The Quiet Contemplator is the Coolest

The Quiet Contemplator is an awesome kid. Yes, she does things that annoy the crap out of me sometimes, but overall, I think she may be one of the coolest kids on earth. Here are a few reasons:

She Loves Chucks
If given the choice of what shoes to wear, she will always pick her hot pink hightop Chuck Taylors. She calls them her "boots". She wants to wear them with everything, and if I am not already on the edge of stabbing someone and willing to invest the 5 minutes it takes to put on, I let her. Dressy, casual, whatever. They are awesome. So is she.

I be stylin', bitches.

She has Great Taste In Movies 
Her favorite movies are Pee-Wees Big Adventure, Where The Wild Things Are and Coraline (yes, it is scary but she loves it and doesn't get the scary part yet). I love her so much for liking cool movies and not making me watch Teletubbies or Barney or some other asinine shit over and over again. Pee-Wee I can handle. I know you are, but what am I?

She Digs Cool Music
Her favorite songs are Rumor Has it, by Adele and Rehab, not the original version by Amy Winehouse, but the cover by Keller Williams. When we play Rumor Has It, she dances and shakes her booty like crazy person. As for Rehab, every morning when we drive to school she says, "Mama, can we listen to 'no, no, no' please?" Then she proceeds to wag her finger at me every time the songs says "no, no, no". I die.

She Loves the '80s
And out for the 80 bajillion toys she has, The Quiet Contemplator's favorite doll is Fanny, her original 1985 Cabbage Patch she got to help her through her surgery. It makes mama's heart swoon every time they play together.

Hi, my name is Fanny. I am awesome.

Dream Big

This is an actual conversation that happened between myself and ADD Daddy over dinner the other night.

ADD Daddy: I went in on lottery tickets with a bunch of people at school today.
Me: Sweet. If we win the lottery I am so buying a Honda Odyssey.
ADD Daddy: Wow.

Me: I know, right? It is going to be totally sweet.

ADD Daddy: No. I meant "Wow, that is super lame."
Me: No, I want a tricked out momwagon with TVs and leather seats and 87 cup holders.
ADD Daddy: Yeah. Wow. Dream big, baby. Dream big.

Me: Shut up. It is going to be awesome and now that you are being such a dick about it you can't ride in it.

ADD Daddy: Bummer.
Me: Anyway. We might actually win because people from around here are always winning. Its crazy.

ADD Daddy: What do you mean?

Me: I mean people from St. Louis and Missouri are always winning the lottery.

ADD Daddy: You mean winning the Missouri lottery?
Me: Yeah. It is awesome. We just must be really lucky.

ADD Daddy: Yeah, that is because it is the Missouri lottery. The winner is always from Missouri.

Me: Oh. That makes more sense.

ADD Daddy: I fear for our children.

Me: Fuck you. You put dish soap in the dishwasher. I win forever. (leaves room triumphantly)

Run for your lives!

My friend April and I ran the Run For Your Lives 5k and obstacle course on Saturday. It has to be one of the coolest things I have ever done. Here is a quick recap and a few pics from the event. Sorry there are no course or zombie pics. I am an idiot and promise to do better next year. I was still in a state of shock after being electrocuted at the end of the race to remember to take any. (Wow. I didn't even mean that pun.) Anyway...

Zombie parking only. Ha.

Yep. It is 8:38 a.m. and I have already cracked a cold one.

April, too. She is just put hers in her Starbucks cup because she is classy like that.

Tailgating before the race. Because why would you NOT have at least four beers BEFORE being chased by the living dead?

Best race classes ever. We were entrees.

Bring it, zombies.

Mamas, unite! We have been pooped on, peed on and puked on. We ain't afraid of no zombies.

Seriously, please don't.

Sorry, I had to do it.

We survived! We even had a flag left so we didn't become zombies!

Group shower, anyone?

Clean(ish) and ready for more beer.

I used The Cool Cucumber's backpack. It got a little dirty. Oops.

The aftermath.

If this race comes anywhere near you (we had to drive an hour for it) and you are even marginally in shape, you MUST run it. Running through the woods while being chased by zombies, water slides into mud pits, being electrocuted while trying to scurry your still-carrying-the-baby-weight ass under a fence, what is not to love? Run for your lives, ladies!

