*Whew*

GAH. After another night of Greyson trying *desperately* to stay awake until the NEXT DAY (and nearly making it, I might add - if only he had held out for another 15 minutes!), he chose to start his day after less than 7 hours of sleep. Yes. He *is* 2, and this was his demand.

He barely ate anything for breakfast - even though he woke me by SHOUTING into my ear, "MOMMY! I'm HUNGRY! Get up NOW!!!!" Riiiiiight. Attack of the grape-sized gullet, once again, apparently.

He then spent the next 3 hours leaping from his bed to mine, over a 18" chasm, and rolling into a somersault, nearly falling off the edge of the bed, and sometimes, rolling right into the wall.

He was unfazed. He was WIRED.

After many attempts at getting him to eat, oh, ANYTHING... we broke down and went grocery shopping.

You would think that we had entered the world's largest All-You-Can-Eat buffet. (Well, I guess to him, it is.)

He INHALED a banana, a LARGE roll, a piece of string cheese, and half a bag of rice cakes. Oh. And drank half a bottle of water.

In about 90 minutes.

He *still* didn't fall asleep on the ride home.

In the midst of putting groceries away, I found him using a screwdriver (that he had moved a chair CLEAR across the room to get to) to take apart his LeapFrog Computer.

Obviously, I took it away... and then it all went spiraling downhill.

Around 6:30pm, he started screaming.  I mean, SCREAMING. 

Have you ever wondered what the approach of the Apocalypse sounds like?  My guess it that it's very similar to the sounds coming out of that 30-pound little boy.

It did not stop, not ONCE, until 7:45pm, when he passed out while SITTING UP.

I thought I could breathe then.  I was sorely mistaken...

He woke again at 8:15pm, with the words syllables being screeched out of the gaping maw that used to be his mouth being, "I WAAAANNT THE SCWEWWDRIVAHHHHH!!!!"

This was closely followed by similar demands for Propel, his Gia & Papa, a DVD, to sleep in MY bed, for me to sleep in HIS bed... you get the picture.  This phase went on for about an hour & a half, until I finally thought that the voices chanting "Run Away!" in my head were going to win. 

I took him to GRANDMA.  lol

Oh, SURE.  He was fine with her.  Because?  SHE ISN'T HIS EVIL MOMMY, apparently.  Thank goodness *Gia* spent time talking to him about how little sense it made for him to yell at his mommy for everything, when there was no connection WHAT SO EVER.

*sigh*

It's now midnight.  He's only been asleep for the night for... wait for it... 30 minutes.  That's right folks!  He was awake for *16 hours* with 30 minutes of a COMPLETELY fake nap.

I think we bought more alcohol at the store today.

Wait... I KNOW we bought more alcohol at the store today!

It won't be here very long... *bwahahahaha*

A Slight Twist...

Since Moo decided to post the "Girl Crush" post a bit ago, and rope me into doing one of my own... I thought, HEY!  Why not just share our *major* hunk-hottie obsessions as well???

No admission to same-gender beauty necessary!  =P

So, here we go...

Johnny Depp.  One word. YUM.  (I have also referred to him as "bang me like a screen door in a hurricane" hot in the past!)

Shia Lebeouf.  Damn his role in Transformers for turning this once-child-star into something worth a little drool.  I know, he's younger than me.  So what?  Wanna fight?

Christian Bale.  Yes, he *has* made the most recent Batman movies just *that* much more appealing to me.  Hell, I had the hots for him in American Psycho.

James Hetfield.  OMG.  I have wanted this man for the last 10+ years of my LIFE.  One of my favorite memories is STILL of being pressed against the stage at a Metallica concert and having him flick sweat onto me.  Gross, I know.  But GAWD.

Edward Norton.  Eek.  Seeing him in American History X just plain DID it for me.  End of story.

Tim Curry.  Okay, okay... not your "typical" hottie... but there was something about his role in Rocky Horror Picture Show that left me with a new opinion on men in lingerie... ROFL...  just more proof that I am, indeed, a sick twist.  AND!  I don't even mind that he played "IT."  (Can't sleep, clowns will eat me...)

