Mandajuice

I have FIVE minutes

The Club Mom thing was great.  I will just be stoked if it pans out into anything for me or for anyone else who was there today.  Either way it was a free lunch and a good excuse to leave the house without any Bob the Builder underpants in my purse.

When I got home Alex took one look at me and said "I love my Mommy!" which I totally thought was going to be the best thing he said today.  But then there was a fairly loud car accident on our street and we rushed out to help and he told the policeman (three times):  "THAT'S A REALLY COOL POLICE MOTORCYLE!"  Then he had to go potty and in front of the cop and all the neighbors, he whipped it out and peed all over the sidewalk.  And as much as I loved hanging out with all the cool girls, I have to admit the public urination still won out as the highlight of my day.

Wish me luck (or them, whichever)

Tomorrow is the Club Mom thing.  I'm starting to get nervous about it - not so much about the meeting itself, I'm actually looking forward to seeing if I miss the conference room as much as some small part of me thinks I do.  I'm actually more nervous about meeting all the Internet Rock Stars again.  Everyone was so cool at Blogher last year, but I haven't talked to almost anyone since then because I'm the exact kind of nerd who meets wonderful new people and then can't bring herself to write a simple e-mail saying how cool it was to meet them.

The sad news is that whatever becomes of the meeting, I won't be able to write much about it any time soon.  Dave is taking the month of February off from work to study for the Bar, so my computer time, which was previously hovering around nada, is now down to zilch.  I'll check in briefly, but otherwise won't be back to my normally scheduled [excuses for not] blogging until the countdown to the big 3-0 begins March 1st. 

If all I do is post photos, it keeps my foot out of my mouth!

Before and after condo photos!  Click to see them all at Flickr.

Downstairs BEFORE:

And After:

There is also an upstairs Before/After set at Flickr.

A million little reasons to drink again

Did y'all catch Oprah tearing James Frey a new one?  Poor schelp.  I kept thinking "gee, Oprah, tell us how you REALLY feel!"  That woman does not hold back.  Not that she necessarily should've, I just honestly felt bad for the guy.  Not only did he admit to being a big fat liar in front of millions of people, but he couldn't go backstage afterwards and drown his sorrows in a fifth of vodka.  Talk about needing to call your sponsor!

I read A Million Little Pieces, mostly because of the over-the-top reviews Oprah's suck-up club gave it.  I thought it was a fascinating read because I had no preconceived ideas about addiction other than my own battle with Dulce de Leche Hagen Daas.  My very first thought about the book was that I can't even remember what I ate for breakfast yesterday and I've been sober my whole life, so how the hell was this guy able to remember such specific details after so much time?  It never made sense.  Most of the book seemed unbelievable and I was so sucked in by it that I really wanted to believe it.  It's actually a ridiculously stupid book if you read it knowing most of it is fabricated.  Which, after seeing Frey on Oprah yesterday, is what ANY reader should conclude.

My thought about it now is that the type of person who becomes a drug addict is exactly the type of person who would write a memoir, sell millions of copies of it and lie about it on Oprah.  Some people just have a more elastic morality than others.

Edited to add:  Before anyone else tries to chew me a new one, I want to make it clear that I'm not unsympathetic to drug addiction.  Having read about HIS specific life from HIS specific perspective, I don't think James Frey was a victim of anyone other than himself.  He had a priviledged upbringing and a family who loved him and he still chose to shit it all away by doing drugs.  I didn't intend to generalize and I should've made it clear that I was judging HIM, not all drug addicts.  And doesn't he deserve to be judged?

Also

My contractions sucked yesterday too.  I did some very light housework (like paying the bills and picking up some toys and vacuuming ten square feet of the living room) and then the crippling back pain started!  It hurt to walk!  I went to the doctor and they monitored my contractions (which, of course only happen when I get up and move around, so monitoring me while I was strapped to the table was useless), checked my cervix and pronounced me over-reacting.  They also told me to maybe take it easy until my back felt better, which I took to mean until the baby gets here!  But it's already improving today, so I can go to Target after all.

