Happy Mother's Day to All you Moms

Woke up at 5:45 on Friday...started thinking of my day.

I'd taken the afternoon off from work so Bellie and I could have some quality time which would include shopping for Nana - Mother's Day and all that.

I realized at around 6 AM that I couldn't do that because Nana would be using my car to go to an all day seminar. It was a rough week at work and I'd been really looking forward to the afternoon out with Bellie so, to say the least, I was disappointed.

Bellie woke up around 7:15 and we started our day. I work at home on Fridays.

I made coffee and she ate a banana and some 'yogrit'. She can say yogurt...but she likes to say 'yogrit'.

Just before 8 AM I started working and Bellie settled in for her Justice League marathon. Sort of. Usually, Nana watches her while I work so she was...ahh...lacking some attention.

I managed to get through my first two conference calls with very minor interruptions.

I'm sure it's totally understandable that she prefers to eat her Special K in my bed...straight out of the bag. Except for the portions she carefully poured into the little boxes she found and then thoughtfully put in my nightstand drawers.

Anyway...during the third conference call, I actually had to put the caller on mute as I answered Bellie's question about whether her day-of-the-week underwear were for the right day.

I'm not sure it mattered except she was wearing them on her head and we wouldn't want anyone thinking she doesn't pay attention to detail.

Got through with my half-day of work and explained to Bellie that we couldn't go anywhere because we didn't have the car.

She only asked about it 5 or 6 more times over the next couple of hours.

Did 3 loads of laundry and cleaned the house - the ENTIRE time feeling guilty because I'd promised Bellie a fun afernoon. Which included a trip to the park in addition to the shopping.

Nana was supposed to be home by 4...so at 5:30 I called and discovered she had gotten lost but was almost home.

Breathe.

Just before 6, Nana rolled in. I rushed Bellie to the car and off we went.

But she wanted to go to the park first. Which didn't fit into my schedule because then we'd be rushed at the park. So I took a very unwilling Bellie shopping.

She came around until we were leaving the store at which point she decided that she was too old to hold my hand in a parking lot.

This resulted in me doing that smiley-mom talk to her through gritted teeth all the way to the car as I tried to look like I wasn't kidnapping someone else's child. And carried all the stuff we bought.

A nice woman was watching us. Lovely. She approached me and actually, rather than giving me a lecture on parenting as I had feared, she had locked her keys in her trunk. She was wondering if Bellie might reach her arm through the crack that was left as the window was barely rolled down.

Right. Bellie won't even look at strangers. It's really bad lately...she actually crosses her arms and makes a face that's full of thunder. It doesn't bother me so much what people think but I hate that Bellie feels that way. And, it does make me a little sad that people don't see what a cool kid she is.

Anyway - against all better judgement, I tried to convince Bellie that it would be such a nice thing to help this lady.

No such luck.

I've promised Bellie we'll get the stuff for ice cream sundaes and am tempted to take that away because she didn't help (and I'm tired and frustrated). But that's not fair so we stop and pick the fixin's. She held my hand in the parking lot this time.

Anyway - about 6:45 now...dinner time. So what that NH has just filled the cupboards and fridge...we're stopping at KFC.

Grab some food to go...picnic at the park sounds great. We got home and Bellie is bound and determined to ride her bike to the park.

It would be so much easier to drive with the food. Argh. Ok...bike it is.

She rode to the park and we had our picnic. It was nice.

Time to go...rode the bike home. She made it all the way even though she 'was too tired and thought I should carry her bike'.

Friday is Stay-Up-Later-Night...movies and treats. It used to be Stay-Up-Late-Night but that kid can stay up til the wee hours.

We got our ice cream sundaes ready and settled in to watch more of the Justice League.

I was exhausted.

Finally, time for bed. Which has become a feat since it triggers Bellie's fear that Ursula will get her if she's in her own bed.

Several ups and downs...with me growing less patient each time and finally, I get her to sleep.

It's 11:15 or so.

I've just spent about 18 hours straight with a 4 year-old. Granted, one that I love with everything I have....but a 4 year-old all the same.

So when NH comments on my irritability, I calmly explain that all my energy has been sucked out and I'm a little crabby.

"Yeah....but you're her mom," he responds. Innocently.