Sean Connery.  This man is old enough to be my grandfather, and I'd STILL throw one at him.  hehe.

Adrian Paul.  My GOD, did he make Highlander just THAT MUCH MORE yummy?!?!

And now for a slight change of pace...  These are people that I HONEST-TO-GOD KNOW.  Yes, yes, I have drooled.  LOL

"Scrap Iron" Adam Pearce.  I have known this man since my freshman year of high school.  He was yummy then, and he's yummy now.  LOL

CM Punk... AKA Phil.  Met him numerous times, hell - had the opportunity to DATE him.  Shame on me.

Colt Cabana... AKA Scott.  Had the chance to date him, too.  I mean, REALLY now.  What was I THINKING?!?!

So, now... who are *your* celebrity hotties?!?

The $9.00 Martini. Or, I Got to Hear Some Great Music!

So, I managed to make the trip out to Mt. Prospect to see Taggart. And it was definitely time well spent. He's just so much fun to be around, and his stage presence is infecting with as much fun as he *obviously* has while playing that guitar and singing his bluesy heart out.

But, really people? A $9.00 martini? Eek. And that was the cheapest one on the list. Of course, I HAD to try one. And while I'd definitely partake of one again - I would *not* spend a whopping $9.00. Uh uh. Nope. C'mon, the only alcohol in it was some sort of citrus stuff and Midori. The rest? Pineapple juice & OJ.

Maybe it was the fact that they had the actual cop car from The Blues Brothers somehow precariously suspended high above us that made the drink so expensive? Or the endless supply of other movie paraphenalia? Hmm.

Anyhow, it was a good time. He still, amazingly, looks the same (minus the tangle of curls down his back) - which, with the haircut? Makes him look like Vincent D'Onofrio. Honestly.

Am I the only one who SEES this resemblance?!? Hehe.

Memories and reminiscing...

I'm going to see my former choir director from my freshman year of high school play in Mount Prospect tonight with his blues band.

It was *supposed* to be NEXT Wednesday, but somehow... either I just had a major brain fart, or I missed the "memo."  No biggie.

The REAL biggie is that he lives in Richmond, VA.  So the fact that he's going to be a short car trip away?  FANTASTIC.

You see, Taggart (okay, so we were SUPPOSED to call him Mr. Taggart, but, well... you'll understand the lack of applied conformity here soon.) wasn't what you'd call 'conventional.'  He wore a tie-dyed t-shirt and jeans to work almost every day.  You'd find him in the hallways during passing period and times when he didn't have a class, sitting in the middle of the hallway, strumming away on his acoustic.  He had long, unkempt, CURLY dark hair, and you could spot his "Five O'Clock Shadow" from half a mile away.

He was our "rocker."  He was an idol.  He was just plain FUN.

It really was Taggart's drive for music that got me so completely into it, myself.  While I learned over the years following his leave (I only had him for my freshman year before he quit and moved) that, okay, maybe he wasn't the greatest CHOIR director when it came to teaching styles... he definitely still makes my top 5 best teachers list.  He was fun, freespirited, and most of all, compassionate and caring.

Never have I known another "non-special education" teacher that really, truly adored and made so much effort to work with some of the most difficult students to teach.  It was amazing.

You see, at the time I started high school, my Mom *taught* in the same building.  But she taught special education.  Some of them with pretty obvious and tangible needs.  But when they walked through the door to his classroom, all bets were off.  He'd have them singing, clapping, and laughing right along with him as he gave them a break from struggling with school to just plain enjoying themsleves and having a great time.

The funny thing is, that when I was in 7th or 8th grade, I was in a summer band camp.  (One time, at band camp... ROFL)  Yes, I know - it just SCREAMS geek, doesn't it?  But really, our shit ROCKED.  C'mon - we learned a huge Looney Tunes medley!  hehe  Anyways, I remember showing up a little early one day to find this hippie-looking, scruffy guy trying to tell a bandmate of mine a way to get better sound from her trumpet.  And it WASN'T our band director.  I could tell by the look on HER face that she didn't know who the hell he was, either - but here he was, all up on her instrument... and making us all wonder who let the homeless guy in off the street.

