Are you there, blog?

It's me, Margaret Amber.

So, some things! This was an exciting week. Zoey turned one. Here are some pictures.

Showing off her outfit. She's stylin'. Also, it was very warm in my house. I know it's December.



She really loved her balloons.

This is an awful picture, but I love it because it shows how enthusiastically she was swinging the balloon.



Zoey's favorite present was a sing-a-ma-jig. She can't get enough of that thing.

I made strawberry cupcakes ('cause they's pink) with vanilla frosting and sprinkles.

She tasted and...

She approved! Note this one was taken after she unceremoniously tossed the cupcake on the floor.

So yeah. That. I may have cried several times throughout the day. My womb hurts and it's terrorizing my brain.

In other news, I started school yesterday. Since it's online and geared towards people that don't have a crapton of time, it's only two courses per semester. Each week is called a "Unit" and includes a seminar, a required assignment, and discussion board interaction. I am happy to say that I am the biggest teacher's pet ever. I am already 90% done with Unit 1 in both courses (I have a seminar scheduled for Monday, and the last question of one assignment requires me to 'look back at the week', so I'm holding out a little longer, but other than that? Done) and have wrenched compliments out of both of my teachers for being thorough (ie, submitting a 560ish word response to a request for 250 words) and interacting wonderfully with my peers. One teacher commented that I definitely seem "eager". Ha! I told Russell yesterday that if this wasn't the internet, I would probably be beaten up after class and have my lunch money stolen.

Why couldn't I have been like this in high school? Obviously I've done a lot of maturing since then (have I?).  I am anxious to get out of this rut. If that means I have to tear this online college shit apart with my teeth, so be it.

Also, if you find it in you to send a special holiday wish out to the cosmos for me, could you do so? Just wish that I don't die before we find the funds to get work done to my car. I need brakes and tires and have for some time, but you know how the months tend to just speed by, and suddenly SURPRISE! It's December and snow's in the forecast and you're driving with a couple bald tires and brake pads that should've been replaced last spring. Maybe I should worry about my car before I worry about my kids' Christmas presents, but that's not going to happen. I am almost 100% sure that Riley would rather have the tool bench he keeps asking for than a mom with all of her limbs. I mean, really. Who needs all those limbs?

Finally- NEXT MONTH I TURN 30. Don't tell anyone I told you. I was thinking I was going to be really upset about it, but guess what? I started driving this year, and I'm back in school working towards a degree, and employed, and my son is being considered for the "gifted" program at school, and in a few weeks I will have been a "non-smoker" for two years. Life is good. Maybe I'm not a millionaire in the monetary sense, but I'll be damned if I'm going to spend another birthday feeling all "woe-is-me" about not being where I thought I was at this point in my life. Pat on the back, me. You're not as stupid as you thought you were.

The Baby Zee

Today, my baby girl turns 1. This post is about her.

My pregnancy with Zoey was a roller coaster. We were so happy to have conceived and I was so sure it was the girl we wanted, but morning sickness, sciatica, and gestational diabetes made it a rather uncomfortable and long pregnancy. She was also an incredibly strong and active baby. My mom commented at one point that she'd initially just thought I was a "wimp", but eventually saw that I was right- she never. stopped. moving. To say I was ready for her birth is an understatement.

Things didn't stop being hard after she joined us, however. Diagnosed with reflux, Zoey had trouble with keeping her liquid meals down and couldn't sleep flat on her back. In fact, she didn't seem to be able to sleep more than 20-30 minutes anywhere but in contact with one of us. Endless nights were spent downstairs on the couch. The intro to 'Dexter' still vividly brings back memories of being awake at 2, 3, 4 am with a fussing baby, watching episode after episode while the rest of the family slept. The couch became my home base through day and night, and I ended up with a pinched nerve in my back as a result. Zoey was determined to make whatever impression she could. My maternity leave was a blur, and I cried often, and constantly asked her "Why? Why, Zoey?" Returning to work, however, was even harder. I missed her with an absolute ferocity. She was no longer attached to me. It was like losing a limb.

Since then, she's grown exponentially in every manner. She never does anything half way. She attacks life with all of the passion and enthusiasm she's shown since she was able to bruise my insides. If she is not touching, tasting, smelling and speaking to every single thing she comes across, she is not happy.

She is a force of nature. She never stops moving, but she's always had the time to stop in the midst of her whirlwind attacks on life to give hugs. She doesn't do "gradual". One day, she took a few steps. The next day, she bolted across the room like a squirrel. One day, she pulled herself up on the bottom stair, the next day she climbed to the top.

