Barking Mad

If You Can't Say Anything Nice...

...then post a cute picture of your husband reading one of his favorite childhood novels to your daughter. 

On the morning I told Gareth I was pregnant (Ironically, it was Father's Day 2005!) he shared with me a long-held dream to read one of his favorite childhood novels to his own child; "Watership Down."  

He's finally making that dream a reality.    Gareth was telling a co-worker about wanting to find the book at one of the local book stores, and today he brought home a first edition copy of the book on loan from that co-worker.  

It reminds me of some of Gaby's very scary and unsure first days of her life when Gareth would sit outside her NICU incubator and either read to her, or let her wrap her tiny hand around his finger and tell her about all the wonderful things that they were going to do together which included reading "Watership Down."

Ever since I had to force-wean Gaby back in the summer of '08, Gareth has taken over rocking her at night, where they spend the moments before bed, telling one another about their day, or reading a book.  Sometimes they just sit in the still, soft silence of the night and listen to the music that quietly plays in the background on Gaby's stereo.  Yes, at nearly 6 years old, Gaby still rocks with her daddy in that very same glider I used to sit and await her arrival in.  I enjoy sitting in the front room and listening to the rhythm of their voices, the rise and fall of laughter, and even the occasional grumble when it comes time to actually climb into bed.   Once she's tucked in, then it's my turn to go in and give her a final "Night-Night-Goodnight" and a little snuggle as I climb into bed with her and cuddle with her for a few moments.

I can't imagine the time when she won't want a cuddle with her daddy before bedtime.    I know it's coming though.  There will be a time when she looks at her daddy and me and lets us know that she's too big to be held and rocked before bed.   I just hope it's not anytime soon.

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I've been in a less than stellar mood over the past few days compounded by hormones and the annoyance of having a situation that I'm powerless to do anything about.   My first inclination is to always "write my way through" this kind of thing...out here.  I appreciate the feedback I get from others who are outside the situation and not as emotionally involved as I am.

I have grown weary of seeing a couple of close friends of mine thrown under the bus by someone who feels the need to create drama in order to receive the attention she feels she needs.    No one knows what to do about this person because when she's called out on her antics she always plays the victim despite the fact that we all see through her facade of wanting to be the hero she thinks she is.   She's neither a victim or a hero.    It's gotten to the point where I don't want to be around this person at all yet I, much like all the others involved, have no choice.

So, instead of writing about this situation (and just writing it out and deleting it isn't going to help.  I tried that earlier and I still feel helpless and hopeless when it comes to how to deal with all of this) I posted a photo that brought to mind happier things and peaceful images.   That does work.   I could spend each and every day writing about Gaby and/or Gareth and all the beauty and happiness they bring to my life.   I'm blessed, so richly blessed by these two wonderful souls.   Sort of puts everything else into perspective.

Well, except the hormones.  And right about now I'm pretty sure Gareth is wishing he could put them into perspective.  Sorry honey.

It's Been One of THOSE Weeks!

I know, you're sitting there going, "OMG, what now?"   Guess what?  I have pictures to show you exactly, "what now"!

Sunday morning I woke up and couldn't see very well out of either eye.  It was like something was in the way.  Well, that "something" was the area under my eyes and my cheeks.  My nose even ceased to exist.   Here, let me show you a picture.

Well wait a sec, let me remind you how I normally look...

There's my normal fat face, with tons of make up, next to my adorable and naturally beautiful daughter!    Notice the clear definition of a nose and two eyes, rather than two slits in my face?

Here's how I woke up on Sunday morning...

This was me Sunday night after an entire bottle of Benadryl, ice packs and Noxema...

And this was me late Monday night after yet more Benadryl, ice packs and slathering on more Nozema...

Better but not 100%

Today, all the areas that were swollen and puffy are itching like mad and are red, irritated and scaly.  Such a pretty picture isn't it?   Oh wait, there is NO picture for that image because I refuse to take one.   Just let your imagination run wild with how I've described things.