The school year started, I walked into my freshman Choir class... and lo and behold... there was our "bum."  =P

The next year forged a deep, intimate love of music in me that had only been a few smoldering embers here and there before.  Sure!  I played piano, clarinet... but this?  This was DEEP love for the music that was coming from within me, using no instrument other than my breath and my own voice.  I was addicted.

I haven't seen Taggart since 1996.  I just recently started talking to him again, after having lost touch when they changed locations within Virginia - but actually used to email and call back and forth every so often until that point.  He's just someone that I kinda bonded with, on more than a "teacher-student" level. 

Here's to great memories, and rekindling a friendship that maybe only music could find...  even though he's old enough to be my dad, I'm so proud of the fact that he is making a living by doing nothing but PERFORMING.  He has always been a great musician, and now I get to dedicate some of my time doing nothing but supporting that fact.

If you have the chance - check out his website: Chicago Cy

Here's to what should be a great night!  (And a break from what has been my HELL the last 2 days!)

Cheers!!!

I'm so excited, I just can't stand it!  He

But WHY, Mommy?!?

Argh.  I was just sitting here thinking about the probable number of times that the Munchkin has asked me "why" just in this past week alone.

I think I'm safe at rounding it out to, oh, 19,476 times.

And you think I'm exaggerating.  (Okay, maybe *just* a little.)

In all my years of teaching preschool, preceeded by volunteer work (and actual PAID work!) in Special Education for the local public school district... NEVER have I encountered a child that is so fascinated by language, especially at this young an age.

He's only 2 1/2 (okay... a LITTLE more than that - he'll be 3 at the end of November), for pete's sake!

I honestly cannot think of a single word that he connot pronounce correctly.  Of course, he still has *his* names for certain things... like Pop-Tarts.  Oh NO, they are NOT Pop-Tarts, Mom.  They are "toasty pops."  Silly boy.  I guess it makes sense when you think about it... they go in the toaster, and then 'pop' out.  I get it.  It's just cute.

But the most maddening thing by far?  This WHY tirade!  I have never been bombarded by a slew if 47 "Why"s in one sitting from a 2 year old before this child entered my life.  And the greatest part is?  HE. KNOWS. IT. ANNOYS. ME.  He'll start supressing a giggle about 5 or 6 "why"s into the conversation.  But does it stop?  NEVER!!!

For instance, one day I made a comment about a photo being taken "before you were born."  The response?  "Yes, I *was* born."

Well, yeah... that's why you're here.  But, ohhh no... it didn't end there.

"WHY was I born?"   Ummm... LOL

"Because Mommy & Daddy decided that they wanted a special little boy, just like you, to love and take care of."  Nice save there, huh?  Not nice enough for him.

"But WHY?"  Eek.

"Because we loved each other SO much, that we wanted to share that love with you, too."

A pause, as he contemplated this fact.

"You love Gia.  Gia was here before I was born."

*smacks forehead*

You see, Greyson has a *total* understanding of the fact that MY mom = HIS Gia (grandma).  It doesn't phase him one itsy, tiny bit knowing that I was once a baby, and that Gia shares 2 roles.  I will make a comment to DH about "Mom," and Greyson immediately chimes in with, "Gia?"

He *is* having a slight bit of difficulty when it comes to the concept that Gia was once a baby, too... even though he knows that Gia's mommy was *my* grandma.  Eh.  He's only 2.

The other night, we were looking through a box of photos that my grandma had, that I have now kinda inherited, since she passed away in October 2004.  There were, of course, plenty of photos of me, taken anywhere from infancy through high school.

After flipping through and minutely studying each and every one, he spoke up:

"You know what, Mommy?  I LIKE you as a baby."