Everything in me wanted to defend myself right then...as if I shouldn't be tired or crabby. Instead, I just stared at him for a moment.

And I thought to myself 'yes...I am'.

Happy Mother's Day.

Who knows if I write this more for me or for her...but here's to my little girl as she turns four.

This year I've watched you turn from toddlerish to little girl. I remember one year ago...flying across the Atlantic with you...you were such a baby. So incredibly dependent on me.

Which, at the time, was so extremely draining...even when I loved it because it was you.

This year you've begun what will be a journey into the world.

Without me.

I can only hear about your day now and I realize this is just the beginning. I ask what you did in preschool and you say 'nothin''. Because you just had your regular day. It wasn't a big deal to you.

I'm looking for every moment but I just let the 'nothin'' be. When it's more than that, you'll say.

Like when you didn't care for the feeling of being the 'new kid'. When you told me nobody would play with you because you were new, I smiled and told you everyone is new sometime....inside, wondering if there was any way to never have you experience that again...knowing the answer.

I see as you struggle to come to terms with the schedule you have between homes...and I know that, also, will be ongoing. I saw you determine that your dad doesn't like me and while I want to buffer you from that, it is the life you have and you must learn to navigate.

I hear you talk to me about me being a working mother...and know you have begun to realize we have separate lives...and you don't like it. I've regretted every snap and impatient moment I've had caused by having only the few short hours between work and bedtime. And I've learned patience during those hours.

I've heard 'I can do it!' a thousand times over the last year. Second only is "Let ME do it!" And you can do so much now. Even if it means cleaning up more messes and taking more time to get things done...I've enjoyed watching you accomplish all the new things you have.

I'll always let you crack all the eggs when we cook.

I watched you go from not being able to make the bike move to cruising at a speed that makes my heart lurch. Saying to myself the whole time 'she can do it'...and using all my will not to grab you when you falter.

It's really something...protecting you from harm...every little thing - real or imagined...for the last several years...and now realizing (or rather admitting) that you'll have to take some lumps.

And I have to let you.

I've watched you say goodbye to two uncles...as they passed through our lives and onto their own. One of them being the 'tallest man in the world'. Well, daughter-mine, you changed his life and that's a fact.

I see you adjusting to our new life...the sharing of attention. I've struggled with how to do it and what to do...and you're fine. You're happy. And even better than that, you tell me when you aren't. You're a fantastic communicator.

I'm so proud of who you are so far. Not in a 'I made you' sort of way....more of a 'you're going to do alright' sort of way. I watch you take joy in being kind...in sharing and giving. You're not a greedy child...and you take 'no' very well.

In most cases. Let's not get carried away here.

You have a will that is even stronger than mine and often, I feel I'm trying to catch up just to be in the game. Sometimes, I'm so amazed by you that I can't even keep a straight face. But you know this already.

You're a master at dry humor...and plain, old childlike humor. We laugh a lot around here.

I guess I could go on and on but there's just not enough time.

Mostly, I just want to say...carry on, child, you're doing a damn good job in this funny thing called life.

Superheroes

Bellie has recently developed an obsession with all things Superhero.

She wears Superman pajamas - cape included - almost every night. She wants to have a Superhero themed birthday party.

Anyway - last night was 'stay up late night' which means we rent movies and eat junk food til Bellie is ridiculously hyped up and then I try to get her to bed.

Works pretty well. (eyeroll) But it's fun.

She chose the Justice League as her movie last night...all the Superheroes saving the world in various ways.

When it starts out - each Superhero makes an appearance and Bellie called their names out in excitement.

"BATMAN!!!"

"WONDERWOMAN!!!"

"SUPERMAN!!!!"

"GREEN LANTERN!!!!"

"JOHN!!!!"

Um...is there really a superhero named John? I had to know.

"Bellie - is his name really John?"

"No. But I don't know what it is so I just call him 'John'."

She cracks me up.

***Note - it turns out the superhero's name is John. Who knew?

It must be my turn...

...for a bad driver's license picture.

I've been really lucky. My pictures have always been good on my license.

Well, if not good, at least not unflattering.

Even when I had to get my license renewed when I was 7 months pregnant - I didn't look fat in the picture. (And trust me, even my face looked fat in real life.)

But today, I got my new license in the mail.

HOLY CRAP!

