Roots wear, Chickens, and 24 is now a good number

Frankly, I'm sick to the death of those damn chickens. But they can keep The Goose occupied for quite some time. Here he is in his Canadian ROOTS hooded sweatshirt. We're leaving for Austin tomorrow and if we weren't then I might be headed south to Costa Rica to work at a petting zoo (where at least there I know everyone's name). This mommy stuff is hard, hard work folks. Don't let those playground mommies fool you. They go home and they collapse into heaps of running eye make-up and Target mommy clothes, just like me. They yell ridiculous things at their Husbands ... like, "THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT. ALL OF IT!" But they put on that pretty park face and say, "Isn't it great when they're toddling around and not crawling anymore?!??!"

And they're right.

Sometimes.

I just wrote a Goose Bumps post that included the line, "The Devil Wears Gymboree," in case you're interested in reading more about happenings at public parks with playgrounds.

This morning we awakened to find sack of 24, count 'em, twenty-four, veinte cuatro CDs outside our front door. One of the other rangers has a Husband who works at a record label. He knows Reba, people. He's met her. He put one of her CDs in the mix, but did you read what I wrote? TWENTY FOUR CDs! In a sack on our front porch. I was just saying the other day that we need to get some new CDs and LO! THE LORD GOD HATH PROVIDETH. Ask and you shall receive!

Previously I viewed the number 24 as a "bad" number, given that it is four sixes. And everyone knows that three sixes is the mark of the beast. But now I've had a REVELATION. HA HA HA. If you got that, then yay for you ... you must have been Baptist at some point in this life or another.

We're off to Texas tomorrow. Pappaw is in the hospital. I don't have anything else to say.

On the matter of endorphins

Can you buy some in a bottle and pop them like pills? They do wonders, these little natural things. Today I was all in a funk and then went on a hike and all of a sudden life was so beautiful and the leaves! Red, orange, yellow! And there was all this peace and calm in my mind instead of what I woke up with. I may have to start hiking several times a day. I just wanted you to know that today is good and I am enjoying hanging out with the Little Tyrant Goose Creature. Not everyday is like yesterday, thank the good lord.

Happy Friday!

In Which Kim Complains About Things

I have ANOTHER bacterial throat infection. This time I am boycotting antibiotics because I know that the more I take them, the less they will work for me and that avian flu virus is coming, y'all. It's on its way. Not that antibiotics would work for that anyway, since it's a virus. But still. It's just that whole antibacterial, antibiotic, antiseptic antagonism that I harbor. I think it may be getting just an eensy bit worse, along with my commitment to cleaning the sink with baking soda every other day. Yeah. And then today after my discussion with the doctor about All Things Unrelated to My Bacterial Throat Infection (which included, but is not limited to, Johns Hopkins University's program for “gifted” kids, corpus linguistics, the novel Tom Jones by Henry Fielding, and how it’s important for kids to build up their immunity by being around other kids so that they don’t miss too much of their elementary school experience), I got lost trying to leave the building. Just follow the damn EXIT signs, stupid.

Anyway …

The Goose took a long afternoon nap today and instead of resting like any normal Person with a Bacterial Throat Infection would do, I sat right here in this desk chair and googled ridiculous things and read the online articles in Yoga Journal. One such article was all about how to bring intention and caring and focus to your everyday duties (such as laundry, diaper changing, plotting against your Husband, etc.) and how this would bring calm and tranquility to your otherwise angst-filled life. Picture Kim having self-revelations and nodding in agreement and committing herself to practicing yogic principles in all aspects of her life. And then picture Master JEB The Goose awakening from his nap and relentlessly tormenting her ALL AFTERNOON LONG. And then picture Kim losing her patience and forgetting to breathe and RANTING and RAVING while the prosciutto and green pea linguine turned into corn starch mush. And then picture Husband walking in to see this Award Winning Mess of a Kitchen and a Wife and innocently saying, “What’s going on?”

So I started going off. I went off for quite a while (surprisingly, it is possible to speak really loudly when you have a Bacterial Throat Infection). And then when I finished listing all the annoying things that my child had done (none of which he EVER does when anyone else is present), The Goose rolled into the room on his cart, looked up at his father, and (I swear to God), said, “I did not.”