I've often wanted to implore her to sloooooow down. She is quite probably my last baby. I know it would be pointless, though. She has a complete grasp of how quickly she's aging, and she cannot rest until she's accomplished every single thing she aspires to- which appears to be everything.

I can't help but be saddened by her first birthday. She's growing up, and she proves every day that she's going to be a fiercely independent child. I am also proud, though. There were times during her first year where she's intimidated me, and where I've honestly doubted my ability to mother this child.

But I think I'm going to be okay. If anything, I just need to learn from Zoey, who would be more than happy to teach me to just roll with the punches and charge full steam ahead towards whatever the future may hold.

I can't wait to see what the future holds for her. I love you, Zoey Jane. Happy first birthday. Keep on being you, the rest of the world be damned. Just like you've always been.

Hello, again, friend of a friend.

Let's not waste time on reintroductions. Suffice it to say if I'd forced myself to write, it would have been even worse than when I actually WANT to, so you should consider yourself fortunate that I instead decided to neglect you.
I'll get straight to the point. I know you're busy. I see the way you're looking at me expectantly, wondering if I will be offering you a gem or a pile of dung. It's probably a little of both.

I am shamed, this holiday season. Shamed because I committed a great parenting foul. I made a list of all the things I wanted to buy people for Christmas. I labeled it, in my anal retentive manner, with their names, and labeled the entire paper with the words "Christmas List" (hopefully not "Christmas Shopping List"? I dunno, I don't have it with me). I tucked it away safely. Then I untucked it to look at it again and proceeded to lay it carelessly on the table at my house. Fortunately, I did use a complex code of highlighter colors to indicate things that had been ordered already, and did not provide a key with which to break the code, because I apparently forgot that my son is capable of reading.

I was informed this morning over the phone by my mother that Riley had apparently thought it was hilarious that I was considering buying him pajamas, and showed her where I'd written it on the list. The Christmas Shopping List. The clearly labeled list, detailing in my obsessive manner, every single friggin' gift I intended to spend money on this holiday season.

In one foul swoop, he has taken my control of this situation away from me. He holds this valuable knowledge over my head. In my mind, he is the Godfather. He sits pompously behind a heavy table with his fat fingertips pressed against each other and his head cocked just slightly downward enough to shadow his eyes. I approach him, meek and prostrate; his careless mother. He knows he holds the power of Christmas in his hands. It is in his power to destroy my careful planning, and I have unintentionally granted him this power. Now I must appeal to him to keep this secret (perhaps by hiding a severed horse head in his sheets), or try to outwit him.

My success in the coming battle will hinge upon whether or not I labeled it a "shopping" list. If I didn't, perhaps the claim that the list was for Santa (followed by a casual suggestion that he add anything he sees missing before I send it off) will work.

If I did? If I did label it a shopping list?

Then perhaps my son will stop believing in Santa Claus at five. At which point, my only solace will be in teaching him to use his new found knowledge as a weapon against other children.

I found this by googling "Parent fail". It makes me feel a little better.

I was a crappy cheerleader and a crappier girl scout.

You guys want any cookie dough?

You don't have to actually make cookies out of it if you don't want to.

Commmeeee onnnn.

My kid's going to be the lame one that has to watch all the over-achievers claim their prizes. I've sold so little cookie dough. I've actually had to manipulate purchases out of people. For example:

Me: Cookie dough. How many tubs can I put you down for?
Innocent Coworker: I still have a couple in my freezer that I've never made from-
Me: What, like three? Round it out at a nice five?
Coworker: I don't actually bake them.
Me: Did you know my very smart son attends a school that consistently scores too low on standardized testing? Probably because they don't make enough money on cookie dough to afford school supplies.
Coworker: I really don't want it, though. Can I just donate money?
Me: Just buy a tub and give it to me afterwards. I eat food.
Coworker: Oh.... okay, then. What flavor do you want?

I am going to have so many tubs of cookie dough.

And that's my success story. But the kids at school aren't going to care about that when they point and laugh at Riley as he steps up to accept his.... let me consult the prize book.... "Scent"sable Pencil and Eraser.... and stands next to Joe Cookieseller with his flat screen tv. Stupid Joe, I hate that guy.

In other news, I enrolled in online classes and am working towards a degree in SOUL-LESSNESS. Seriously, that's what my degree will be for. It's spelled the same way as "Accounting" though. This doesn't mean I've given up on my awesome plans to somehow get paid just for breathing and sometimes passing gas. I will eventually still do that. Maybe when I'm 70 or something, if I haven't drained my IRA and if Social Security exists and is worth anything by then. I'll probably even pass a LOT of gas, then. But for now, I'm going to shoot for being an auditor or a CPA and try to make enough money to buy a Camaro and lots of MUTHA-EFFIN' TUBS OF COOKIE DOUGH.

