No Self Control

Weeeelll, that’s right, friends, I have a blog. Life, it seems, is returning to normal. I hope. This past week was a mishmash of deadline (Glee, and though I love writing those things, they take me FOREVAH) and unpacking and honestly, just stupid dumbass insanity. Without going into it, allow me to share a brief glimpse, bullet-style:

– Our car broke on Adam’s first day of work. Luckily, he took my (newer, fresher, made in this decade) car to work just in case. Had car towed, $550 worth of repairs enacted and … car still broken. More repairs. Three days later (THREE DAYS. OF ME NOT LEAVING THE HOUSE AT ALL. WITH A TODDLER), learn that the car is NOT broken, but Adam had given me his “spare” key, which is an uncoded VALET key, which means it cannot start the car. $250 worth of useless labor expenses, not to mention $100 for a rental car, later, and our car was returned to us in exactly the same condition it was when I tried to start it.

Awesome, right? AWESOME. AND YET!

– Thrush! I got thrush again, and stuffed myself silly with probiotics and kicked it. Again. But not before those three days of being house-bound with a cranky kid and an assload of THRUSH! And no way to fix it! Because I could not get to Whole Foods!

THRUSH! And cabin fever! WIN WIN WIN.

– Bizarre suicide hostage crisis a few blocks from here! With rifles! And SWAT teams! And what the hell! We live in ADORABLE SUBURBAN USA. Not, say, Compton at the height of the crack epidemic.

– A hair appointment that wasn’t, wherein I was dicked around by the first receptionist, when I scheduled a consult and (long) appointment to have my frightening, frightening long-overdue hair colored. Then, when I got there was told I only had a consult, and not a real appointment, which would be fine, except that then the second receptionist said there was no way I EVER had a real appointment in a totally mean tone of voice and then, when I tried to explain, RAISED HER VOICE and said there was no way that happened, and have I ever had my hair colored at a reputable salon before? Because I should have known better.

Me. The customer. Who booked the appointment that they screwed up. I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER. And she yelled it, too. And for some reason this makes it worse, but she was TWENTY THREE at best, and I’m all, BITCH, I’ve been getting my hair colored LONGER THAN YOU HAVE BEEN ALIVE.

So I said thanks, but no thanks to that haircut to nowhere, and stormed off, only to realize I had nowhere to go, because HA! we hadn’t picked up the car yet! So Adam dropped me off! For what he thought would be THREE AND A HALF HOURS! So I had just stormed out to … nothing. I had to sit on their porch while they glared at me out the window until Adam came back with Sam. Ha ha? HA HA HA.

Drama queen fail.

There was more, but I think that covers the highlights. It was a rough week. Smaller, more cheerful events include:

– Complete lack of impulse control now that I’m in sight of actual stores that carry actual things. I am going to send us to the poorhouse, not on extravagant things, but because I completely lack the ability to resist the vast array of cleaning products and other random sundries available at Target. Which brings me to …

– Swiffer! THE SWIFFER! How have I lived this long without a Swiffer? I can’t stop Swiffing! The house is sparkling! There isn’t a single speck of dog hair in sight! I Swiff three times a day! It’s so SATISFYING, all that Swiffing! I also picked up the Swiffer duster and have Swiffed the shit out of my baseboards! My mom suggested the WetJet, and oh dear, the can of worms she opened. I think I spent $60 in Swiffer products alone.

–I have lost (and regained and lost and regained) a lot of weight since having Sam and no matter what size the rest of my body is, my fingers have remained a half size bigger than they were before getting pregnant. Also? My feet are bigger, forever. Like, a whole half size. Which, um, ew.

Ergo, I gave in, friends, and took my wedding rings to be resized at the jeweler where we got them seven (SEVEN) years ago. It was a sad day, but it was time, I’m afraid.

But also? $200 to have them both done. I DIED. I REALLY DID. I know they’re diamond and platinum and it’s not like adjusting one of those rings you get in the gumball machine, but … really? I was floored by this, though I suppose there’s no real reason why. It’s not like I’d ever done it before, but perhaps had I known that, I wouldn’t have done it the same week I spent an ungodly amount on cleaning products, mythical car repairs and other sundry items purchased for no other reason than Because I Could, Dammit, and Finally.

– Our kid is sleeping through the night. DING DONG and HELLO. That only took … fourteen and a half months. She’s sleeping past 5, too, and I owe it all to Twitter, who provided some awesome advice when I threw out a random APB for assvice, and to Accidents, who shared her nightweaning plan. We moved from two naps to one (still a struggle to get that nap to be any length, but …) and I did a little Lite Ferber action (not even any effing crying, just yelling for about five minutes) and WHAT? THAT’S IT? THAT’S ALL IT TOOK?

There is also the small matter of Mr. Mouse, her chosen lovey, and let me tell you, my world is brighter because of Mr. Mouse. She gets EXCITED to go to bed with Mr. Mouse. She SNUGGLES Mr. Mouse. She PLAYS with Mr. Mouse before bed and at the moment, I am currently purchasing the entire stock of Mr. Mouse NATIONWIDE, so don’t even think about trying to buy a mouse toy right now. I’m on that shit and I will SNIPE YOUR ASS ON EBAY. (Or just order it from Kohl’s for $5. Whichever.)

– Sam’s walking! Sort of. She’s still holding on to stuff one-handed for comfort, but if she, say, has two shoes in her hands, she forgets that she’s not holding on to the wall and she just goes. The second she realizes she doesn’t have training wheels, she panics, gives up and crawls. But still! Steps! Oh my girl.

I am shocked — shocked! — at how much more I love the toddler vs. baby phase. I thought I would LOVE having a baby-baby, and, well, I didn’t. Not really. I mean, I loved her, of course, but it’s only gotten better and better and though I know I am in for a shitstorm when she turns three or so, I appreciate a communicative kid over a blob of inscrutable screaming any effing day of the week. Oh, this kid. She is so, so awesome.

*Insert adorable photo here, which I would totally do if I could find the camera, which I cannot. Not even a little*

Happy Wednesday! JE REVIENS.

*Peter Gabriel

57 comments May 18th, 2010