Husband looked at me and said, “Did he just say, “I did not”?

I’m not kidding. I am serious. He will never say it again, but he said it tonight, and he meant it, and I know that he is out to get me.

Of late, I have been thinking (ok, obsessing) about how difficult it is for me, this job of mothering. I said to my mother-in-law the other day that, “It just sucks” to have to do things like pick up individual rice pieces off of the floor because have you ever tried to sweep up cooked rice? And she said, “Well, it’s not so much that it sucks, it’s just really hard work and no one can really prepare you for it.” But still I think that in my mind, IT REALLY JUST SUCKS. It sucks to have to clean up the entire high chair (seat, back, bottom, straps, tray) and the floor around it multiple times a day and to have to wipe a butt attached to a writhing, screaming creature who one day will be unaware of all of my sacrifice. And PEOPLE, I have it good. I am lucky … he has no physical disabilities that we know of, no developmental delays, NOTHING. And in addition to that, Husband is here ALL THE TIME. We live at his job, so he’s here for breaks and lunch and often he goes in to work really early and is home by 2:30 p.m. What am I complaining about? This is the torment of my mind. It’s like I have a little angel on one shoulder saying, “Ah yes, how lucky, how blessed, how beautiful is your life, Kim.” And on the other shoulder is the red, horned devil saying, “You are not fit to be a mother because you complain about asinine things like ground-into-the-carpet cheerios and sticky apple-juice fingerprints on everything.”

WHY CAN'T I JUST BRING ATTENTION TO MY BREATH AND TO MY HEART WHERE IT IS QUIET AND CHANT SOMETHING ABOUT OM SHIVA AND THEN SAY NAMASTE AND HAVE IT ALL BE OK???

And so while I was at my stroller fitness class the other day (Mommies in Motion!), I was yik yakking about this topic and saying how I am bowled over daily by the level of difficulty I have in simple tasks such as putting on pajamas while simultaneously trying to prevent a major fall off of the changing table or my lap or attempting to perform stand-up baby diaper changes to avoid the CHANGING-TABLE FURY of my child. And none of the other moms said anything. They all just kept power walking and singing the hokey pokey and stuffing more cheese crackers into their kids’ pie holes. So to get their attention, I acted all dramatic (I know that’s hard to believe) and said, “Ummm, does anybody ELSE think it’s really hard … or is it just me?” One woman said, “Well, I feel like I can’t complain, because I only have one, and I just can’t imagine how hard it must be with two.” Another woman said, “Yeah, having two was a big life change for us.” Another said, “Well, I have a lot of help.” And come to find out, help means full-time enrollment for both kids in the Montessori school and a housekeeper, and we definitely don't have ANY of that.

I don’t know where I’m going with this. But I just needed to say, yet again, that I think this mommy business is VERY HARD and sometimes it SUCKS. Even though it involves a whole lotta great lovin’ and so much laughter and happiness and open-mouth kisses and all of that … the logistics of it is HARD. So there.

ION …

• My favorite country song right now is called “Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off.”
• I just saw the movie Proof and it is fantastic.
• My parents are visiting next week.
• We are going to Austin next week.
• I am reading Stories of God by Rainer Maria Rilke.
• Husband is reading Exodus by Leon Uris.
• The Goose is reading various things ... Mallard Duck at Walden Pond, Everyone Poops, Where's My Teddy, Otters Underwater, Goodnight Moon, Where is Baby's Bellybutton? Corduroy's Halloween, Is your Mama a Llama? He loves anything with flaps or other tactile paraphrenalia. And every night Husband reads The Midnight Farm to him. It’s a good night book and also a counting book and so they count the farm animals in English, then Spanish, then German. I try to replicate this but my German is muy muy mal. Also I get distracted by the fact that not all of the lines rhyme (like "glove" and "stove") and then I start thinking about pronunciation and the American Phonetic Alphabet and vowels and consonants and how the mouth forms all of these sounds and then I think back to my lesson on primary and secondary syllable stress in academic vocabulary and ... and ... and ... then I try to see how much of it I could read entirely in Spanish (verdict: only the animal names) and then I start wondering how I managed to forget Every Single Spanish Verb I Ever Knew and by then The Goose has found his way into my shirt and the book is on the floor. Pitiful. And I wonder why he thinks The Dad is more fun.