Because although it may be cheaper to just buy a TV, in the end, I really like cookies.

The scariest thing is how much Trick or Treating SUCKS now.

Happy DAY-AFTER-HALLOWEEN! Did you get lots of candy? Did you? If you did, I'm beating you up and stealing it, cause my kid got CRAP. People just don't celebrate this greatest-holiday-of-all-holidays anymore. It's sad. When I was little and had to walk to school uphill both ways in the snow without shoes, we used to be set loose for HOURS with a pillowcase and would come home with enough booty to last until the following Halloween. Last night? Riley got maybe 8 ounces... Sad. It did, however, make me appreciate the FEW houses that were decorated, almost so much that I wanted to risk a restraining order and run up on their porches to hug them.

Anyway, people on facebook know this already, but it's worth repeating for non-facebook folks or anyone that missed it. I brought the kids home some little surprises yesterday. Zoey got this little guy:

I named him "Mr Boo" and she loves him. Who wouldn't? Cute as all-hell.

And I got Riley one of these:

The Spider version, that is. Couldn't find a picture. That's the valentines version.

I stuck a marshmallow pumpkin and a pumpkin pez dispenser in the spider's back. Riley, while attempting to eat his weight in pez, asked for suggestions on names for the spider. I thought I was being clever and cute when I suggested Mr. Leggington, Sir Manylegs and Spidey McManyfoots. He turned all of these down. Later, he named it "Tyler". Sometimes I think he quietly judges me and determines that I am weird and that he should fight against being like me at all.

Yesterday was also a Halloween Party at work, which meant that I finally had to succumb to the terrible peer pressure as a result of my boss announcing that I looked like the Sun Drop Girl. (You tube "Sundrop Drop it like it's hot" if you don't know what I'm talking about.) All of us in the office agree that I was robbed when I didn't win the costume contest.

Riley was King Julian from the Penguins of Madagaskar (and the movie of similar title):

And Zoey was a very unhappy bunny. Understandably so, since her fluffy white tail was the size and toughness of a tennis ball, and we meanly forced her to sit on it:

Going to be trying some new ideas next year to keep Halloween fun! Riley almost didn't want to go trick or treating this year and I need to stage an intervention to keep this awesomest of holidays from becoming his least favorite!

Go get me some candy.

Shambling Horrors BEHIND MY FACE!

I haven't felt like blogging lately. Actually, I guess it'd be more accurate to say that I haven't felt like doing much of anything. It seems my household is doomed to be sick for the rest of our lives. This morning, there is fresh pain in my throat and fresh congestion everywhere else in my upper body. I was late leaving the house because I kept pausing in the midst of getting ready for work and staring, glassy-eyed, at my gray pallor wondering whether or not I should just get back in bed. I think I may get out of here early. Got to drop some crap off at Riley's school for Halloween goings-on on Thursday.

So, this weekend, these things happened:

Riley watched 'The Labyrinth' while holding a pool noodle.

Big brother read to Little Sister as a lovely respite from all of the sibling rivalry.

Zoey was cute.

Sometimes they were both cute.

Last night we discovered that we probably have a shambling horror somewhere in our house. Let me add that Russell and I aren't the type to be influenced by scary movies, Halloween, etc. into thinking that things are bumping in the night. That being said, we were fast forwarding through some commercials last night, and in the relative silence, heard this popping, dragging, slurping type sound coming from the dark basement. I immediately went all mentally Lovecraft and envisioned something horrible, and Russell and I exchanged grave looks before he informed me that he'd heard the same thing the prior evening. (I keep accidentally typing 'hurt' instead of 'heard'. Lots of Freudian slips this morning). The cat was of course sitting creepily at the top of the stairs staring down into the basement, but his tail wasn't like a puff of black cotton candy affixed to his ass so I took that as a good sign.

Meaning we have a FRIENDLY shambling horror in our house.

Or maybe mice? Do they make sucking type noises?

You can read? So can I!!! And I type about it!

So I started a book review blog, and in order to avoid simply repeating here what I already said as greeting over there, I'll just refer you to it:

Black, White and Read All Over

It's also linked in my righthand margin, you'll notice. There's I think 9 entries already to catch up on the crap I've been listening to on audiobook lately. Read it if you wanna. If you don't wanna, don't tell me that cause it'll hurt my wee feelings.