Apparently I found some time

First off: that monster truck show?  It was a hit with the pants.  No one has ever witnessed a more excited little boy.  Little boy brain shrapnel went everywhere the moment he figured out that a Monster Truck Show wasn't just a place where they had lots of monster truck toys to look at.  It had never occurred to him that they'd be SO HUGE!  Or so loud.  Dave and I spent most of the evening bickering back and forth about whether we'd supplied adequate hearing protection or not.  And THAT was fun, let me tell you.  It turned out we hadn't and Dave is still concerned about lasting hearing damage (although I'm extremely doubtful).  Next time we'll buy some muff-style protection and avoid repeating the drama. 

Sadly, that was the best photo taken during the show.  And the only one in which Alex managed to tear his eyes away from the mud long enough to even turn in our direction.  But don't I look fresh?! And lovely?!  It's an illusion!  An illusion called HOT PINK BLUSH, heavily applied.  Underneath it I feel like a festering tub of whale lard.

Like tonight!  I'm definitely coming down with something from the cold department, which could be strep throat or just a sniffle, I can't tell yet.  And ever since I jumped up off the floor to answer the front door when Dave got home from work, I've been having contractions.  Fun!  They're just Braxton-Hicks, but they suck and I don't remember having so many this early with Alex.  Maybe I just recognize them more the second time?  Who knows.  I'm just complainy tonight.

What else?  [I'm checking my list.]  Oh!  Dave forgot our anniversary for the second year in a row.  And I could be all snarky about it and tease him relentlessly here, but the truth is that it really hurt my feelings.  So much so that I can't even muster a joke about it!  Apparently this is what you have to look forward to after EIGHT years.  Even when he did try to make it up to me by taking me to a fancy dinner at The Left Bank on Saturday, he basically sat there and pretended to listen to me while I blabbed endlessly at my (totally overrated) filet mignon.  When I called him on it, he said he was distracted, obviously, and also sorry.  Which was sincere, but didn't make it suck any less for me.  Maybe, after all, this is what happens when you're husband works ten hour days only to come home and study for five hours a night so you can stay home with your children and have a better life?  I should shut up and be grateful.

Moving on...  My libido is nonexistent.  Well, I should clarify that.  It's there, but ONLY when I'm sleeping and having these EXTREMELY HOT dreams about who the hell knows what or who (I can never remember them).  Then I wake up and drag my pregnant ass out of bed and all memory of the need for sex drains from my bloated body.  The only passable thing about our sex life right now is that I'm in good boob territory.  Alex is done nursing and it'll be a few more months until my milk comes in again and dude, pregnant boobs are hot, there's just no way around it.  Needless to say Dave is taking full advantage.

The condo is finally listed for sale.  It is lovely and I never want to step foot in it again.  Except I still need to go over and take all those "after" pictures for posterity.  It's probably safe to say that our next house will be new.  Also?  Realtors are mostly idiots.  Idiots who make OBSCENE amounts of money for doing very little.  SIX FRICKING PERCENT is what most of them charge and when you're talking about real estate that sells for $500/sf, you're talking about buttloads of wasted cash.  We found somebody to list our house for 4% and even that's a hefty paycheck, if you ask me.  I just hope it sells soon. 

This is getting super long now.  My brother Dan got married on Saturday.  It was apparently a big spectacle since even the Chinese RARELY have traditional Chinese weddings - most opt for a white dress and a limo  - and yet my brother footed the bill for the big shin-dig.  Red silk outfits, the hand-carried bridal carriage and even a parade with dragons!!  It was such a sight, particularly since the groom was a westerner, that the local news showed up and filmed the whole thing.  Dan's best friend Gina took the best photos, which are here.  I can't wait to see the video!

Now that Alex is potty-trained, he seems even less like my little baby boy now.  It's like suddenly all of a sudden, he's this boy, this kid.  Is it me or are they first baby boys, then big boys, and only then little boys???  He'd kill me if I called him a little boy right now, so staunch is he in his big boy conviction.  I'm not complaining, I'm just remarking - my baby is gone.  I'm just glad I've got another one coming down the pike.