"Gee thanks, kiddo.  What about liking me as your Mommy?"

"You got big."

LOVE the logic on THAT one, there, little one.  And I love you even more for having the un-jaded ability to speak so freely.  =)

The Dark Side of Diabetes

Apparently, last night's tirade was completely unbeknownst to MetalliDad.

This isn't the first time that's happened... where later, upon being confronted by things he has said or done... ALWAYS mean, hateful things... he has given me this *look*, and been totally clueless at to what happened, what was said, and especially WHY.

I've had it.  While part of me says, "Hey, at least it wasn't a CONCIOUS attempt to be the biggest asshole on the planet!" - another part thinks it's even scarier.  And a little worse, maybe.

So, a little history here.  Shortly after I was in the hospital in July 2007, I wound up taking MetalliDad into the ER because of *nasty* sores on his feet that, with me having worked in surgery at a podiatrist's office... had me almost gagging.  There was an obvious infection going, and it had started making his right leg swell.

He was diagnosed with diabetes... and his blood sugar was a whopping 380mg/l.  Whereas the diagnosis wasn't really a surprise to me (both his parents were diabetic), how he wasn't in a coma from the sugar levels being so high, I STILL don't understand.  He felt *fine* other than the foot pain.  Eek.

Anyhow... this past May was the first time that he had been made aware of MANY just plain *ugly* things he had said or done.  And he had no idea.  Pending the insurance fiasco getting itself worked out... he agreed (and actually suggested *himself*) that he would look into if a doctor felt he needed medication for this apparent "mood disorder."  Especially since, according to him, his father became extremely mean for the last few years before he died.

June, he woke up, and essentially laid into me without provokation.  It was UGLY, and I felt like I had been slapped by every word that had come out of his mouth.

Last night, it was the same... except that this time, it had a shadow of violence beyond just the words he used.  He wound up yanking my arm in an attempt to snatch the tv remote from my hand, and then proceeded to fastball it at me as I tried to leave the room.  I'm amazed that it is still in one piece after the impact it made with the dresser as it whizzed past my side.

This morning when he got up for work, everything was normal.  He leaned over to give me a kiss goodbye, asked if we were still planning on going to the optometrist after he got home, and went on his merry way.  He called on his way home from work, and was pleasant, had no problem with the fact that I honestly was in a bit too much pain to feel like dealing with the eye doctor, and ended the call with an "I love you."

So, after dinner, when the subject hadn't yet been breached (and I was doubly depressed from what *should* have been a fantastic dinner gone-wrong), I brought up the fact that, after last night, I was done.  He needed to make an appointment with his doctor for the sole purpose of figuring out WHAT THE HELL HIS PROBLEM WAS.

His response?  "Why?  Last night again??"

I was... dumbfounded.  How could this man become Mr. Hyde without his being aware of the fact?  What the hell was wrong?  Could it even be fixed?  SHIT.

So, off I went to the internet before soaking all my pains away in a hot bath (or at least trying to).  And, lo and behold, I find this:

Apparently, there is strong research that shows that blood sugars of 70mg/l and lower can result in anger, violence, etc... and a high probability if being unaware of the behavior.

Nice.

Now, we may be on to something.  But what to DO about it?  Do I make sure he eats a little something before going to bed, in order to elevate his sugars throughout the night?  Do we suggest to the doctor that his evening dose of medications be lowered in order to correct this problem?  Do we *still* bring up and advocate for a mood stabilizer?!

While I am slightly relieved at this information, I am also just as frustrated.  It's great if I can pinpoint what is causing the problem... but in the end, it still doesn't take away the fact that I have been driven into the ground by his words while he spit insults and attacks on my grave.  *sigh*

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
To top it all off, Greyson had another night from HELL.  And this time, it was worse than last night.

While trying to get him to even *lay down* - he told me to "leave him the fuck alone."

Obviously, he was well aware of what was being screamed at me the previous night and chose to use this phrase to punctuate his OWN speech.  Fabulous.