It's like they switched my real photo with one of Drunk-or-High-Hillbilly-Jenn.

For real.

First of all, the camera must have been on the ground and they lied to me about where to look. Because the photo is from a strange angle...or I was looking up at exactly the time the picture was taken. I don't remember looking up. I am always neurotic about looking at that dot or line they tell you to look at.

Second - my eyes are only half-open. A good look for anyone, to be sure.

Third - and I have no idea how this is even possible - but there is a nice-sized gap between my two front teeth. (as far as gaps go...)

Which you can see because, evidently, the photographer must have told a hilarious joke and I smiled really big right as the camera clicked.

I'd love to post a picture of it...it's really funny. But, alas, my cat broke my camera.

Really.

Reeeally?

NH and I were talking about Bellie. How she's super cute.

The conversation turned to which parts of her resembled me.

NH said, "If we ever have a baby, I hope she has your eyes and your lips."

Me: But not my nose?

NH (after thoughtfully looking at my nose): Well, your nose would be fine for a boy.

Does everyone else think that's as funny as I do? I guess I have a man nose.

Sweet

So my birthday is this week. I'm not posting for good wishes...it's just a time of year when it's natural to reflect on years gone by...for me, anyway.

In the mirror these days, I see some gray hairs...lines around my eyes...a little belly where my flat stomach used to be...

These things I see.

But what I know is that I'll take the gray hairs, lines around my eyes, and even a little belly for what I've been through. And I'll do it gladly.

And not all bad - by no means do I mean that. I've had some good things in my life...really good things.

Mostly good things. In retrospect, sometimes.

I don't think I'd be twenty again if someone told me I could do it all over again with the knowledge I have now.

It was in the living for me...the experiences and richness of life.

And yeah...some of it sucked rocks.

But, damn, I'm so much smarter now. I wouldn't be twenty again for anything.

Let's not get crazy or anything, I'm smart enough to know I've still got some bumps coming.

But then, I can bump back now.

So I'll take the gray hairs, lines around the eyes....and, yes, even a little belly.

It's totally worth it.

My L'il Stinker

Bellie has developed a recent fascination with gas.

Not gasoline. Farts. And I'm over trying to teach her not to say "fart". Not worth the argument - even though when she says it, I cringe because she's so cute and the word is so gross.

A few nights ago, she passed gas.

I reminded her to say 'excuse me'.

Bellie: Why?

Me: Because you're tooty.

Bellie: No I'm not. I farted.

Me: You didn't toot? You farted? What's the difference?

Her: A toot is like this (makes small, cute sound with her lips) and a fart is like this (makes really drippy, loud farty noise with her lips).

Me: Oh. Yep. You farted.

******

Last night while I was rocking her before bed she let one rip again.

But she said excuse me. Good girl.

A few moments later she said, "Mom!? What is that stinky smell??? P.U.!!!!"

Me: Um...that's you. You farted.

Bellie: Farts don't stink.

Me: Yes, sometimes, they do.

Bellie: Well, I didn't do that. You must have.

*****
I've also heard her say "Whew! I'm really windy today!" (she got that from a movie)

Is anybody listening?

OK. Seriously...I've had it.

Why...WHY...does Britney qualify as news?

I'm listening about our presidential election...because, really...that's kind of a big deal.

Y'know?

And there hasn't really been one time when the politics aren't followed by "...and next up, Britney's released from the hospital..." 0r "...next, we'll talk about whether Britney is suffering from mind control...".....

I'm so over Britney.

I get that she has issues. But is she really as important as who might possibly be Commander in Chief?

Seriously?

And it's not just the entertainment shows anymore...it's EVERY FLIPPIN' CHANNEL!

Come ON! Anderson Cooper....Matt Lauer....GAH!

How do they even keep a straight face?

Ok. Rant over.

My Brother

In my family, my immediate family…the one I grew up with, there are two brothers and a sister. And my mother.

My mom who raised us all without much help at all from either father. It was just the 5 of us - my dad's extended family fell away when my parents divorced when I was 7 and my mom's extended family fell away when her parents died.

We grew up close and we grew up well. Each one of us is a strong individual and each one of us would lay down and die if it would help one of the others. Luckily, it hasn't come to that.

Last spring, my youngest brother needed a place to live. So he came to me. Not too long after that, my other younger brother found himself in the same situation. Come along, I said. Maybe you can help get the youngest one in order.

