So Long

Heading out for a family vay-kay tomorrow. San Diego for 5 days. I am more nervous than excited, but then I've always been a nervous traveler. See y'all next week.

Who Whom it May Concern:

Some letters I've been composing in my head to inanimate objects...

Dear Uterus,
Really, couldn't you have waited to slough your lining for a couple of more days? Vaginal bleeding and moving just don't go well together. Please keep this in mind for next time.

Dear Epstein Barr Virus,
Look bitch, I told you not to show your face around here anymore. You just skulk around and wait until I'm tired and stressed and my guard is down, and then WHAM. Get out. Stay out. Next time I'll be asking with a baseball bat. With nails in it.

Dear New Walk in Closet,
Oh my darling, where have you been all my life? Do people really live this way? Somehow it just doesn't feel right to have shelves for all of my shoes--for there to be built in drawers for accessories--for there to be so much space. Now that I've found you, I'll never let you go.

Dear New Shower Massager,
Wow. Was it good for you too?

Dear Phone Company, Electric Company, Dish TV, and All Other Companies:
Look. Four hours is a long time. Can't you get your shit together and get here at a specific time? I don't have time to sit on my ass waiting for you. I have things to do. I've deducted $100.00 dollars from my bill, as that is what I estimate 4 hours of my time is worth. If you don't like it, you can suck it.

Los Libros

Well 12 boxes of books are packed and as of right now, I'm finished packing...books. That's it. Books.

Those boxes don't include the cookbooks, Sophie's books, Janzen's books, or the various books under beds, in the bathroom, and in other nooks and crannies, which will probably add up to at least 5 more boxes. Sheesh.

Today my mom, the world's best and most experienced packer is coming over to lend a hand. I'm grateful, but hesitant for her to see the built up detritus of the last 8 years of my life. I think I'll put her to work packing the kitchen, which should be fairly safe, and I'll start tackling Sophie's room.

I'm not even THINKING about the basement which includes Janzen/E's room and the laundry room. That would just make me mad. That is, both crazy and angry. Or the yard. My goal is to get the stuff we need to live comfortably up to the new place by Monday. That leaves me 4 days to gather miscellanea and clean before the new guy moves in.

Have I mentioned that I hate this? Plus, my period is starting any second, and I can tell from the little sores on my eyelids that the Epstein Barr is creeping up again.

So, send me prayers and love, and hopefully this time next week, I'll be posting on my awesome new kitchen, the beauty of central air, and vastness of my new master bedroom.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
I brought home a big box filled with packing peanuts that I had pilfered from my bro's store. She checked it out and announced, "How remarkable! A box filled with snow!"

Today'w worst thing about being a mom:
Picking up the packing peanuts

Facing Facts

I've been totally ignoring the fact that I'm moving in, like, 3 days. There is a pile of boxes sitting by the front door, but that's about it. Today I need to face reality, and get my ass packing!

Yesterday was Soph's first day of summer pre-school, and boy did those 4 hours go fast. I went to what I thought was going to be a one hour "gentle yoga" class. What I got instead was 2 hours of Kundalini. Kicked my ass. But I'm surprisingly not sore today. In fact, I'm feeling pretty good. The Kundalini is supposed to do tons of stuff with your nadis (sp?), the energy pathways through your body. I don't know if I buy it, but I do feel somewhat energized. I better. Some of that Kundalini stuff is bizarre. My favorite was sitting cross legged, cross-eyed, and puffing out our cheeks for like, 5 minutes. No--wait. The laying on out stomachs, humping the shit out of the floor (I think she called it "hip bouncing").

After the Kundalini was an my eye appointment, then a quick trip to the dollar store for a birthday present for my nephew (I'm cheep, what can I say. I did score a 4 foot water gun though. His mom was thrilled.) and then it was time to pick up the girls. ("The girls," for future reference, are Soph and her friend A. They are going to be a matched pair pretty much all summer.)

Needless to say, I did zero packing. And what I need to do post haste is quit playing around on the computer and START. But I don't wanna.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
This morning she was sitting by me while I was checking out the celebrity gossip. She pointed at this picture and asked, "Is that you mom?"

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Remember those packing boxes I mentioned? I can't convince her that they're for me to pack with, not for her to make dolly cradles, trains, castles, etc. with. She's already ruined half of them.