And now I must go rest and allow the bacteria to rejuvenate themselves in my throat while I sleep.

#101

# 101.

Thank GOD this 100 Things About Me list is over. I feel like that damn list should've earned me a Ph.D. in blogging. Or at least a master's. At the very least, another B.A. in B.S.

71-100

I've had it. This is the 3rd time I've had to post this because BLOGGER keeps logging me out. I'm about to do something rash like SWITCH TO TYPEPAD OR OR OR SOMETHING.

For numbers 1-70, see previous two posts. I may combine them at some point, but tonight I'm too lazy. I have to list the previous numbers in order to utilize the "numbered list" option. It's not possible to select a "start with" number, as far as I can tell. If you know how to do this in BLOGGER, please let me know. I love numbered lists, so I hit enter and the space bar 70 times in order to keep the list going. That is neurotic, but this is my blog and dammit, I can do whatever the hell I want with it.

71. I like Lauryn Hill. She's playing on my CD player right now -- The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill.
72. When you put lime in Corona Light, it's almost like being on the beach in Mexico. Almost. Except really you're at home in your living room surrounded by abandoned toys and a baby monitor screeching out the white noise of a HEPA air filter.
73. I love HEPA air filters ... but only with the "ionizer" button turned OFF. When that button is on, then that thing is basically putting out ozone, people ... we had a mold guy out here today and he immediately walked in and said, "I smell mold and ozone -- where's the ozone coming from?" It was the ionizer from the air filter. I thought maybe it was the Ultimate Advanced Technology Pest Repeller (ultrasonic, electro-vibrawave, ionic, night light with AC pass-through), but alas, that's only soundwaves, not "oxygen on steroids" as the mold guy said. Scary stuff. His advice was ultimately that we should build a unit in which to let The Goose sleep. The Bubble Boy? I don't think so.
74. I now believe in "energy work." Remember that crazy "I do energy work" woman? Well ... let me tell you ... she has reappeared in a big way. I was casually talking to one of Husband's co-workers, the receptionist at the Visitor Center, and she said, "Oh, my friend Lisa told me that she met you." I said, "Oh. Really? Well." Then she said, "Yeah, she said that you told her The Goose was sick but that he really wasn't and that she doesn't know why you would've said that." Yeah. Now, I believe.
75. I like Georgia O'Keefe, but not just because she and I were both Kappa Deltas.
76. I also like art from the pre-Raphaelite period (painting and poetry, specifically) . If you know offhand what that is, then email me, because I like dorks. We should plan a playdate so my kid and your kid can put inappropriate things in their mouths while we guzzle wine and discuss "The Lady of Shallott." I'm not sure if that's how you spell "Shalott" ... "Shalotte?" I'm pretty sure it has two Ts. Do tell.
77. I am terrified of the ocean.
78. I'm starting to get grossed out by the chickens. One of them has had poop stuck on her butt for 2.5 weeks. Also, that frog-eating episode ... gross. So much for vegetarian-fed hens.
79. I vaccuum my baseboards. I used to clean them with a toothbrush, but c'mon, that's a little much.
80. I'm not a clean freak ... really.
81. I'm not in denial, really.
82. I finally started my period for real! YAY! No more babies for now.
83. For our 5th anniversary (2006), we are going to Alaska. I have wanted to go to Alaska since the 4th grade, where my teacher Mrs. Liddell (who used to say, "gosh lee") went on her honeymoon, the summer before 4th grade started. I vomited outside the 4th grade classroom on the first day of school, but when I came back in, there was a slide show playing of a moose in Alaska.
84. For my 30th birthday in 2007, I want to spend a weekend at a yoga retreat out West.
85. For Husband's 40th birthday in 2012, we are going to Wales, where his maternal family is from.
86. For my 40th birthday in 2017, I want to go back to Portugal.
87. I like to plan way in advance.