Lastly, I was invited to attend a blogging thing for Club Mom next week.  All the Internet rock stars were invited and I feel weird about going since it's a bunch of people who are actually making money with their writing and I think the people who invited me have no idea that I'm really just a mom who blogs.  Either way, I'm stoked.  Now I just have to find something to shove my pregnant ass into so I don't look like a beached whale.  Any ideas? 

 

(ha!)

Karate girl

The other night as I was lowering my (now generously round) body onto the air matress at midnight, I thought there was something under me - something that both moved and was rather sharp.  I shrieked SO LOUD that both Dave and the dog started running, Dave towards me, the dog as fast as he could get in the opposite direction.  It turned out there was nothing in the bed at all and after a few seconds I realized what had happened and I could barely stop laughing long enough to tell Dave I was okay.

I always lower myself down onto my left side (best for digestion and blood flow!) and this baby girl kicked me SO HARD on the far left side of my abdomen that I really thought there was something on the bed jabbing me from below.

Well.  It was funny when it happened.

Like night and day

Every night it's the same.  Eight o'clock rolls around and I drag my ass off the couch for the dreaded routine: we go potty, brush our teeth, put on fuzzy jammies, read a selection from Curious George, count to ten in a whisper (because, "shh, the neighbors are sleeping") and then climb into the race car bed, at which point I pray to be transported to another dimension.  First the monkey and the baby sister doll MUST be kissed, hugged and tucked in, the monkey nestled securely under the right armpit, baby sister under the left.  Then the mind boggling chore of picking a toy for each hand begins, monster trucks are scouted out and exchanged (Bad News for Nightmare, Gravedigger for Bounty Hunter) until the perfect combination of die cast metal and neon plastic has been achieved and all appendages are occupied.  Then it begins:  "One more hug!"  "AND a kiss!"  "COVER MY MONKEY!!!!"  And the second I begin to edge my way out of the room, he's hysterical and climbing out of the covers only to undo all my tedious handiwork. 

Of course instead of providing even a smidgen of kindness or the extension of any further comfort, I become the bitch of all moms and threaten that if he doesn't stay in his bed, I'll shut the door.  In his distorted toddler brain, this obviously translates into: YOU WILL NEVER SEE YOUR MOMMY AGAIN, at least that's my guess given his psychotic reaction to it.  It does seem to help, though, the evil door shutting, although I actually have to shut the door, not just threaten him.  Tonight I had to shut the door THREE times before his father gave him a stern talking to, used the word "lock" and tucked him in for the umpteenth time. 

The scary thing is that he's got it all worked out this way.  His behavior is completely intentional (except for his reaction to the door shutting, which is guttural and heart-wrenching).  The very reason the tucking in is so complicated and precise is because he knows all he has to do is move two inches and it's all undone, requiring the further presence of a mommy person to make it all better.  He even knows just what to say to get me to come back; even asking for "one more hug" in his well-rehearsed desperate moan or patented coyness.  It's totally pre-orchestrated, I just know it.

Fortunately he manages to redeem himself every morning by padding his way down the hall in his footy jammies and crawling into my "hot air bed" (which is now a permanent fixture on the living room floor).  He hugs me around the neck, kisses his baby sister good morning (my belly), and always throws in a few "I love you's" for good measure.  He shares my pillow, begs to snuggle my hair and tells me stories in his scratchy little boy voice.  ("One day, Alex was walking in the woods when suddenly all of a sudden there was a big scary lion! So Alex picked up a giant rock and threw it at the scary lion and the lion ran away!")  His morning self is so deliciously edible, right down to his stinky breath, that I think we'll keep him.

I'm so exhausted and hurty right now that I've taken to walking like a 90 year old man.  After an hour in Home Despot, during which I couldn't locate an orange-vest wearing mother-f****** to save my life much less help me find some sand paper, I spent the afternoon digging and planting and mulching the backyard of the condo.  It looks fabulous now, but I did so much bending over and squatting that I actually felt a few contractions.  So not good.

Dave and I also got into a big fight about it, but he apologized, so that's that.  I'm just SO ready for the condo to be done.  It should be a matter of 2-3 days now, so cross your fingers for me.