My love/hate relationship with Pinterest, Part 3

I hope you enjoyed Pinterest Parts 1 and 2. This is the final installment of the Pinterest series. Don't cry, it isn't like I made Katniss end up with Peeta or anything.

So who am I to complain about complicated Pinterest pins when I haven't tried them? Oh, I have. I have been to the dark side of a pin, and I ain't never going back. Nevah!

We all know the infamous "IKEA bookshelves made into playroom benches" pin, right? Yeah. I am one of the 11 people on earth that pinned it and actually did this one. Crazy, I know. Cutest thing on earth, easy to do and affordable, right? Sort of.

The problem really isn't that the project is super hard. It sucks a bit of ass to do, but it isn't rocket science. The real problem is that it is a time and money suck.


Let me break the price down for you, shall I?

Bookshelves 2 x $60 = $120
Storage Containers 10 x $5 = $50 (and this is the cheapest of the cheap. You can pay $15 per bin, or $150 if you are crazy loaded.)
Fabric for Benches 5 yards x $10 = $50 (again, the cheap option.)
Foam for Benches at least $45
Board for Benches at least $20

Now I clipped all my Hobby Lobby coups, hit Home Depot during sales, scoured the internet for codes for the fabric store and still spent over $300 on this project once tax was included. Um…yeah, I could have bought some kick ass seating at IKEA that didn't have me running all over god's green earth and Home Depot to find 2" foam for $300.

This project kind of nickel, dime and times you to death. I didn't really notice it until I had everything but the foam and each bundle was $35 and I needed two. Yeah, $70 WORTH OF FOAM! I about cried when I realized that the damn foam would cost me almost $50 even with my 40% off coupon. And that was at the THIRD store I had looked for it at! I had come too far to give up, so I had to bend over and buy the crazy expensive foam just to finish the project. Suck!

Now are the benches cute and functional in the long run? Yes. It is a super awesome idea and creates a great seating area and crap coverer. I have yet to actually sit on them in the month they have been complete, but the toy storage is nice and they look good. We ended up keeping our two benches separate because A: the instructions to connect them together were a bit above my pay grade and B: we wanted the flexibility to move them around separately as we go. And, I guess you could just make one bench for the bargain price of $150 if you wanted.

A sneak peek. Full post on the play room to come.

So why did I write this post if I like them in the long run? Because I am a whiner, but moreover, I wanted to warn the 3,697,435 other ladies out there that pinned this post that they are going to be in 300 duckets to polish this bad boy off.

Anyway. You have been warned. Now head to IKEA to buy the damn Expedit shelves regardless of this warning because we all know we mamas have the attention spans of a gnat and as soon as you click out of this window you will have forgotten all about this post. Le sigh.

My love/hate relationship with Pinterest, Part 2

OK, now moving on to the things that drive me cray cray about Pinterest.

This is the type of stuff that makes me hate Pinterest sometimes: pinata cookies. Seriously, who pins this with the thought that they are actually going to take 8 hours to make something that will make a kid go, "Wow, cool" then 3 seconds later start playing with a stick?

If you have time to do this kind of project, let's find a better use for your time, shall we? Like cleaning my bathtub, or getting my groceries, or doing one of the 6,364 other mind-numbing tasks that I have to do on a daily basis, rendering me unable to be the overachieving mom that shows up to the party with these ridiculous cookies.

There are 30 tedious steps involved to make these cookies. THIRTY. Let me go about the steps as they would go in my house if I had volunteered to make these cookies to bring to an event: drive to store, buy tube of Pillsbury cookies and box of wine, drive home, bake cookies while drinking wine, eat most of the cookies, show up to the party with 6 cookies and a half empty box of wine. When asked why I didn't bring the pinata cookies I had signed up for, I would reply, "Because I have a life."

The End.

Pinterest parts one and three.

My love/hate relationship with Pinterest, Part 1

Ah, Pinterest, how do I love thee, let me count the ways:

You got me drunk on deliciousness.

Once I was drunk, you provided me with delicious dip to keep me nutritionally sustained.

You helped me keep track of my inspiration to make my own kick ass pin-worthy project for The Quiet Contemplator's room.

You helped me become a god in the eyes of my child by giving me the recipe to make flubber.