88. I don't want Pappaw to die, but the other day he asked my mom when I was coming home, and after she said, "Not 'til Thanksgiving," he said, "Well then, I reckon I'll see her in heaven."
89. I want to buy a plant nursery when I retire and spend my days advising people about which flowers to plant in shade and which to plant in full sun.
90. I am annoyed at this certain Mississippi artist named Gail Eastland because I once purchased one of her oild paintings for $92 from a gift shop in Oxford, Mississippi (during the time that I was a public school teacher in Mississippi, at which time they were 49th in the nation for teacher pay). The painting is of six little black angels in white gowns. Around the edges of the canvas are the words to "You are My Sunshine." HOWEVER, the last line says, "You make me happy when skies are blue." THIS IS WRONG! You don't need someone to make you happy when skies are blue! You need someone to "make you happy when skies are GRAY ... so please don't take my sunshine AWAY." Duh. I cannot believe I purchased this painting with such a glaring lyrical error. Husband had to put the painting in a remote area of the house because everytime I go near it, I get irate. $92!!!
91. I am in awe of this certain Mississippi artist named Walter Anderson, who once tied himself to a tree during a hurricane. I once spent a night camping on Horn Island (where the aforementioned tree-tying incident occurred). We took our friend Deslonde's daddy's boat out there during a storm and camped and Husband and I were in a huge fight and as a result, we didn't realize that Frenchy and Deslonde's tent had leaked. We didn't even help them. Now I am mortified at our manners, but at the time, I was too mad to notice anything except my own anger. On the land side of that island (is there a more scientific name for "land side" of an island?), I wasn't scared of the ocean, because it was calm and clear. I don't own any original art by Walter Anderson, but I do have a few prints and a mouse pad.
92. One time I guessed how many jelly beans were in a jar and I won a contest. Another time I won a home security system.
93. A girl I used to know got stabbed to death by a serial killer in Baton Rouge, Louisiana in 2002. I think about her everytime I pick up a knife.
94. I like to drink freshly ground coffee. Especially if it's medium-roast, shade-grown, organic, and free-trade certified.
95. I never start the day without fiber or protein. It gets my heart rate up too high. You should always pair a sugary food with some protein or fiber.
96. Boiled eggs are an excellent source of protein.
97. The best way to get a perfect boiled egg is either the 7-7-7 rule (7 minutes boiling, 7 minutes setting, 7 minutes in the fridge) or the boil-and-set-21 rule (bring to a boil, remove from heat, cover and let set for 21 minutes). But remember that you can't boil a freshly laid egg because you won't be able to peel it if it's too fresh. It needs to set in the fridge for a few weeks before it's OK to boil it. And p.s., brown eggs come from dark chickens and white eggs come from white chickens. There's not nutritional difference between the two. And p.p.s., chickens are disgusting.
98. I crave salt a lot.
99. I like to listen to Car Talk on NPR on Saturday mornings because whenever someone calls in, they always ask how the caller's name is spelled.
100. And now all of this and look at that "100" ... it doesn't even have a "one," just two zeros. What's up with that? That is the third SUPER annoying thing about BLOGGER if you ask me ... BESIDES the "let's log out Kimpossible when she's trying to publish" problem, they have that GLARING grammatical error on the "publishing post in progress" page (it says, "This may take a few minutes, if you have a large blog" -- clearly, the "if" subordinate clause cannot be separated by a comma if it's in FINAL position (only if in intial position) and now THIS. I cannot believe I have come so far only to be let down by the "numbered list" option. And I have been so loyal, so devoted to the lists and to bullets and throughout my life ... in other programs, in notes, in my dayplanners. This is too much.

28 - 70

The rest ...