I TOLD you I would.

And see--here I am, another day, another post.

Today has been busy. Among other things, I took Soph to get the rest of her kindergarten shots. It sucked. But not quite as bad as I thought it would. E was kind enough to meet us at the Dr.'s office, and between the two of us, we kept Soph pretty calm. She needed 3 injections, so two nurses tag teamed it--each giving her a shot in either arm in tandem, and then a quick poke in the leg. There was shrieking and tears, but they were surprisingly short lived. Including the one from her finger poke blood test, she is now sporting 4 Hello-Kitty Band-Aids, and is very proud of all of them.

After the Dr. was the dreaded trip to Wal-Mart. Soph needed a new swimming suit, and I needed a small tent to wear over my suit, as tonight is the first night of our mommy-and-me swimming lessons. This is the first in a series of 3 sets of lessons, and the only one to which I must be present. Of course, I'm going to have to tame the pit-beards and do a little up-keep in the nether region before then. Have I mentioned that I HATE shaving.

Next week is moving week, and I keep trying to get myself to start boxing books and other stuff that we don't really NEED, but the motivation just isn't there. Maybe tomorrow when Soph is at her first day of summer pre-school.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Continuing the JC saga from last time, today I was talking to her about my spiritual beliefs, of which, I really have none. I told her, "Baby, when you get bigger YOU get to decide what YOU want to believe. There are a of ideas about life and death and Jesus and God. Just make sure that you decide for yourself what YOU want to believe." Her reply, "Can I believe that I'm a unicorn?"

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
The shots. You know, several moms who I know and respect have chosen not to have their kids immunized. It's their choice, of course, but I can't say I agree with it. I've read up on the stuff, and feel pretty sure that I know the risks, some of which are very scary, and holding her down to get poked SUCKS, but if I lost her to something I know I could have prevented, I know if I couldn't live with myself.

Wanna see something cute?

In case you hadn't noticed, I'm going to try and post at least a little something on the blog daily this summer. More time on my hands = more computer time, and I'd rather spend the time here than checking out Nicole Richie's current weight (My first cassette tape, by the way, was Lionel Richie's "Can't Slow Down.") or Brittany's current crotch shot.

Now then. I haven't posted any pictures of Soph for a while. These aren't WAY new, but they're only about 5 weeks old. Behold the cuteness:


And now...back by popular demand...

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Apparently, today is fun with straws day. First, we made sculptures using straws and pipe cleaners. Then we played straw hockey, (otherwise known as blowing a packing peanut across the table using a straw) and currently, Soph's doing some straw painting. GT.


Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Soph has this friend--EK--and her mom is a teacher at the Montessori school and they are WAY, WAY Mormon. They are more Mormon than Joseph Smith drinking a diet, caffeine free coke, and turning to his third wife to say "Oh my fetching heck! Brother Ephram needs us to take some green jello down to the ward house for the primary social." She keeps coming home talking about Heavenly Father and telling me that we're really sisters because we all lived in heaven before we were born and Jesus can make us perfect and I AM PISSED! Yesterday was the last straw, when she came home Heavenly Fathering again, and I've decided that I am going to call EKs mom. What I'd like to do is rip her a new asshole. But instead, I'm going to ask her to please preface any religious talk with the phrase "we believe" and not present this stuff to Soph as if it were the bible truth. It's a matter of respect. Ok. I could write another 3 pages of rant on this, but I'm done.

Inferiority Complex

One of my old English professors was in my yoga class today. And every time I bump into her and am forced to make small talk, I feel dumb as hell.

She asks how I am, and my brain begins this argument with itself:
Don't say you're good. Say you're well.
Are you sure?
Yes. 'Am' is a verb, so you don't use the adjective. You use the adverb.
But does it matter that 'am' is a linking verb?
Fuck if I know.

So I end up stuttering out something like, "Oh--things are going good--well. I'm ok. Really. How about you?" Then I give her the brief update about the parts of my life that she may be able to pretend to be interested in, "You know--still teaching. English. It's good. Well. It's going really great--ly. And my daughter is almost 5. And well, we're still here in Cedar--as you can see."

Some people, really nice, normal people, can turn me into an idiot in about 2 seconds. It's because I know they're smarter than I am, and they know they're smarter than I am, and so really, what's the point of me even talking, because they know more than I do anyway.