Behind every great tragedy is sleep deprivation
I should be sleeping even now, you know, but once I’ve crossed some invisible barrier between Sleeping Enough and Not Sleeping Enough it’s hard to cross back. I’m exhausted but I’m wide awake. It’s a lovely dichotomy, not unlike when I try on a pair of jeans that cut off the circulation in my thighs while gapping sufficiently through the waist to hold two dozen Krispy Kreme donuts.
Actually, I guess it’s pretty well not at all like that, and also that I should clarify that I have never stuffed donuts into pants I was trying on. Or pants I was wearing. Or pants, period.
About two more nights of this and I may consider it, though. Heck, donuts in the pants sounds downright festive right now.
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Party time (almost)
Tonight was time to Prepare For The Party. On account of, I require Crafty Friend to assist with these sorts of things, and this was the night she could come help me. The only other option was Friday, and as the party is on Saturday, that seemed to be cutting it a little close, even for me. As of today, we have 6 girls coming to the bakery with us for the party. And also I believe there was a bottle of wine, tonight. Not sure. It’s gone now. (What time is it? Crap. This work thing, it’s cutting into my blogging. Right now? While I’m writing? Still tipsy.) (See how inebriated Mir manages to focus the picture perfectly on… the tabletop. Wow.)
You know how the mother guilt drives me into the land of arts and crafts where I SO do not belong. But you know, I go to the craft store and buy stuff and then pretty much just cross my fingers and hope it works out in the end. Usually it does. Or I’m too drunk to notice. I’m not really sure. 
Anyway. We had wine to decorate and aprons to drink! I mean, aprons to decorate and wine to drink. I mean, damn, it’s good that Crafty Friend holds her liquor better than me. Look at her go! And what little girl doesn’t want an adorable, personalized apron as a party favor? Not a one, I tell you. COME ON. There’s GLITTER here!
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Dinner at my house
“Okay! Let’s all sit down and eat! This is great. I love this. So. Let’s talk about our days. What happened today that was exciting? Hello? Anyone? Alright, I know; let’s see. I went to work for ten hours, and Monkey peed in his pants. Wow, that’s exciting!”
*crickets chirp*
“That’s not exciting, Mama. Can I have another roll?”
She would if she loved me
I had something really elaborate and insightful that I wanted to share with you tonight. It was the sort of post that would’ve garnered comments from even the most recalcitrant lurkers, and you all would’ve been deeply moved by my insight. The flash of brilliance astounded even me.
Aaaaaaand… then I decided to post this, instead.
I don’t ask for much. (Stop laughing.) I think I’m generally kind and polite to the servicepeople I depend upon. I appreciate the services they provide and I’m an excellent tipper. Mostly I believe in sucking up to those who do important things for you which you cannot (for whatever reason) accomplish without them. It’s a give and take kind of thing. Once I patronize a provider for a while, I figure we have a relationship that runs a little deeper, you know?
Which is why I am so bewildered about what happened this afternoon.
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What to Expect When You Didn’t Expect It
I was catching up on blogs tonight, and realized that I read an awful lot of women who are pregnant/adopting/expecting in some way. There’s something about the anticipatory joy of motherhood (fine; parenthood, but I’m reading women, here). I find it very compelling; partially because that stage of life is behind me, and partially because there is nothing quite like the empty canvas that is the dream of raising a child.
When you’re expecting, you picture the wonderful ways in which your life will change and your child will cause your heart to swell every moment of every day. Then, too, people insist on telling you about the downside–the dirty diapers, the colic, the toys strewn across the floor. No matter, you tell yourself! It’s all part of the package; everyone knows that. And it is.
But there are some things for which nothing can prepare you.
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Joss, please don’t kill me
I could write about the sun being out or the errands I ran yesterday or all the things I need to do today or the fact that Monkey is now suffering from my headache-and-fever malady of last weekend or that I have LESS! THAN! ONE! WEEK! to finish up things for Chickadee’s birthday party. (Remember the capes from Monkey’s birthday? Because I am incapable of learning from my mistakes, we’re making aprons for Chickadee’s party! Yes!) (Shut UP.)
But, no. We’ll not be talking about any of that, right now. Instead we’ll be talking about HOW FREAKING COOL it is that Joshilyn‘s pretty, pretty book arrived in the mail yesterday.
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Dictatorship for your own good
I’m watching 20/20. On a Friday night. In my sweatpants. While drinking… cold water. Because I am a PARTY ANIMAL.
So there’s this piece on Weyco, a benefit management company that instituted a no-smoking policy. No big deal, right? You can’t smoke at work just about anywhere, anyway.
Not exactly. Weyco instituted a zero-tolerance policy on nicotine use, period. Employees were subject to random screenings and if nicotine was detected, they were terminated. The story was about whether or not this was legal, blah blah blah, Big Brother is watching yooouuuuuu, etc. And I don’t mean to make light of the greater ramifications of something like this.
Please disregard the giggles of glee that escaped while I watched this story.
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Please leave a message at the beep
Greetings, readers of Blogging Baby! Thanks for stopping by. I’m either away from my desk or on another blog right now, but I’m sorry to have missed your visit.
Just in case you need to know more about me, please read this entire message.
I’m a happy homeowner. Sometimes, I do my own repairs. Which is part of why I decided to found a Mommune, complete with specific rules.
Last summer I had a hysterectomy, and was a cranky convalescent. This was followed by ongoing hormone hell.
I don’t really talk about my job, but I was out of work for a long time. After revising my resume, I had some interview adventures. Really. But then I wrote a silly cover letter that got me hired someplace cool.
I’m often conflicted. Sometimes I’m an idiot. Occasionally I’m just plain happy.
*BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP*
I’m aware that the end is grasping at straws
It was 65 degrees outside today. Anyone visiting my site from Texas or Florida or anyplace warm is cordially invited to shut it; for us, this was a monumental day. Today was the first day this year where I could say with utter certainty that YES, winter is OVER.
[Pardon me while I take a brief pause to engage in the ceremonial springtime bonfire. Feel free to throw any salt-and-dirt-crusted snowpants onto the pyre, as well as any ice scrapers, warming cables, and the like that you wish to dispose of. Those little canisters of lock de-icer make a nice popping sound when they heat up, you know.]
Where was I? Oh yes! Warm! Lovely! And still light out after work/school. Doesn’t that sound like a nice day to ride bikes? I thought so! Because I am not very bright!
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C’mon, get happy
The thing about hating everyone and everything is that it requires a lot of energy. I’m not saying I’m not up to the task, you understand; but it’s pretty hard to sustain, even for me. I have to stop and rest every so often. It’s just common sense.
So today, despite my best efforts to continue being a tremendous harpy towards those around me, I cheered up.
Damn.
But it wasn’t my fault. I’m only human.
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