1. For #s 1-28, see previous post. I had to do actually list all of these numbers in order to use the "numbering" option, which was a must.
28. I think I have found a church that I like (finally). They have a gigantic organ and a good choir and they hold lectures in conjunction with the Vanderbilt Divinity program. Yahoo.
29. I am never constipated.
30. I had a baby without an epidural or pain medication.
31. I will never do that again.
32. I breastfed a baby through cracked nipples, under-average weight gain, and two bouts of mastitis.
33. I will never do that again.
34. This morning I bought a book called Why Do Men Have Nipples? I've already read half of it and it's only 2:21 p.m.
35. I like reading. My favorite author is Barbara Kingsolver and then behind her are Eudora Welty and Ellen Gilchrist.
36. I have to stop everything when the baby wakes up from his nap.
37. I wanted to be a landscape architect but I didn't want to go to school for three years to be one. Really, I just wanted to plant flowers and you can do that without three years at LSU.
38. My life changed when I studied abroad in Spain. My dad thinks this is a bad thing.
39. When I get upset or anxious, I read the Tao Te Ching as translated by Stephen Mitchell.
40. When my back hurts, I do yoga.
41. When I'm angry, I hike up hills, ridges, mountains. The biggest one I ever climbed was 12,000 feet.
42. When I'm happy enough to act happy, it's usually because I've had a lot of coffee or alcohol.
43. When I've had a lot of coffee, my gums tingle.
44. When I've had a lot of alcohol, I start confessing my love to people. Look out. I also tend to ask the band if I can come onstage with them and sing backup with a tambourine. I have found that if you wear enough red lipstick and the band has a tambourine, then they will almost always let you get up there with them.
45. I was adopted. I don't know any of my biological family. The Goose is the only blood relative that I know.
46. I do not want to find my biological family because my life is just fine as is, thank you very much. I do not want to open a can of worms.
47. When I was little, I had an imaginary friend named Beebobba who wore plaid pants and no shirt.
48. When I was little, I made clothes for rocks and pretended like my Barbies were doing it.
49. When I was little, I thought the way to get a baby was to pray for one. Once I accidentally prayed for a baby and thought I was pregnant for a week. I finally broke down and confessed this to my Sunday School teacher. Later that week my mom came home with a book called Where Do Babies Come From?
50. When I was 13, I moved into my closet with nothing but a jambox, some Reba McEntire tapes, a case of my mom's old make-up and a mirror. I slept on the floor in a Barbie sleeping bag.
51. I am obsessed with spelling and grammar. I was in a fund-raiser spelling bee while I was pregnant and we came in 2nd place. The only reason we won is because my two teammates were Ph.D. students in applied linguistics. A bunch of ER doctors beat us on the word "graphorrhea". Our theme was 70s and this is what I looked like, pregnant and all: From right to left, it's Camilla (now a professor in Florida), Jim (not sure what happened to Jim, but during a practice session, he told me that pregnant people grossed him out ... I can't believe he let me touch his arm), and me (about four months pregnant).
52. My favorite singer/songwriter is Patty Griffin. NOT Patty Griffith. Patty Griffin.
53. I really don't like live music all that much. You can always tell when they're a tad under pitch and I cannot bear anything that is a tad under pitch.
54. I do not have perfect pitch.
55. I took 14 years of piano lessons, got a minor in piano performance, and then I taught high school music for two years. I haven't really played since I quit that job.
56. I hated my job teaching high school music. I wanted to make a difference in those kids lives but I just couldn't deal with how different I was from them. And how much the same. And how we came from the same state but had such different realities.
57. I grew up believing that people who drank were going to hell.
58. I drink a lot now.
59. I could never get the hang of smoking even though I tried in college. Catherine would always coach me: "Breathe in and then say 'Mom's coming!' and then blow out." I didn't work. I always had a coughing fit.
60. I like going to psychotherapists. I would go all the time if it were free.
61. I like people watching. If there are interesting people around, then my child is not safe, because I get so caught up in watching them that I forget to watch him.
62. In graduate school, I worked for an environmental clean-up company. I investigated buildings for lead paint, mold, and asbestos and then typed up reports about the contaminants. I learned a lot at this job. Like, for instance, you don't want to go anywhere near asbestos because of what it can do to your lungs over time and you can clean up mold best by applying a 10% bleach solution. Any more than 10% bleach causes an imbalance in PH and can cause the mold to grow back more viciously.
63. I am obsessed with organic food and products. I am not a germaphobe, but I do believe that chemicals are the cause of most cancers and many other physical ailments (although we don't have proof yet). My most recent knowledge on this topic was finding out which synthetic ingredients are the worst: phthalates, parabens, and petrolatum. If you do research on these products then you will want to avoid them like the plague. I'm sure you have more products WITH these ingredients than without these things.
64. I am also obsessed with this bird flu pandemic that is possible. Yesterday I took The Goose to a park and he went wild over the ducks. When we got home, I told Husband about this reaction. Husband's reply: "Kim! You know that ducks are the worst spreaders of disease. Do you know why? It's because when chickens get diseased, they die; when ducks get diseased, they live on and spread it." Like mother like son, but don't tell either of them that I said that.
65. Autumn is my favorite season.
66. I like striped socks.
67. One time we lived next door to Walter Mondale.
68. One time we lived next door to a chanting Buddhist woman who ended up being the best yoga teacher I've ever had. Even better than Rodney "hot cheeks" Yee.
69. The aforementioned yoga teacher taught me a very important life principle: The universe is perfect, just the way it is.
70. The baby just woke up.