You helped me hide my drinking habit while at the pool.

You let me know that I am not the only one that has good intentions to run, but is very lazy.

You gave me a recipe for a cake that was so yummers that my husband proceeded to eat the whole thing then lay on the couch while complaining that he had a stomach ache.

Dearest Children

Dearest Children,

I know this is going to be very hard to understand, since your brains are now currently the size of a lime and orange, but let's give it a try, shall we.

Though it may seem so, mommy was not put on this planet simply to feed, entertain, clothe, bathe, rock, wipe the ass of, clear out the boogers of, clean up after and all around cater to the likes of you.

Before you two were painfully summoned from my loins, mommy actually had a mind of her own and a spare minute to do frivolous things like use the bathroom alone and eat a complete meal that did not consist of anything with the words "mac" or "nugget" in them. I was able to do silly things like go to Target without having every item in my cart being followed by a 20-minute Spanish inquisition consisting solely of the question, "Why."

Crazily enough, before the two of you were born, I was even able to leave the house without having to change my outfit six times because it has acquired a certain amount of vomit, yogurt or bodily fluids. Thanks for sharing, BTW. Back in BC (before children), I changed my outfit six times just to see which one my ass looked best in. Now, it is just a prophecy that my ass will never look good in anything again, well, besides a Lazy-boy and a pair of sweatpants.

Anyway, thank you for not even pretending to listen and instead asking me if you can have another cereal bar, watch Elmo, go outside, have some milk, have some water, have a yogurt, watch Yo Gabba Gabba and then repeating from the beginning. Your time is much appreciated.

Sincerely yours,

Mommy

I Should Be Thinner

No, this post isn't a cry that I am fat. I am more mommy to love because I drink too much and love chocolate cake, like any good chubby girl does. The reason I should be thinner is that The Cool Cucumber doesn't like for me to put sustenance in my body. Ever.

Since the day he was born, he has had some sort of sixth sense about when I am about to eat something and proceeds to wail the second the fork makes its way to my mouth. He somehow senses that I might be about to provide myself with life-sustaining nourishment and needs me RIGHT THIS SECOND.

When I am about to take my first bite of any food, he bellows in my direction as if to say, "Put that fork down, devil woman. Come play heed to my endless needs. Your nutritional intake will forever take a backseat to my need for you to fetch me shiny things."

Now that the miraculous invention that is puffs has entered our household, mama is finally able to get a bite in edgewise. I love you, nutritionally unsound, outrageously expensive and ridiculously small contents-bearing container of puffs. You have saved my sanity, though not done wonders for my ass. Maybe I should go back to the starvation diet after all...

Depression Sucks Donkey Balls

To help those of you that struggle with pre- or postpartum depression, or just everyday suck-the-will-to-live-out-of-you depression, I wanted to write about my overall experience with depression and, moreover, my experience with antidepressants. Why? Because, quiet frankly, there is not a lot of real information out there from real people. (But if you Google antidepressants, there is a HELL of a lot of misinformation out there from cray crays.)

So, why did I go on antidepressants in the first place?
Well, first of all, I was depressed. Second of all, I had the balls to do something about it. Needing treatment for depression doesn't mean that you are weak. It shows that you are strong enough to ask for help when you need it. I have had bouts of depression all of my life, even before I had children. Nothing huge or life-changing, just an overall dark-cloud-following-you-around feeling. Then I had kids...

After I had The Quiet Contemplator, postpartum depression hit me like a pile driver to the vagina. I went down and went down hard. Que the after-effects of having a baby in an already depressed person, take away all things that resemble sleep and add an infant that cried from about 3 pm to 8 pm, and you had me: one hot fucking mess of a mama. I lost friends, alienated the ones I loved, lost all sense of self-worth, etc. The only thing I managed to do right was to be a good mom. But that is all that I was. Outside of being a mom, I was a shadow of my former self.

Things got better after a while, but never got great. Then I got pregnant again. This time, I decided to take control before The Crazy Train of postpartum depression even left the station. I started antidepressants in the hospital right after I had The Cool Cucumber and had a prescription filled for when I got home. How did it go? Best. Decision. I. Have. Ever. Made. I was able to be the mom I wanted to be, and though there were hurdles (fuck you, colic and acid reflux), I was able to jump over them and land on my feet.