My mom already lived with me. She moved in when I left The Idiot to help me through the divorce. That living arrangement is a whole different story.

Anyhoo - it's been a crazy ride, this last 9 or so months.

My youngest brother headed out late last summer. What I'm driven to write about, today, is my other brother.

I believe he's getting ready to leave. He's always been a wanderer. It's part of who he is. And as much as he'll take a corner of my heart with him (as he always does), I know he has to go.

It's been hard.

Don't get me wrong - it's been good, too. My house is just too small for all of us and the financial strain cannot be denied (nor truly endured for much longer).

He has a rather, um, large presence. He's funny and he's loud. Bellie adores him. She says he's the biggest man in the world.

One of the things he did here was to wean himself off heroin. He came here on a methadone program and over the summer dropped the dose rapidly til he was completely rid of it.

Do you like how I just drop that tidbit of information in here?

Anyway…he's been on drugs in one form or another for the last 15 years or so. I don't want to give the homeless, dirty image…if you didn't know him, you might not have guessed he was an addict. Heroin was the one that scared me the most though.

So as much as the weaning process was a terrible thing to see…the shakes, the groaning…the sweats and flails…not to mention the absolute deluge of emotions to him…I’m glad he did it and I’m glad I could offer him a safe place.

And since then, he's faced the world as many of us have. Getting and keeping a job that he hates because he needs money. Living day to day just to get by sometimes. Having heartbreak actually hurt. Looking back at all the years…

Do I get mad at him when he leaves his dirty dishes in the sink? Yep.

Do I get crabby when he makes too much noise when I'm trying to sleep? Yep.

Did I scream at him for tracking mud into my recently scrubbed kitchen floor? (shamefacedly) Yup.

Do I get tired of the crazy family dynamics? Oh my God - so tired.

Do I sometimes wish I just lived alone? Most definitely.

I wish for him more in his life than he's ever had and I hope he walks a path that is blessed by whatever guardian angel needs to bless it.

I write this today in an effort to prepare myself for his leaving.

While the space he will leave is welcome and necessary - I will be tinged with sadness as I watch him go.

Lynilu got me!

Tagged by Lynilu...

Link to the person that tagged you and post the rules on your blog.
Share 5 random and/or weird facts about yourself on your blog.
Share the 5 top places on your "want to see or want to see again" list.

Tag a minimum of 5, maximum of 10 random people at the end of your post and include links to their blogs.

Let each person know that they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

So here goes:

(I'm cheating - I can't think of 5 random/weird facts about me that I haven't already shared so I'm going to share 5 random/weird facts about Bellie.)

1. I believe Bellie is a sugar junkie. Seriously. I know all kids like sugar but she's got a sugar problem.

2. She spends so much time around adults that she has almost perfect comedic timing. Some of the things she says wouldn't be funny if an adult said them...but coming out of her mouth with her cute little voice...HILARITY!!! Strangers laugh...this isn't just me saying it.

3. She has a spectacular vocabulary...I just tucked her in and did the "don't call me unless you're scared, sick, or have to go to the bathroom" schpeal. (Otherwise, it's "Mama...Hey Mama!"every 2 minutes.)

To which she responded, "Or if I have a wound." Right. If you get wounded...call me.

4. She likes Kid Rock music. But I like to think she doesn't hear the words. (This was an accidental discovery...and the CD didn't stay on long.)

5. She thinks it's totally acceptable to tell me "I've had enough of your attitude". I'm working on that. (Not the attitude - her perception that she can say that to me.)

Now - 5 places I'd like to go...for the first time or again...

1. Ireland
2. South of France
3. Australia
4. Hawaii
5. The Alamo (totally kidding...)
5. For real....hmmm...maybe New Zealand...?

As to tagging 5 bloggers...I'm so remiss in my blogging, I hate to do that. Let's say - if you read it and you like it - take it.

Christmas is Over

Whew!

What a roller-coaster two days! Bellie was with her Dad on Christmas Eve and Christmas -til 5 PM.

I have to admit it was much more relaxing to do all the Santa stuff in a leisurely fashion during the day rather than try to sneak around after she was in bed. I'll skip most of that stuff and go right to our Christmas.

