though it’s kind of shallow and falls into that horrible category of songs where some guy wants to be rich because he thinks that’s the answer to his problems.
  • Hotter than the blazes here. Nothing like sweating from places you didn’t even know could sweat. Hello, Florida summer.
  • Father’s Day is right around the corner and have I sent any cards or bought any gifts? NOPE.
  • Have NOTHING planned for the weekend and it’s the first in a long time like that. Ahhhh…

What you see is not what you get

This is *not* the post I expected to put here. I was en route to the bathroom when I was stricken by a wonderful blog idea. Then I walked out of said bathroom, bumped into a friend of mine, and when we parted at his office, I had already forgotten my grand idea.

So instead, let’s talk about appearances, first impressions and identity.

I sometimes have difficulty wrapping my head around exactly who I am and how people view me. Whilst listening to the classic song “Pepper” by the Butthole Surfers I stopped to ponder the lines: “You never know just how you look/Through other peoples’ eyes.” And you truly don’t. It’s not that I am concerned about what people think – not necessarily – but I wonder what they DO think as they view me.

For one, I drive a Honda Element. A lot of folks tend to think of this as a “green” car or associate it with hippies. I don’t really consider myself all that nature friendly. I mean, I do my best to recycle and I take my reusable bags to Publix. But I don’t think hippie fits the bill. But add onto that rock climbing, which is definitely dominated by the hemp wearing/patchouli smelling crowd. SO, if I were to roll up to Railroad Square in my Element and get my boulder on, I could me lumped into the does-not-bathe/rolls a joint after a good climb category. Alas, I’m not.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, I am a mother. But when I look in the mirror, I don’t consider myself to look old enough nor dress classy enough to me a mom. OK OK, not all moms dress that way; I see a lot of mom jeans out there (pleats… ::shudder::) but I guess what I see doesn’t register as “mom.” And yet, I have a kid who is almost three and one who is two months today. Mommin’ is almost old hat by this point. I have a firm grasp on how to juggle a carseat, my keys, a grocery bag and a small grubby hand so that we can maneuver the parking lot at 5:30 PM and try not to get smooshed by frantic Panera patrons. Diaper blow-outs? No problem. I usually have some kind of wipe or cloth on me somewhere, if not there then in the console of the Element. My office has a few pictures; prime examples of the kids and their cuteness only. Nothing over the top, not too many gaudy frames or anything. I balance the kids’ pics with and equal amount of Batman and Married to the Sea comics.

Who would guess that a 31 year old mom, unassuming but not glaringly DORKY, would be a comic collector? If you were to get your hands on my thumb drive, the collection of images would astound you. Most of them are pictures from comics that I have collected over the past couple years. Mostly Batman, mostly pics of my favorite characters, and some fan art. However, this is juxtaposed with pictures I have taken of random things like contrails in the sky, my burger at lunch, and my children. Oh, and vamipres.

So another aspect of me is that I totally fell into the pop culture phenomenon that has resurrected itself lately. I remember in the early 90s when Anne Rice stuff conjured a following but now, god, everyone is into vamps. True Blood, Vampire Diaries… Twilight for Pete’s sake. I wrote about it some on here but Lord knows I never meant to EVER read a romance novel, let alone of the paranormal persuasion. Is this what happens when you become a mom in your thirties, or what? At first, I was self-conscious about this but now, I can walk right into that romance section at Borders without so much as a sideways glance. I have learned to accept the truth.

Truth is, everyone is so much more than their outward appearance or their car or their job. Still, I don’t know if I can even define myself in just a few words. Any time I set up a blog or something similar and it has the “about me” box, I pretty much just end up spewing all the odds and ends about myself there, hoping they come together to form some kind of semblance of my whole package.

So, how do you see yourself? What aspects of your appearance are deceiving to who you really are or think you are?

