Shi* My Kid Ruined: Daily Entry. And Things That Bug Me.

I have a sneaking suspicion that these pen marks are fresh.

They are right next to my bed and I don't recall  them being there yesterday.

There are quite a few pen marks adjacent to these new pen marks that were not easily erased by Mr. Clean Magic Eraser so I just let them go.  My plan was to just paint OVER them with my Sherwin Williams Duration paint that is currently awaiting my usage in the garage, color "Cork Wedge."

As I mentioned in a previous blog, the Duration paint is supposed to be the "most washable" paint in the Sherwin Williams line of paints.

They even have a display set up in the store to show the superior washability of their paints.

You can write on a simulated "their" painted wall and a simulated "our" (i.e. Sherwin Williams) painted wall with a  provided marker.

Go ahead, do it ~  scribble until  your heart is content!

They  also provide you with a cute little spray bottle with plain Jane water and a wet nap to prove the superiority of their product.

"Their" wall  (the competitor) is a mess that has been  jacked up by previous customers attempts with the marker that won't scrub off.  "Our" wall, of course, is pristine.

Now, I quite believe that this little set up is a farce.  Because nothing has EVER come off a wall that I have painted with Duration paint that easily.

Ever.

I am thinking of writing the company with copies of my receipts and asking for my money back.   They have not met a Maggie, obviously.

Which leads me to my next adventure du jour.

Sorry for the blur, but I had to use my "Photo Booth" feature on my MacBook   because I couldn't find my new digital camera.   In other words, I had to take a picture with my computer.  Yea, complicated.  GRRR.

If you are really a creative person, it sort of looks like "I heart you" in cursive.

What I see are scribbles on my garden tub in blue Sharpie.

....AFTER Mr. Clean Magic Eraser did his job scrubbing his little bald genie ass off.

I know what you are thinking:  why don't these dumbasses keep these markers/pens/pencils away from the toddler?

And I maintain:  WE DO!!!!!!!!!!

The Sharpie, I know for a fact, was used earlier today  and was on the kitchen counter far enough away from her reach.

I am MUCH more careful with Sharpies because we have heirloom furniture and artwork that family would surely ostrasize us if we allowed our two year old to ruin.

She has taken to standing on things to get what she wants, though.  So, technically, nothing is out of reach.  She is climbing the pantry shelves, even.  I mean, really.

LAWD, HELP ME.

Why didn't God give us this child when we were in our 20's?   When we were full of energy and didn't need to nap in the afternoons?  

I'm going to gripe about one more thing, then I'm going to say a positive.

Does it bug you when someone doesn't accept your friend request on Facebook and you KNOW she knows who you are and you were part of the same "friend group" in high school?

And also,  you KNOW she is active on Facebook because you made a comment on a mutual friend's picture, and then SHE made a comment on that same friends' picture?

 SO YOU KNOW that she saw your friend request, so she is just ignoring your request?    Yeah, it bugs me.

It feels like I am back in high school again.

Totally.  I hated high school.  It was a stupid bitch of a time in my life and I never thought I would have to re-live it again.  Then Facebook happened.  And HELLOOOO???

The positive:  I finished a book today and it was totally awesome.

It took me a bit longer to get into, because I am used to vapid vampire books,  Us Weekly and People (mostly for the pictures).

But this was totally worth it.  It has been a long, long time that I felt sad that I finished a book.  I loved the house.  I loved the characters.  I loved the whole thing.

I'm starting this one now:

It probably won't take me long to get into because it is more my pace.

I'll let you know how I like it when I am finished.

Please send good vibes and prayers that nothing else is ruined tonight, though.  It will be highly appreciated.

Thanks.

The Usual Topic of Poop and Couch to 5K

I have speculated before about how horrible a bowel attack would be during an outdoor jog.

(It just occurred to me that I talk about poop a lot in my blog...as in: I must seem a bit pre-occupied with the topic. Just to refer to me as the "girl who is obsessed with bowel movements." I'm okay with that.)

It has never happened to me before ,but today I was moved to tears, a cold sweat, and a full blown sprint at a speed I never believed I could achieve.

A few years ago I remember listening to a morning show in which the discussion led to bowel attacks while driving.

This has happened to everyone, I am quite certain of it. It is a horrible feeling to be trapped in traffic and have to go to the bathroom. You begin to outweigh the pros and cons of actually crapping your pants and the messy consequences that this action would ultimately result in.

"You can take an nonreligious person," the talk show host said, "and put them in a car with an impending bout of diarrhea. Suddenly, the person starts crying out, 'Awwwwwww, Jesus! Jesus, pullllllleeeeeeeeeeeasssse help me!'"

Although I am what one would call a "religious person," my desperate repertoire included a few "help me, Gods" and a lot of "awwwwwww, f**k me's!"

These phrases quickly became a pathetic mantra, if you will.

I began the Couch to 5K program about six weeks ago.

I am currently on day one of week six and have gained weight. (That is a gripe for another day.)

Today's workout involved the the five minute warm-up walk, followed by five minutes of jogging, three minutes of walking, eight minutes of jogging, a three minute walk, five minute jog, and finally a five minute cool down walk.