On Bellie's Christmas wish list there was: a toolbench and several (very specific) baby dolls. She's kind of a maternal tom-boy.

Anyway, she got all of that. But the toolbench was not wrapped...just set up with a giant bow on it. So she played with that for quite a while as we all sat and watched...piles and piles of presents sitting under the tree. So cute!

Eventually her interest moved to the other presents and my living room became a sea of shredded wrapping paper and ribbons. Everyone was pleased with their gifts and it was a wonderful time.

Bellie was definitely covered in the present area...she got gifts from NH's family as well as mine. And Santa definitely treated her well this year....I let him give all the good stuff.

Anyway - after all the presents were unwrapped and I had taken 4 bags of trash out, Bellie said to me, "Mama...didn't you get me anything for Christmas?" (It was a curious question...not at all greedy.)

Classic. I couldn't even think 0f anything to say.

Even more classic was that there was actually one present under the tree that had been missed.

It was from me to her.

It was pajamas.

She was so unimpressed.

Motherhood is so not about glory.

I can no longer say...

...that I haven't been up all night with a sick child.

I feel fortunate that it took til she was 3 1/2.

Bellie woke up last night and told me she had to go to the bathroom. So I took her to the bathroom and perched myself on the little stool by the toilet to wait.

We were facing each other and our heads were level so when she projectile vomited...well...you can imagine.

That was an experience.

More than that, though, was the expression on her face. She's never thrown up. I mean, there was the very occasional spit-up when she was an infant...but since then, never.

Her face seemed to say "WHAT the HELL?? DID YOU SEE THAT?!?!?!"

I almost laughed except the reality of the situation had hit me. Literally.

I got us cleaned up...her first, of course...managed not to puke myself...and tucked her into bed with me.

Which of course led to several trash emptying sessions and a load of laundry.

Rookie mistake. Or not...whatever.

The main thing I was reminded of is how damn amazing kids are. They don't whine and complain about being sick. At her age, anyway.

She'd tell me she had to throw up, wretch horribly into whatever receptacle we could get to, appear as if she may turn inside out with the effort, ask me to wipe her face and hands, and then lay back down as if nothing had happened.

That tiny body seeming to compact itself by a third at least.....her little ashen face with the crazy hair all about....I tell you what, I'd be sick as a dog any day (or night) to avoid having to watch her go through it.

But then, that's not how it works is it?

Warms a mother's heart...

...to dress her girl up and have this happen:

Bellie is on the left.

These are the days my friend...

....we thought they'd never end...

So I took Bellie to the grocery store today. We often do this on the weekend. And it's become a bit of a tradition that we go in our pajamas right after we get up on Sundays.

Y'know...beat the church crowd. (Heathens, aren't we?)

Well, she wears her pajamas. I wear yoga pants and a t-shirt or something.

ANYhoo...today, I told her to get dressed because it's flippin' freezing here. A minor debate ensued for which the outcome - while I like to call it a compromise - went to Bellie.

She got to pick her own clothes and wear them over her pajamas. I didn't get a picture so you'll have to use your imagination...

Her pants were red fleece from last year....way too tight and definitely high-waters. Her shirt was a Popeye shirt The Idiot bought her that is a size 7-8. (Incidently, if one were shopping for a shirt that would actually fit, one would purchase a size 4T...) Over the shirt is a black velour hoodie...pretty cute... alone. Add to this some really bright turquoise socks and a pair of red Crocs. On the wrong feet.

Fantastic.

BUT - there's more. This girl's got a head of hair on her that is insane if not managed. So I threw it up in a messy bun. There - ready to go!

At the store, much to my delight, there was a shopping cart with one of those plastic cars attached to the front. The one's that the kids can sit in and honk and pretend to drive.

I hate those. They're a pain in the ass to push.

But Bellie saw it so we used it.

At one point, I was filling our giant water jugs and Bellie was getting impatient in her little buggy. There was a good-sized crowd around...apparently, everyone is out of water.

Bellie asked if she could get out of the cart and I said sure. So she did.

And right as she got to the center of the crowd, she said, "Mama! I HAVE A GIANT WEDGIE!!"

As I turned to look at her, she was already resolving the issue. With gusto.

I could not have been more proud. (Eye-roll.)

Uh. Mah. Gah.

Seriously...this is gross.