Well if antidepressants are so fantastic, why did I go off of them?
Many reasons. Money, wanting to be able to feel more grief over my brother's death, etc. But the biggest one was: I just felt like it was time. If it went horribly, I could go back on them, but I wanted to give myself a chance at being good enough again without the medication. I also felt like I couldn't really "feel" any severe emotions. I couldn't cry, whether it be for joy or pain and I needed some emotional relief to deal with my brother's death. Being on antidepressants is kind of like having emotional blue balls: you feel on the verge of an explosion, but the release never comes, and then you just feel annoyed and exhausted.

How is it going now that I am off the smack?
So far, so good. I don't feel the overwhelming dark cloud anymore, so the overall storm must have passed. Now, I just have to deal with the normal up and downs that are everyday life. I cried the other day when my daughter told me I was her best friend. On antidepressants, it would have just made me really happy. I feel a lot more of everything now, both good and bad. It is nice. If it gets to be too much, I will just go back on the smack for a while.

Now, let's talk about withdrawal.
Oh, no one told you about withdrawal when they gave you your shiny new prescription for happy pills? Yeah. Me neither. Most antidepressants are SSRIs (selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors). WTF does that mean? Fuck if I know, all I know is that getting off of them causes withdrawal symptoms that suck donkey balls. Some of the wonderful parting prizes you may receive for playing? Nausea (yep, got it), headache (nope, sidestepped that landmine), dizziness (is that what they call it? I thought I was just FALLING OFF THE EARTH), lethargy (zzzzzzzzz…), flu-like symptoms (I was actually taking my temperature to make sure I wasn't really sick). I also was unable to sleep and when I could actually sleep I got horrible nightmares. BONUS! Withdrawal sucked BAD but it only took me about two weeks (though the fear-mongers on the internets told me it could take MONTHS). It is bearable knowing there is an end in sight.

What antidepressant(s) did I take?
I have taken Celexa before. It was ok. I liked it but never really felt it was doing all I needed it to do. I am sure it works wonders for others, it just wasn't the perfect fit for me.

When I wanted an antidepressant for after The Cool Cucumber was born, my Dr suggested Lexapro because it had less side effects than some other antidepressants. So, for seven months following his birth, I was on Lexapro. It was really a good fit for me. It did what I needed it to do and I didn't have any side effects.

So, knowing what I know now, would I do it all again?
Hell yes I would. Even with the emotional blue balls and withdrawal symptoms, going on antidepressants for my postpartum depression is still one of the best decisions I have ever made. They helped prop me up when I was really down and gave me the strength to make it through a really dark period. They also left me with the wherewithal to know it was time to go off of them and give myself a chance to be me on my own.

It is hard to be strong enough to take care of yourself when you really need it, but you can do it. The first step is to admit you need help. The next step is to find it. If anyone, I mean ANYONE has any questions about depression or antidepressants, PLEASE contact me. You don't have to go through it alone. I am here and ready to help in any way that I can.

Weekend Infant/Toddler Alarm Clock

Why is it that, on weekdays when I need to get my kids up and ready for school, they will sleep in until 10 p.m. if I let them. Then, once Saturday rolls around, they are up with the roosters at 5:30 a.m.? Do they not understand the concept of weekends or sleeping in? Do they just really want to get a jump on the crazy fun time that is Saturdays and Sundays? Or do they just want to find as many ways as possible to drive me to the brink of insanity?

I don't get it. It happens EVERY weekend and not a damn thing changes in our schedule. They still eat the same things, read the same stories and go to bed at the same times. What is it that is setting off their infant/toddler alarms clocks to wake me up at the buttcrack of dawn every Saturday and Sunday for no reason whatsoever? And why do I have to drag them out of bed by their toenails to get their asses dressed and in carseats so I can drop them off at school and be to work on time Monday through Friday?

If I promise to get them a puppy do you think they will at least stay quiet in their rooms until 7 a.m. on Saturday? I didn't promise a live one. Maybe The Bloggess can help me find a nice stuffed one. And what better way to keep a child scared to move asleep and in their room than by placing a dead stuffed dog directly outside of their door every Friday and Saturday night.