He got his very first - and hopefully, his very last - pop on the cheek.  I know.  I feel horrible about it... but ya know, when you have your *2 year old* flinging such a horrible statement at you... Well, hell.  I regret that it happened, but it could have been worse.  I don't think I have been angrier at him than at that point in time.

He didn't fall asleep until almost 1am.  I'm exhausted... from every possible angle, and in every definition of the term.  I feel like I've been torn from the line, and left lying in the mud.  Something *has* to change... and I don't know where to start.

Well, I know where, but even from that point... I have the feeling I am on a long, winding road.

I love my husband.  I have forgiven a BIG mistake, and am not about to throw away the second chance that I have given him without benefit of the doubt - and intervention.

I adore my son.  But honestly?  He has just had too much fun pushing every. last. button. the last few days.

I have already been diagnosed with depression, panic disorder, and anxiety disorder.  I have chronic pain.  My migraines are returning from the vacation they took back when I was pregnant (which, while I admit was a NICE long trip, I was really hoping that they would *love* it so much, they wouldn't come back!).

How much more can I take?  I haven't been feeling like I have any support (besides from some of you LOVELY ladies that read and post comments here!  THANK YOU - more than you will ever know!), and my well is running dry.

It seems that with every up, I am shoved down further than before.  I am *really* trying to look for that silver lining, but lately... it's been a pretty torrential storm.

Rainbows *are* real, right?  Anyone care to send a little sunshine my way?

What to do...

I have had one of the *worst* days in a LONG time. 

I woke up this morning with my back simply screaming at me, and I wasn't able to turn my head to the left AT ALL or shrug my left shoulder...

Greyson woke complaining of a headache, and barely touched his breakfast OR lunch... he didn't want to do much other than lie in bed and watch cartoons...

We got in a decent nap, but he was just kinda "off" all evening - still not too hungry, clingy, and a tad on the whiny side.  Which isn't normal "him" stuff... plus, he felt a little warm - so I chose the safe route and gave him some Tylenol.

Now, for when things get *really* ugly.

Bedtime rolls around, the hubby's already hanging out in bed watching WWE when Grey & I come downstairs.  No biggie.  Greyson starts up his usual "nightowl craziness" (so at least SOMETHING helped him feel a LITTLE better - LOL).  But then Ralph started to fall asleep, so I got Greyson into his bed, etc etc.

He was *squirrel central*.  The child would NOT lie still, would NOT stop talking, just plain was antsy and goofy.  So finally?  I told him I was going to lie down, because honestly, it was bringing me almost to tears sitting there with him because of the pain all day.

And he SWORE at me, under his breath.  This has been going on for the last week or so, where he'll mutter "Damnit" in response to something that just apparently PISSES. HIM. OFF.

And I had had it.  I told him that the next time I heard that come out of his mouth, that there was going to be some soap in there to replace it.  End of story.  You may NOT say words like that.

Then, in an expansion of my frustration... I changed the channel.  GOD FORBID.

Cue the MAN:  What are you doing?!
Me:  I didn't feel like staring at wrestling while you slept.
Him:  I wasn't sleeping.  How the hell can I sleep when you're YELLING AT GREYSON EVERY TWO SECONDS?!

Umm... yeah.  Okay.  At this point, he had been asleep, off and on, for about 30 minutes.  But denied it.  Like usual.  No surprise there.

However, he then proceeded to GRAB the remote out of my LEFT hand (yes, the one connected to the f'ed up shoulder) and grabbed my hand with it.  OUCH.

More words flew, and it ended in him THROWING THE REMOTE *AT* ME and demanding that I "go the fuck upstairs *before* I pissed him off."  Ummm... does anyone see a problem with this statement?

Yes, I admit - that came after I called him an asshole.  But?  I call it like I see it.  There have been a lot of shithole situations in the recent past, and one BIG thing that's standing out in my head (especially now) is that HE made a promise that HE has yet to fulfill... and there is no longer anything preventing him from doing so.  And honestly?  It pisses me off... but more so, IT HURTS.