I was so proud of myself because I joined a gym. I won't mention any names but think Village People.

It is the downtown location so pretty snazzy. Really...it's nice.

I went for a couple weeks regularly and was just starting to feel good about it...and it was almost a habit. I even rented a locker so I wouldn't talk myself out of going because I had to carry a gym bag around. (I've done that before...)

So imagine my absolute horror when, as I swung my locker open, I saw a cockroach resting happily (I assume...or at least content) on the backpack hanging in the locker.

Just sitting there as if it owned the backpack. It didn't even bother to scurry away as the light hit it. Maybe it had just finished a workout and was too exhausted to move.

I slowly backed away to grab a gigantic wad of paper towels with which to crush the life from this beasty bug. I had to be stealthy because I knew if I returned with the paper towels of death and the nasty thing was gone, I'd have to set fire to the locker.

Before dressing, which I had to do....or go back to work in my yoga pants and t-shirt that says 'Flippin' the Bird' with pictures of a chicken flipping on it...I turned all my clothes inside out and shook them around like a crazy person. I'm pretty sure everyone thought I was mad. In the lost-her-mind kind of way.

I canceled my membership and asked for a refund. Which they will happily provide. However, the schmoozy lady that called me this morning offered to give me my money back, let me have the locker for free, AND use the club for another 2 weeks free while I'm making my mind up about whether or not I'll stay on. She said they don't have the cockroach problem very often.

Uh. I don't think so.

Some things ya just can't unsee.

Oh the Christmas Spirit overcomes me...

I decided to get some shots of Bellie out in our oh-so-decorated yard (which you can't really see in any of the pictures because she wasn't in the mood to pose).

The thought being I could make some cute Christmas cards.

Then, as we got started, I remembered she was three. Or, rather, she reminded me. The pictures that might look like she's irritated at me...they're not mistakes. She was irritated at me. I give her another year before she masters the eye-roll.

So here's our photo shoot - I left all the pictures I took so you could enjoy it like I did:




I got some good ones...it'll be hard to choose!

On not writing

...I got nothin'.

Well - for about 3 weeks, my home computer was so slow on the internet I didn't even check my bank balance. So I finally called the responsible company - sounds like west....

Anyway, the helpful lady on the phone said, "Yes! I can see your connection is slower than dial up!"

It was one of those that unplugging the modem for a minute then plugging it back in solved. Glad I waited 3 weeks.

So anyway - I'm a grumpy gus today. Bellie was with her dad yesterday and came home a complete wreck...as has been the situation for the past few weeks.

The Idiot has decided it's time for her to stop taking naps. She takes 2 hour naps at home. And still sleeps 10-11 hours at night. I figure she'll stop taking naps when she's ready.

Anyway - it took her almost all week to catch up on sleep after spending last weekend with him. Imagine her tiny face with dark circles under her red-rimmed eyes...quite irritating. He didn't give her a nap yesterday either.

So I got "Crazy-Contrary" Bellie back. It's quiet spectacular, actually. Crazy-Contrary Bellie was hungry and the only thing she wanted to eat was an entire brick of cream cheese.

Gross.

I tried offering her a quarter of the brick with the promise of more if she ate that. No luck. We went 'round and 'round til she finally dropped off to sleep a little after her bedtime.

And I felt sorry for myself. Well - that's not really accurate. I felt lonely. It was one of those lonelies that would have been there had I been surrounded by people.

It happens ever so often - it just hits me that I'm it for her. There's nobody else with the connection to her that I have or that will give her what I will. I'm not trying to be all dramatic or anything...and I know there are as many single mothers out there as...well as there are. And some of them are lucky enough to have a father to their child(ren) that is good. And some of them are unlucky enough to have one that is far worse than the one I do.

But sometimes, it just feels lonely. Even with help and even with a hand to hold.

Trick or Treat

When I explained Trick or Treat to Bellie, she was just amazed that one could simply knock on a stranger's door and get candy.

I think she may have felt a little betrayed that I had not shared this information with her sooner. But I could have been reading into the situation.

So she got all costumed up...the cutest dang ladybug ever, if I may say so...and we headed out.

We got to the first house. She wanted me to hold her hand as she walked up to the door. So I did. Then, she wanted me to ring the doorbell. So I did.

The neighbor came to the door...all smiles and coos about how cute Bellie is.