Firsts and lasts

Today, Sunday, is my last day of maternity leave. It is with little regret that I return to work but a small part of me will indeed miss the time Isaac and I have spent together, just him and I. I’m feeling very… emotional today, though that is not the right word. Realizing that I am about to go back to work and begin again to balance all of these parts of my life has given me this added patience and understanding for Elliot, for Isaac. I am feeling more attached to Ash today, too; more of that “we’re a good team” vibe. When I kissed him goodbye, as he left for Magic, I felt stronger, able to cope with all of… this. Even though it’s about to get a hell of a lot more complicated.

I have two weeks to catch up on work and get ready to teach class. Though, summer is always pretty easy. I cannot truly express how much I am looking forward to going back to work. It may sound heartless but I like the balance that work provides. My job allows me to feel fulfilled in a completely different way than being a mom. This, however, is the time in my life when I pay my dues. Things are so busy and I have to juggle more balls than may seem humanly possible. Our world is rushed, noisy, chaotic and leaves little time for calm and quiet. But I love it and I wouldn’t trade it. Ok ok, this has been all too cheesy. Moving on!

My parents’ visit this weekend was fun but stressful, to me, but I couldn’t tell you why. Maybe a combination of my ever present guilt over numerous things coupled with the ceaseless kid noise. Maybe I’m just sad that I finished my book. Or that I have about two more weeks until I get paid. Or maybe it’s this heat; 96 every day this week and increasing humidity. I can handle high temps but the humidity that makes you sweat as you walk to the mailbox is just killer. I wanna sucker punch mother nature on those days, especially when I’m running. My lungs are pissed about that humid air. I am glad they’re gone but miss them as well.

The boys and I ventured to Target and Tropical Smoothie before this impending storm. Elliot was good at first then loud as a bullhorn in Target’s aisles. We’ve finally reached a point where he announces – loudly – that he has farted. Sigh. I never saw myself as the mom who would have to quell a child with  a megaphone voice, telling him not to announce his bodily functions. Sigh, again. I know it shouldn’t matter but it’s episodes like that that make me thankful for books and running: my two escapes. Thank the Baby Jesus for vampire novels and the great outdoors.

SO, back to “normal” tomorrow, though the morning routine will need to integrate Isaac’s new place. I probably won’t have time to get coffee in the mornings anymore; something will need to be done to rectify this problem. I’ll need to start buying Starbucks from the grocery store. But that can be done. No worries. I’m on the precipice of a new chapter in my life. Teetering. Don’t push me… not yet. I have about 14 more hours.

Mind, body, spirit

My shins have a very dull almost unnoticeable ache as I begin the ascent. From Phillips road until the intersection of Blairstone and Miccosukee the hill reaches up and up until my calves and the backs of my thighs burn in a way that is both exhausting and rewarding and almost exhilarating. I push onward because I know that once the burn sets in, the fat is melting away. I can already tell a difference in my hips; I have only been running for three weeks.


The single minute after I first wake to the day is covered in a sleep deprived fog. I can see Ash shuffling about our room in the dim morning light but the sounds are muted and my brain cannot rouse itself. A small portion of my mind compels me to get up, take care of business. But a larger part begs, pleads, coerces my body to keep sleeping, keep relaxing, grasp at the few moments of rest I have all to myself. Then I hear Elliot’s little voice, wondering where I am and then Isaac’s soft crying. I’m up, zombie-ing my way down the hall and beginning a day that has little to do with myself but more with what I can give to my family.


I have never been “addicted” to anything. I drank in college – a lot – but knew when to stop. I used to smoke clove cigarettes but only when I drank or was in mixed company. I am a coffee drinker. Not until I had two children – one only two months old – did I first feel that overwhelming addiction. The first pull from the venti iced vanilla nonfat latte is like pure gold on my tongue and sunshine sliding down my throat. My synapses start firing and my eyes can see for the first time all morning. Never before had I been acutely aware of how my body was reacting to the stimulation, how thankful it was for the get up and go. It needs this; I need this.