We're pretty sure it was some sort of allergic reaction that caused the swelling and subsequent yuckiness.  I deviated from a 30+ year routine of using NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING on my face except Nozema (seriously folks, I haven't let a bar of soap touch my face since I was 10, or even younger!) to wash with and baby oil or Nuetrogena make-up remover cloths on my eyes.   Saturday night I decided to use one of those make-up remover cloths all over my face and then for some stupid reason,  because those left my face feeling gross, instead of taking my big ass downstairs to scrub with Noxema, I grabbed a bottle of Sea Breeze from the upstairs bathroom and doused my face with that stuff and then rubbed it down with cotton balls.

Stop making that face at me!  I never once have claimed to be a member of MENSA.

Anyhow that's about the only thing I can think of that would have caused a reaction like this.  It's gross, painful, itchy and really unsightly.  

I braved the great outdoors today and took my 42 year old body with it's 92 year old face into the store and got something that my dermatologist recommended that I try to calm and soothe my skin, and to use from now on for removing make-up.   He also just had to remind me that I'm entering an age where my skin may start reacting differently to the products I use on it.  Gee thanks, why not kick me in the boob while you're at it? 

So I bought the cream he recommended and brought it home.  I went to look for it this evening to slather all over my face and couldn't find it.  Anywhere.   I looked everywhere and it was nowhere to be found...until I opened the fridge to grab an adult beverage that I was clearly in need of...

I swear that I did not read "Cold Cream" and think that it needed to be refrigerated.  I didn't...stop making that face at me!  Perhaps, in some super sub-conscious way, I might have.   It's probably a direct result of all the Benadryl I've been taking!   However, I do know better.  Cold cream doesn't really need to be kept in the ice-box!

But I have got to tell you, it sure as hell felt wonderful on my face.   

Maybe I'll just leave it in the fridge.

 

She's Lucky She's so Stinkin' Cute!

It wasn't long ago that I was bitching about how "4" was kicking my ass.   Well now that Gaby can read, "5" is about to do me in. 

Gareth and I spell certain words around her so that she won't repeat them.  They aren't always bad words, or not your typical obscenities anyhow, but she caught me spelling out "D O U C H E W A D."  So, what does  Gaby do?  She goes over to her little desk, grabs a pencil and a piece of paper, writes the word out and sits there and sounds it out.  Then she walks over to me and with the prettiest little smile on her face, she asks me what "douchewad" means...except she pronounced it, Doosh-chewed.  

Once I recovered from nearly choking on an apple I was eating I did what any other decent parent would do.  I lied.  I told her that I had misspelled a word and what I meant to spell was GOOSE WAD...something we throw out on the grass to keep the Canadian Geese from landing on it and pooping everywhere. 

Thankfully I think she bought it.  

However, this brings up another issue.  Now that she can spell,   I owe her $17.00.   Why $17.00?  Well, I made a bargain with her that anytime she hears me swear, I have to put a dollar in her piggy bank...mommy has to "feed the pig."    Technically, I have not been swearing.  I have been spelling!  Let me just tell you, Gaby can sound things out pretty quickly.   She wastes no time in telling me that I need to go "feed the pig!"   

People, I'm broke!  And I'm at my wits end.  How long before she's opening the cupboard in the bathroom and asking me about all those girly-goodies I keep stocked under there?   She's already tried reading a Viagara ad in one of the magazines I have lying around the house.   She walked over to me last week, magazine in hand and opened up to a full page ad showing two people sitting in bathtubs, (out in the open no less) staring off into a gorgeous sunset.   Gaby was able to read some of the ad and she understood that the time was right for something but she didn't understand why they were so happy?  

So, again, I did what any decent parent would do.   I lied. 

I looked at Gaby and I said, "Oh sweetie, the husband is very excited because his wife just bought him a brand new car!  He's very happy so they decided to take a bath outside and watch the beautiful sunset!"  

I thought that would satisfy my ever-curious 5-year-old.  No.  Not really.   Gaby looked at me and asked, "Mommy, what kind of car did she buy him?" 

I didn't even think about my answer at all, it literally just popped out of my mouth.  No double-entendre was intended.   I glanced at Gaby and said,  "A hummer."  

Like I said, it's a good thing she's so cute, otherwise I'd likely have gone 'round the bend ages ago!