Moonlighting & 100 Things

This is my day job. Clearly, I'm slacking a little. But at night, I'm really a professional teacher. I have a master's degree and everything. I drive 20 minutes to the community college and attempt to teach English to international students who are mostly refugees from various Middle Eastern countries and Africa. I learn so much more from them than they do from me. I haven't written about this job much because my day job sort of overshadows EVERYTHING in my life right now. But last night there was a priceless moment of Kimpossibleness that I must share:

It's Ramadan, so my Muslim students have been fasting all day by the time they arrive at 6:00 p.m. On Tuesday night, I have four Muslim students in my class, and they all called a private meeting with me (in the middle of mid-term exam review time) to ask if they could take a break and eat. Of course I say yes, proud that they feel comfortable enough to ask me. You see, my relationship with them is shaky at times. They are all about my age (or older), and so I'm always totally shocked at the level of respect. Plus, I used to teach 9th grade, which is like saying that you used to teach DRUNK ALIENS. Anyway, it's clear that the relationship between teachers and students in other countries is not anything like that of American Ts and Ss. The first night of class, Neda from Iran stood up as I entered the room and looked around at everyone else in shock because they stayed seated. She finally sat down after about five minutes, and after class she came to me and apologized for the other students' disrespectful behavior: They didn't stand up when I came into the room! The nerve! Just guess what kind of grades she's getting ... I'm not at all prejudiced, but flattery cannot be ignored. Anyway ... back to Ramadan ...

So, Parwin, from Iraq, all wrapped up in her head scarf, stays after class to inform me that it's Ramadan and that she needs to pray between 6:30 and 7:15 p.m. This is smack dab in the middle of class. So I said, "Well, Parwin, this is college, so you can just get up and walk out (quietly) whenever you need to."

She replies, "Yes, Ms. Kim, but I need to know WHEN I should leave to pray."

I say, "Why don't you leave at around 7:10 p.m., because that gives you 10 minutes before class is over at 7:20 and then you can come back after class to find out what you missed."

She says, "OK, Ms. Kim, but WHERE can I pray -- are there any available classrooms?"

ASIDE: I have TRIED to get them to STOP calling me Ms. Kim, but it's either that or "Teacher" (which is what Ibrahim from Ethiopia STILL calls me) . I really like BOLD, ITALICIZED TEXT (and Corona Light).

And I say -- are you ready for this -- "Well, I'm really not sure about open classrooms, but you could go to the dressing room in the bathroom (cue furrowed brow from Parwin) ... you know, the room that you walk into right before you get to the room with the toilets."

And she says (while looking at me like I am The Devil Herself), "Ms. Kim, it is NOT appropriate to pray in a bathroom."

Oh! Right! I NEVER pray in bathrooms. What in the world was I thinking? I would say, "Lord, help me." But I think "Allah, help me," is more appropriate.

So that's what my week has been like. I am not at all fit to be a mother or teacher, but somehow I have managed to snag both of these wonderful jobs. You can read more about my day job here.

So that's about it for now. I really want to participate in a blogger fad, which is to list 100 things about yourself, but I'm not sure at this point that I'll make it to 100 ... if not, GOOD NIGHT!