I got pretty far from home by the time the first twinges hit me. My stomach boiled, gurgled. I began to panic.

I cursed myself for venturing so far from my house.

The situation deteriorated quickly. I began to assess the trees around me...and the brush began to look pretty good. But by this time, my house was in distant view and I believed I could make it. It would result in much angst, but I could do it.

I broke into a crazy sprint and cut across a busy road. I bound through my backyard and flung open the door.

My startled kids looked at me with concern. "Mom, are you okay," one asked as I barrelled past them towards the master bathroom.

The door was locked.

Expletives followed.

I suppose it wasn't so surprising that the door was locked as it often is due to the fact that the two year old has a new fascination with bathrooms and toilet paper. She has been known to splash around in and throw toys into the toilet.

I fumbled with the key, kicked open the door and tore into bathroom.

I vowed to never run outside again ~ we have a gym membership, for goodness sake. I can exercise in air conditioned relative comfort with a wall of televisions in front of me.

I suppose I didn't truly finish my first day of week six of my Couch to 5K program, so I suppose I will have to do a do-over.

On a treadmill.

At the gym.

With a bathroom in view.

Today's experience stuck a chord primal fear in me that will take quite some time to overcome.

Thelma Minus Louise Moments and Broken Dishes

I wrote this earlier today, but had to set it aside and come back to it later. I was in the middle of a stressed moment, and I was worried that it had a desperate tone to it. I don't want to sound desperate.

I said the magic words super early this morning.

Usually they are reserved for mid-afternoon at the earliest, but I just couldn't do it anymore. By 9am you could stick a fork in me ~ I was SO done.

"Would you like to watch Yo Gabba Gabba, Maggie," I asked.

The response was wildly enthusiastic, as usual. She snapped to attention, did a pivot turn and ran (as much as a toddler can without bending her knees) towards the television set squealing with delight.

Parenting purists, or whatever those annoying people are called, are probably paling and feeling faint. But yes, at times I do use television as a babysitter. THERE. I admitted it.

And this was whole-heartedly, 100%, one of those times.

Chris has been out of town for four days, hence the lack of a "mental" break from the children. They are ALL mine. ALL my responsibility.

Some mothers revel in this kind of shiz and rise to the occasion, but honestly, it sort of freaks me out. I mean, it is totally up to ME to keep them healthy and ultimately, alive.

If I happened to check out and say "adios," or pull a Thelma-minus-Louise routine, there would be serious implications.

And folks, it's only 10:02 a.m.

And I am feeling a bit Thelma-ish day today.

I don't know how single mothers do it. Really. They are rarely given the props that they so desperately deserve. Seriously, they rock.

I was a single mother for a while and I fully believe that God blessed me with a dream of a child. Calvin was such a good baby and toddler. The "eleven and twelve year old" Calvin? Ehhh, not so much. But he has rebounded nicely and I couldn't be prouder of him.

Anywho, I hadn't necessarily recovered from yesterday. By the time Maggie went to bed at 7pm, my entire body was buzzing with the uncomfortable anxiety that precipitates the necessity of me popping a pill.

The anxiety was triggered by several things. For one, Maggie lost my driver's license.

I noticed how nicely she was playing with my wallet and made the erroneous decision not to mess with a good thing. Hey, she was quiet and occupied with something that wouldn't kill or maim her.

I let it go on for a little while, but when I looked at her again, I realized that she was taking each card out of the wallet and sliding them under the refrigerator.

"NO! No, no, no, no, no," I shrieked as I ran over and very quickly gathered the scattered contents as fast as I could.

Upon further investigation, I very quickly realized (as I got the wooden spoon out with the long handle) that there was no room to fit the handle. There was barely enough room to get a credit card under, no WONDER she was so quiet.

I fetched a long, serrated knife, slid it under the appliance and began fishing. I retrieved an insurance card, my hair stylist's business card, my Flagler County library card. I couldn't feel anything else and all of the credit/debit cards were accounted for.

It wasn't until later I realized that my driver's license was gone.

This wouldn't be SUCH a big deal, but I find that I am asked for my driver's license so much more in Florida than in Iowa. Got a doctor's appointment? Need your driver's license. Want to sign a kid up for something? Anything? Need your driver's license. They take proper identification seriously in Florida.

Oh, and I have "SEE I.D." emblazoned on the back of every single plastic form of payment that I carry in my wallet.

Shortly after the wallet incident, Maggie decided she was going to empty a cabinet so she could climb inside. Most of the contents weren't breakable, but she found the one thing that was and tossed it out onto the ceramic tile.

It was a large, Pyrex baking dish with a lid. Was. It is currently in our trash can in no less than 1,000 pieces.

Not even 30 minutes later, she had opened the dishwasher, found a salad plate to toss at the startled dog.

And so it went.

As I have been writing over the past hour or so, she broke another plate. As I was preparing her evening cereal, I heard the "clink" of a toilet seat and then some splashing.

"NO! No, no, no, no no," I shrieked, running to the boys' bathroom. Doors are supposed to be closed in our house, but the bathroom door was somehow left open.

But she was quiet for a moment.

Nothing good comes from a quiet 18 month old.