"Say 'trick or treat'," I whispered to her.

"No. You say it," she whispers back...not taking her eyes off the stranger at the door. Or more accurately, the bowl of candy.

So I said "Trick or Treat."

At each house the same conversation took place. But she got lots of candy. And eventually, she joined a group of older kids and was fine.

Near the end of our adventure, we were kind of part of a crowd of neighbors. People I don't really know because, well, I haven't taken the time to get to know them. Other than those right on my block.

But they were a curious lot. Asking the typical questions...how old is she?...are you new to the neighborhood?...that kind of thing.

Right then, Bellie came down from the door of the house, grinned really big at NH, walked right to the middle of the crowd and said (loudly) to NH:

"I want you to spend the night at our house tonight!!"

It was one of those situations where it's like the record skips. Complete silence...then some chuckles.

She's the best. NH and I just cracked up as we walked home with the little ladybug.

3rd day...

...not smoking...sucks rocks.

I know this because I'm doing it now and I knew it because I've done it before.

And I never want to do it again.

But me being me...let's see if we can't find some humor...as I pass through these cigarette obsessed thoughts into the next phase.

Would it be totally uncool if Bellie's Jack-o-lantern had a fake cigarette hanging out of his mouth?

If I continue to do push-ups every time I have a craving - I'm going to look like one of those ladies on the weightlifting shows. Except not as greasy.

Do you think I really wanted the peanut butter cookies I baked yesterday afternoon or do you suppose it was for oral gratification? (To clue you in - I haven't baked cookies in over a year...)

Today's the day my taste and smell senses are supposed to be close to normal. I've been making the coffee way too strong. And I could probably tone it down on the scented candle front.

In addition to saving money by not buying smokes...I get the added bonus of not needing to chew gum any time I think I might be breathing near another human.

Alright...that's all for now. This is making me want to smoke.

But I won't.

Random and Weird

Miss Melissa tagged me.

Fair enough. I've been terribly remiss in posting.

Rules of the game:

1. Link to your tagger and post rules.
2. Share 7 facts about yourself, some random and some weird.
3. Tag 7 people at the end of post and list their names.
4. Let them know they were tagged by a comment on their blog.

Let's play!

1. About a year ago, I got terribly drunk at a work function and asked...er....blabbered on about how much I needed another employee on my team. Finally, the senior manager to whom I was yammering wrote on the back of my name tag that I could have one. This was on 10/10/06. Of course, it didn't count. Anyway - I worked all year to prove I really needed this employee and finally got the official approval. On 10/10/07. Coincidence?

2. I sing really loud to the radio. In the car. Only when I'm alone.

3. I can't remember if The Idiot has a goatee or not. And I see him 8 times a month. Or rather, I guess, I don't see him.

4. I don't think I'll ever get married again but I think I do want another baby. Not now. But sometime.

5. My back is one giant erogenous zone. But never in the same spot twice in a row. Who knew?

6. I've only stolen one thing my whole life. A bottle of nail polish remover from a convenience store when I was in high school. (And I took it back.)

7. Someday, I want to own a Harley.

There. Seven random and maybe even weird facts about myself.

Now here's where I step away from the rules....I just can't make myself tag anyone. I've been too lame about posting.

But feel free to tag yourself. (Rolling eyes...does anybody do that?)

Is there steam coming out of my ears?

Scene: End of a day filled with fairly constant displays of ...ah...spectacular independence by Bellie. Bellie has a baby blanket tied around her neck. Toys are all over the living room.

Me: Bellie - pick up your toys.

Bellie: I'm not Bellie. I'm Super Hero!

Me: Alright. Super Hero pick up your toys.

Super Hero: They aren't my toys, they are Bellie's.

C'mon, time to talk...

....yep.

Last night, I was making pasta for dinner and when I finished stirring the sauce in, Bellie asked if she could lick the spoon.

Of course. I handed it to her.

Moments later, I realized I needed the spoon back so I reached behind me and asked her to hand it to me.

Which she did. And right as I began stirring the pasta again, she said this:

"I let Millie lick the spoon clean. She really liked that!"

Millie would be our poo-eating dog.

But that's not what you're here to read about. I know....I know.

So I don't really have a broken heart. It just took a little ding. Basically, what has happened over the past three years is that my mother (who lives with me) and I have fallen into our bad relationship habits.