1. I like 'Nilla Wafers and I eat about eight per day because the side of the box says that eight is a serving.
2. I count things. I count stairs, walls, pumps up and down from the paper towel dispenser in the pbulic bathroom at work, socks coming out of the drier, etc. (I don't like the number six (or 12, or 18 -- in fact, 18 is the worst, because it is three sixes, the mark of the beast), and so if something counts up to that then I FIND A WAY to make it not be that number ... like if it's stairs, I'll count the ground level or the 2nd floor level in order to get to a better number.)
3. My worst fear is being attacked by wasps.
4. I like to drink wine and eat cheese (individually or collectively).
5. I am shamelessly addicted to every tooth-staining substance on P.E. (blueberries, coffee)
6. I obsessed with having clear urine. I drink water and I measure how much I drink and if my pee is yellow at all then I feel ashamed. Like today at The Goose's pediatrician's office, when I said, "He's been nursing a lot and I skipped a period." And she said, "Hmmm ... you know, marathon nursing is a BIG SIGN of pregnanc, because your milk changes when you're pregnant and they want to nurse more ... do you want me to do a pee test?" And I said, "Well, I took a Walgreen's brand test the other day, and it was negative." And she said, "Well, I've had four babies and I've gotten pregnant each time while I was nursing, and I'm not saying, I'm just saying." And I said, "Where's the cup?" But it was early and we had been at the doctor and all I had been drinking was coffee and it wasn't even yellow people, it was ORANGE and I was MORTIFIED. But it was negative, so I forgot about my embarrassment.
7. I secretly want to be Mrs. America. I have all the credentials: evening gowns (got it! I bought lots of dresses for various events in high school ... even one red one with beads in the shape of spider webs which we caught Vanna White wearing on "Wheel of Fortune" one night), talent (got it! I can sing and/or play the piano, OR tap dance, or do lyrical ballet to Christian Rock Favorites), interview (got it! hello? I am an A, #1 BULLSHITTER), answering questions onstage after being enclosed in a sound-proof booth (got it! OK, so I maybe don't have any booth experience, but I was in Jr. Miss when I was a senior in high school and at the time I remember insisting to people that it wasn't a pageant, but rather, a scholarship program, and I got in the top ten at the program, people, and while there, I met a girl who said, "Prepare to win; expect to lose. That way, you're not disappointed." And that has been my motto ever since.
8. I like dayplanners. I like to color code my to-do lists and use a symbols system to designate items as "done," "forwarded," or "deleted."
9. I can type super fast. Super fast. Grown men in the shared "adjunct office" ask me how fast I can type. They are secretly turned on by my teacher clothes and streaked hair. I know it.
10. I have dreams about whether or not Johnny Depp would like me in real life. I really like Johnny Depp.
11. I think it is gross when male country singers (like Kenny Chesney) wear those really tight blue jeans.
12. I like the Dixie Chicks.
13. I want to be a Dixie Chick.
14. I LOVE karaoke. I have routines. Like "Killing Me Softly" (the "softly" is always "whispered" -- if you do this enough times, then the crowd really gets into it, and if you stop singing the word "softly" then after a while the crowd will actually start WHISPERING it too!)
15. I secretly wish I had majored in anthropology. Or psychology. I think I should've maybe been a psychologist so I could tell people who date CROOKS to DUMP THEM.
16. I like funny foreign movies.
17. I like funny foreign people.
18. I hate the number 18 the most.
19. I like odd numbers, except when it comes to the number of children that we might have ... I don't want JEB to be like me (the only one) or one of more than two. If you have more than two, then you're outnumbered.
20. I don't like body hair on anybody.
21. I've always wanted blue eyes.
22. I think that the lack of attention to environmental issues might drive us into another economic depression.
23. I hope I never go through depression again. I was depressed for two years once. I took Zoloft and saw a psychologist. I thought trains were going to come through my bedroom windows in the middle of the night. I thought I was going crazy. I think depression (and any other mental illness) is one of the worst things that can happen to a person).
24. I would LOVE to write a book but I just can't ever pull myself together enough.
25. I may go back to school and get a Ph.D. in applied linguistics.
26. I've never been jealous in my life. Really.
27. I have to stop after completing only a little over 25% of this project because Husband just came home at 10:17 p.m. with some flowers and a bottle of wine called "Foxy: Alluring, sensual and flirtatious ... That's Foxy." Foxy? That's KIMMY.

