All For the Love of a Button

Well, I couldn't figure out how to add Tricia's button to my sidebar on Blogger, so I sucked it up and moved.

In October I'll be posting 31 times in honor of my sister and National Down Syndrome Awareness Month, and I'll doing it at my new home, here:

http://princessnebraska.wordpress.com/

I hope you'll all follow me over there.

Thank you!
Elizabeth

Probably Not of General Interest...

...but lately while doing my treadmill running I've been watching Season One of Battlestar Galactica on DVD and now I have THE BIGGEST girl crush EVER on Starbuck.

Seriously, I love girls that kick ass. Starbuck makes me want to quit washing the damn dishes all the time and worrying about when I'm going to fucking vacuum or whatever and she makes me want to ditch my kid and husband at home and go learn to fly a viper and smoke cigars and wear boots a lot, and I'll be honest, I don't really even know what a viper is, exactly.

In other related news, how come there are so few kick ass girls out there in TV land right now? And please don't tell me that Mariska Hargitay files a mean motion or whatever the hell her character does. Furthermore, I don't share the nation's interest in forensic science, no matter what random city it takes place in, so whatever ass kicking the sassy...uh forensic sciencey ladies of TV may be doing these days is of no interest to me. Anyway, I'm talking about actual physically violent bad girl power ass kicking and I can't think of anyone doing it these days. Anyone? If the situation doesn't improve I'm just going to have to watch Buffy Seasons 1-5 and BSG on an endless loop. And then I might have to start attending comic cons and writing fanfic and reading graphic novels and next thing you know I'll be buying Star Trek uniforms on Ebay and making Mr. E *renew our vows in Klingon.

And we can't have that.

*PS We aren't renewing our vows any time soon, we've only been married for four years. But if we ever do, it totally won't be in Klingon. Duh. It will be how everyone should renew their vows: in Vegas, before God and Elvis. Or Elvis, anyway.

Do I Know You?

With Mom

Thank You

I have much to say. Am doing much better. Thank you very much to all who emailed support. It has helped immeasurably. If you wonder why I'm not blogging or returning email, it's because I just googled "help baby teething".

Things I Might Delete Tomorrow

Lately I feel like too many people I know in real life read my blog and I can't admit the things on here that I wish I could. Like can I say that right now I'm trolling the internet for cute baby boy clothes because right now it's either shopping or eating and for christ's sake I've eaten enough today.?

Ugh. I'm tired of depressing revelations about my mental instability. I'm tired of my fat ass and my tight jeans and my total lack of willpower. I'm tired of becoming a cliched binge eater but I can't stop eating mother fucking sour patch kids. I'm tired of soul searching.

Admitting things late at night feels cathartic so maybe I should just keep going. If you know me in real life just pretend you never read this since I'm about to admit it all, right here for everyone to see.

That we don't know anyone here and we have no friends with which to do anything and I think my husband and I are starting to get on each other's nerves and sometimes I wonder how I ended up in such a one sided argument of a marriage where everything I say is agreed with. That I finally the other day realized for once and for all that I did not, do not - have a mother I like, really at all, and that I will spend the rest of my life fighting the emptiness that is left because of that. That I say terrible things about everyone I know and I can't stop. That often we are barely getting by and we are living paycheck to paycheck. That I almost never feel like putting out and that my husband has given up trying to persuade me otherwise and even that depresses me. That I never feel good enough. That I once tried therapy and it was useless because I completely and totally lied my ass off to my therapist. That I shop and accumulate as protection against the insecurity that mounts on the upward curve towards a visit with family. That I can't drive. That I convince myself that this is not an emotional problem and that I love spending every day at home with nowhere to go. That I love my son so much I often wish I could wake him up just to smell his neck and yet sometimes I look at him and think "you're STILL here?! Yikes." That it angers me intensely when I feel judged - and I'll passively agressively post on my blog later to get you back for it. That I hate talking on the phone and I hate leaving the house by myself because dealing with other people freaks me out so much. That I wanted a girl. That I wish I believed in God.


Bet you didn't know that, did you?

Park

I Know It's Kind of Wrong...

But I am the only one who laughs out loud when they hear the NPR announcer say "massive unit withdrawal"?

Hee.

These Have Always Brought Me Luck

I haven't been posting because I'm really not in the mood to do ANOTHER I'm in a really crabby mood blog post. I'm waiting it out. And yet here I am, still in a really crabby mood.

It's that feeling like when you're itchy all over but you can't find the spot to scratch? That feeling like having a cold on the hottest day of the year? The weird puckery sore lip thing you get when you eat too much salty popcorn. The way it feels to walk into the ocean with cuts. Being stung by a jellyfish. Making a fancy dinner only to discover that the meats gone bad. Swollen achy joints in my fingers. (I've had this since I gave birth - what the heck is it? Anyone? Post partum arthritis?)

Anyway. I did run my nine miles on Sunday, just to let you know. In case you were waiting to hear how that went. It wasn't easy, but it was possible, and that's what counts in the end. Parts of it I only kept going because I wanted to be able to come back here and tell you all that I had made it, so this is me, telling you I made it. But still crabby.

Sometimes when I'm in a really bad mood I start to remember all the things that Mr. E has done in the past that have really annoyed the shit out of me. For example two Christmases ago at Starbucks, they had these kick ass reusable advent calendars for sale...nice red boxes with numbers on them, stacked in the shape of a tree. A place for a chocolate in every box. I adored them and the idea that every year I'd get to pull the advent calendar out of the christmas box and fill it with my own chocolate. It had such a very nice square pleasing symmetry to it that just suited me to a t. It was like the Kate Spade of advent calendars. Boxy and crisp. And every time I saw it would say to Mr. E "that's really the only thing I want for Christmas this year" and it got to be this running joke, and I just assumed that he had purchased it early on because I mentioned it every damn morning and I am the sort of person who, if you tell me there is one thing you want for Christmas and that one thing costs a mere $14.95 well, heck, I'm gonna buy it for you. Early on and all, just to be sure.

December 1st rolled around and that's the day the more traditional among us start opening our advent calendars, and so when Mr. E and I walked into Starbucks that morning and he tried to it buy it that day!!! and it turned out that it was sold out everywhere and there was no chance of getting one, I couldn't help it. I'm not sure what came over me, even.

I started to cry.

I was just so shocked. It had never even occured to me that Mr. E wouldn't just...buy the thing he knew I wanted well ahead of time. When he didn't I took it very personally. Which I know shocked the hell out of him and maybe taught him a lesson when he had to pay $34.95 plus shipping to buy me one of those advent calendars on Ebay later that day.

But that is not the point of this story. The point of this story is that even though it is very easy for me, on these saltwater sore angry days, to think of failure, it helps immeasurable to rise above, to try harder, to reach for better memories. Like how sometimes Mr. E will say "These have always brought me luck" when he hands me the car keys. I just love that. It cracks me up every time.

So. Working on the crabby mood, hope to snap out of it soon. Wish me luck.

Prepare Yourself For an Unbelievable Amount of Cuteness