It happened over time so I didn't really notice it.

The habits involve her feeling resentful because she's dependent on me and feels like she has no life of her own and me reacting to the passive-aggressive methods she uses to vent those feelings.

She'd probably tell a different story. But this is mine. And if I got into details, none of you would have time to read the post. Suffice it to say, I've been here before. And it doesn't really work very well.

What happened is that NH got really frustrated watching me behave as if I were a different person in my own home. He knew the person that's out in the world and couldn't really reconcile the two.

But rather than discuss those feelings as they were happening, he tried to be a 'bigger man' and get used to it. Which led me to believe he was.

Even though I know I'd never expect anyone to be OK with the situation. I'm not OK with it. I've basically been just existing in it for about the last year. Still calling it temporary - thus giving myself the allowance of waiting to do anything about it. All the while, knowing I'd have to at some point.

Anyway - he blew a gasket. Verbally.

And while I am not alright with his method, I heard the words. And the words were true.

We had a couple shaky days in there where he couldn't believe how he handled it and I wasn't sure about much.

I'm not making anything smaller or larger than it actually is...I've taken a good look at my situation. And some changes need to happen....a relationship realignment, if you will.

A few, if I'm honest. Mine with myself...mine with my mother...and then there's NH. So that's what I'm up to these days. NH and I have backed it up a little and as much as I hate the word...we're dating. Yeah...we were before too, but much of our time spent together was at my house.

It just seemed easier...with Bellie and all that. So we're dating outside my house. Which is what we meant to do before.

Oh...and it wasn't just the mom thing....he has some stuff he's working on personally as well. He didn't pile it all on my plate...he took his share.

So far, things feel good. With me, and with him. But, I suppose, most importantly with me. I'm getting my feet back under me as far as living my life instead of spending all my energy trying to accommodate my mother.

It always amazes me how much little changes I make in myself affect the world around me. Not the large world...but my smaller one.

Anyway - not too exciting...but there's the scoop.

I'm ok....

...still sorting. But feeling better.

I know....

I know....the suspense has been killing all of you.

Nothing happened. Well, nothing irregular. Ha. Pardon the pun, if you will.

I guess I didn't take too much.

Moving right along (ack...sorry...I promise no more puns...apparently, for a few brief moments, my sense of humor was that of a junior-high boy.)....

Here's my funny story for today...Bellie and I were in the kitchen doing something-or-other. I didn't notice but she went into my bedroom.

Where NH was evidently changing his clothes. Here's what I heard:

"Are those your panties?!"

"Um...no. I call them shorts."

I couldn't help it, I guffawed.

Poor NH. And his "panties".

NH at the park. I think the beer is a nice touch.

(Clearly, he doesn't wear panties.)

And isn't this the most fantastic sight ever?

(Someone has to teach her domesticity. And how about their matching droopy-butt jeans?)

Can you have...

....too much fiber in your diet?

I'm going to find out...probably tomorrow.

Here's the story....and stop reading if you don't like posts about bodily functions.

Lately, every thing I eat makes me feel bloaty. And no, I'm not preggers. I hate feeling bloaty. All seems to be functioning in the digestive track...if you get my meaning....but there's that pesky bloating.

Someone suggested I wasn't getting enough fiber in my diet. And since eating veggies and fruits is kind of an afterthought for me, it could be true. Obviously, the answer should be to eat a more balanced diet.

But no....I decided to try some Metamucil. Again, someone suggested this.

Now - it's important at this point of the story to note that I am one of those people who is too impatient to read all the instructions.

Ever.

Even when it involves a fiber supplement I've never used before. I read as far as the recommended serving. One teaspoon - heaping - in 8 ounces of liquid up to three times a day.

Yesterday, being the first day of this experiment, I thought I'd go light on it....just two servings. This morning, having no notable reaction, I decided to up the ante. And go with the 3 servings today.

As I was finishing off the last glass, and reading the Metamucil container at the same time, I saw these words:

"Generally produces effect in 12-72 hours."

Followed by these words:

"New Users: Start with 1 dose per day; gradually increase to 3 doses per day as necessary."

That's me....a new user. Something tells me tomorrow is going to be a long day at the office.

I have to go now...I'm going to eat a brick of cheese.