The Bitchin' Post
The Bitchin' Post was a sign given to me as a gift nearly five years ago ...I don't know what happened to the sign, but I feel like bitchin'.I want to bitch about:- insomnia - sucks
- Blackberry - sucks
- Distance between California and Colorado - sucks
- Headaches - suck
- Writing touchy-feely opinion papers - sucks
- Housework - sucks
I can't sleep. I can't take the medication that gives me lovely sleep because of the baby. I'd go to sleep and what if he needed me??
My very expensive, replaced way too many times but now treated like gold phone has decided text messaging is passe and no longer wants to cooperate with the technological wonders of said messaging. Not to mention email. For someone whose primary means of communication is the written and not the verbal ... this is not a good thing.
My sister needs me. I can't be there for her. Sucks.
Headache - 'nuff said.
Touchy feely papers. I am so close. Sooooo close to finishing for good! And one of my last classes is all about opinions, and what I think, and what I feel, and what I believe yet the professor fails to grade any of it leaving me wondering am I on the right track? I hate this! I'd much rather do complicated math problems. At least those aren't graded on opinion. Sometimes I think I should have stuck with the engineering side of things instead of pursuing my current course of study but I didn't really want to stay in engineering ... **sigh** Touchy-feely crap sucks.
Housework. I don't dare complain to my wonderful hubsand and I do love my huge, all to myself, walk-in closet but this house we bought is just too darn big. With baby, school, work and keeping my budding family fed in a somewhat healthy manner (i.e., not eating out every meal), keeping this house clean seems nearly impossible. :-( Although, I have considered that in a smaller house, there would be less space which would mean less to clean but a more cluttered existence. Maybe I should just learn to live with a little dust and pile of laundry or two ...
Please excuse my haphazard use and lack of modifying dashes in places they really should go. I didn't seem to have the inclination or desire to insert them.
Hubsand and Hippycup are doing fine. I am just having a pity me moment. I probably need to eat a snack. These moments usually pass if I do.
It all started with a Turkey ...
Happy Thanksgiving!
(a day late)
Where have I been?
Well.
As I said in my last post, the happier I am, the less I seem to blog.
I am pretty damn happy right now and,
thankful.
Now, about that Turkey.
A while back, my sister started playing Farmville on Facebook.
Mr. Right started to worry. He heard that Farmville is as addictive as World of Warcraft.
BTW, World of Warcraft is reason for divorce in this household. I call it the deal breaker.
So, when I'd log onto Facebook, Mr. Right would ask if my sister was doing Farmville.
Yep, yep, and yep.
He was concerned.
I passed this on to my sister telling her Mr. Right was concerned. Very, very concerned.
She assured me all was well.
Then one day, there was this post.
She found a lost, wild Turkey. The Turkey needed a home. And this nifty little link was provided ...
You know me. Or, you may not know me but I can tell you it is well known I am a sucker for the disadvantaged animal ...
You guessed it.
I adopted the Turkey.
What I didn't know, was adopting the turkey automatically set you up with a FARM.
Oops.
I now have a farm. Farms actually - real
and virtual.
At first I thought I'd keep it small - theTurkey has to live somewhere, right?
(
hysterical laughter ensues)
Labels: H
Every so often, I click back to posts dated one year, two years, three years, four years, etc. ago today. It is my way of keeping check on my progress or lack of ...
I realized something today. In times of angst, I am a prolific blogger. When I am happier, I blog less. What a shame. Because. Wouldn't it be better to memorialize the good times???
Although I am home sick today and my in-laws have the
Hippycup (so weird to be home alone), life is fantastic! I couldn't ask for a better husband or cuter baby or better in-laws. Work is so-so, but only because the
LFC situation has not improved and, due to a few other things that are probably best unmentioned, I am not as dedicated of an employee as I used to be. Now, it is a good-paying job with awesome benefits. I go. I give them the appropriate amount of time and effort after which, I go home. Morale is pretty darn low. It is the only darker spot in my life and quite frankly, compared to work situations I've experienced before, it is still not a very dark spot at all. I just don't say "I love my job" anymore. Thankfully, I don't hate it either. I simply don't mind it. Mostly.
Now, for the
Hippycup. He is so darn cute! And growing so big so fast! I weighed him this morning and he is already 15 lbs 10.5 oz!! He wore his first shoes yesterday (for about 5 seconds, he
de-
shoeifies faster than he
de-
sockifies) and he played with his first bear. He also sat on his very first real horse! He liked riding when he was in my tummy and I think he is going to like it when he grows up too. Of course, he likes
any kind of motion. Period. When he is awake, he is in constant motion. Come to think of it, he is not so still when he sleeps either. Maybe we should have named him Newton?
Mr. Right and I are doing great. This is the first relationship I've ever had that gets better and better as time goes on. I did indeed, get it RIGHT. I booked tickets for our anniversary trip. We are going to chilly Colorado. Can't wait!
Finally, Mr. Right and I laugh because we have become "those parents." You know, the parents who constantly talk about their child/children and take 1,001 photos a day (can you believe it? me who traveled everywhere with a camera and failed to take photos) and we goo and
gah and coo and caw. Yep, we are all that and then some. If you don't believe me, you should see my
Facebook page.
Not to worry though, I will NEVER have the Hippycup voice as an outgoing message on our answering machine. It is a personal pet peeve of mine, that one.
I hope all is well in blogland. I am headed back to sleep to kick this cold/flu thing I seem to have.
While the Hippycup rarely wants to nurse these days, he finds it necessary to sleep with his little fist wrapped around my nipple. No wonder my boobs are scared to make milk!
I am a bad mother. . .
My little hippycup was nursing.He was juuussst about fully asleep (he really really needs/needed a nap) and ... I bonked him on the head. Oops! Sorry baby. Mama should stop trying to multi-task and just simply enjoy you.There was about a 5 second delay before he detached and started to cry. I cradled him, reattached him and assured him it was just a bad dream. He started nursing again and just now drifted back to sleep. Whew! The bad mother part is the bonking of the head and fibbing to him about it being a bad dream. Of course, if I were really immature, I could just think of it as unintentional payback for the hickey he gave me yesterday.Either way, I am madly in love with him. I'd heard about mother's love but never understood it until I had this little one of my own.Happy Friday!