Onward and Upward ...

Sunday Special

Every Sunday night, while Husband is out patrolling the park (the other night they caught some people doin' it in the parking lot -- totally naked!), I drink lots of wine and post ridiculous things here on the WWW. I also sit and read lots of other blogs obsessively. And one such blog is that of my friend, The Queen, who posted this really cool picture of a baby mandrill and mother. The baby is nursing, and the mom's nipple is elongated like a gummy worm that you stretch to oblivion and I really wanted to post it but am too technologically illiterate to figure out how, so if you want to see it then you have to click here.

And speaking of nursing, our friends Mohammed & Judy just had a baby and we went to see it last night and take them some food and I SO do not miss that newborn time. It is so hard. Harder than you can imagine. Just imagine hard and then multiply that times 3,000,000,000,000 and then imagine that what you've imagined is only about one quarter of how hard it really is. And maybe this is more news than you want to know, but I just got over a "I might be pregnant" scare. Remember how I had all that angst back in August? Angst which I thought was a pitta imbalance but really turned out to just be PMS for the first time in nearly two years? Well then the September period never came. And then I threw up breakfast two days in a row. So this morning I took a test and it was negativo thank The Good Lord in Heaven. We are not ready financially or emotionally for another baby. My vag will never be ready for another baby, but that is probably TMI. Phew. Conclusion: The Goose has started nursing more due to his separation anxiety issues and my period went away again.

Anyway, while we were at Mo & Judy's dropping off a delicious dinner (of angel hair tossed with a basil-tomato sauce and hand-torn green leaf and spinach salad with home-made caesar dressing and bread and wine), I managed to break one of Mohammed's family heirlooms. It was a hand-carved camel (Mohammed is from Egypt). Mo had given it to The Goose to suck on since he was in DIRE NEED of a toy and I said, "No, just give him some tupperware or something instead because he might break it." Mo said it was no big deal for him to play with it, but then I sat on it in the middle of the baby screaming and The Goose climbing on top of their stereo system. And yet again I am left pondering the philosophical question of the century: WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?

ION ...

I have been reading this parenting book that my mother brought last weekend (note to reader: beware of parenting books given to you by your mother). It is nearly 700 pages long and is one of those Q/A-type books where the author answers the questions of some poor mom who supposedly wrote in to ask a question whose answer can benefit everyone. Don't they know that we know that they make those questions up? Anyway, I'm now on a non-spoiling mission and am further convinced that TVs are the scourge of our nation.

We don't watch TV (we just use ours as a movie machine), so that's not a problem. But the spoiling issue is scary. The book said to write down everything that you would want (material stuff). It said to write down EVERYTHING (even the stuff you're embarrassed about like authentic Miss America Pageant dresses from the 1980s and obscene amounts of eye make-up). Then it said to cross out everything EXCEPT what you think you could actually attain in five years. For most of us, this reduces the list significantly ... like to just a couple of items. Then it said to list all of your kid's wants/desires and to cross out all of the ones that they would not be able to attain (either from you or from their grandparents and other friends/family members) within the next five years. And that's the clencher. When you satisfy ALL of your kid's desires (which is tempting as a parent, let me tell you ... hello? I gave mine a friggin' razor to play with), then they do not learn how to work for things, how to start small, how to save, how to sacrifice, etc. Yadda, yadda, yadda. Why am I paraphrasing all of this here? Anyway, with you, reader, as my witness, I WILL DO BETTER.

ION ...

The .22 I mentioned in my previous post is not really loaded. It's upstairs behind the bed, but it's unloaded. I woke up at 3 a.m. thinking "WTF? WE HAVE A LOADED GUN AND A BABY IN THE SAME HOUSE???!!!" and I woke up Husband and demanded to know why he was so stupid as to keep a loaded gun in the house with a 12-month-old and he just rolled over and sweetly replied, "It's not loaded, Kim. Please go to sleep." I'm not sure how I've managed to stay married for four years.

Oh, and one more tidbit ...

The Goose is practically walking. Which means that he CAN walk but just WON'T indulge us all the time. You know what this means right? It's like that old adage: You spend the first year trying to get them to talk and walk and the next 18 telling them to shut up and sit down.