I feel downright UGLY right now.  I just came back up from getting Greyson to sleep... because when I went back down to check on him... ONE was snoring, and the other?  Well, let's just say he was hanging out watching Adult Swim.  At 11 pm.  Nice.

So, I was told to GET OUT, but then also apparently the responsibility of getting the little man to sleep?  STILL MY JOB.  FROM UPSTAIRS?  Hmm.  I don't get it.

It took me 45 minutes of finding new batteries for his "moon light," getting him some milk, curling up with him IN THE TODDLER BED, and back rubbing before he finally decided to call it a night.

Now, here I am.  Angry, saddened, depressed, confused, in physical, mental, and emotional pain... wondering where the HELL it all came from.  Well, knowing where it came from... but what started it.

It's one of those times where if Grey weren't around... I think I'd run away.  Really.  He keeps me here a LOT...  and I've expressed that before.  I just don't know if it's really sunk in.

Here's to wishing me SOME sleep... though right now, I don't know if I can handle climbing into my own bed.  *sigh*  I might be looking at a 4am bedtime after DH leaves for work... ugh.

Greyson does NOT like rhinos...

As he *bluntly* announced today at the zoo.

Everything else, though! Eee! What fun. LOL

I am completely bummed because Brookfield Zoo had to go and take out the friggin' FROG statue before you get to the North gate... and so, um, we *totally* did NOT meet up with the people we were supposed to meet up with. Because seriously, NO FROG.

Oh. And the fact that we were running a bit late and I couldn't find where the hell I wrote down their cell numbers. *smack*

But! We had a great time with Greyson's friend Hunter, and his mom & grandma (who was visiting from NY). I think I got more sun today than I have almost all summer... and I LOVED every minute of it.

Boo hissssss at the STILL long lines at the Stingray Bay... I didn't get to touch the little bastards AGAIN this year, because, well... 45 minutes to wait in line? Umm, I don't think so. Not with a 2-year-old.

I thoroughly scared my husband by informing him that the Wolf Spider that they had displayed in the Swamp exhibit... yeah. They live in our yard, too. He has now proclaimed that he is NOT mowing the lawn ANYMORE. Big baby.

Anyways, a great time was had by all (well, except for the spider reveal, oh! And the fact that we also have stick bugs... ROFL!), and this year, Greyson didn't scream when the waves came crashing down in The Living Coast! Hooray! We was SO enamored with every single underwater creature... he is going to have a BLAST when we take him to Shedd next month (September 15th? Anybody? It's a FREE day!)...

What did YOU do today? Anything fun?!?

It's All Moo's Fault...

That now I have to do an entry on girl crushes.

*sigh*

So, here goes my top 5 (in no particular order!):

Amy Dumas

Megan Fox

Alicia Keys

Gillian Anderson

Nikki Cox

Hmm.  I *could* go on.  REALLY.  But these will have to do.

Thanks a LOT, Moo!  =P

We interrupt this regularly scheduled blog...

To briefly announce that, DAMN, I'm a good cook!

Apparently, my Stuffed Chicken Marsala is *better* than the one they serve at Olive Garden.  Woo yeah!

Not to mention last week's homemade Portabello Fettuccini Alfredo.  Mmm.

Now I have to expand...  Ya see, when it was just the three of us in our apartment, cooking large, hours-consuming meals just *wasn't worth it* since I just don't DO well with leftovers for days... and hello?!  I'm LATVIAN.  I can NOT cook for a small family.  It's been taken out of my DNA.  Those of us with roots along the Baltic Sea feel that we must feed the entire neighborhood... or at least prepare enough in case, oh, I don't know, a wandering troop of SOLDIERS appears on our doorstep - starving from days without food.  Seriously.  I will have to find a photo of the *typical* spread at a family party.  YIKES.

Anyways... now that there are more mouths to feed (and more bodies to add poundage to), I'm getting into some pretty downright GOURMET cuisine.  Even when we slack on dinner around here, it usually consists of grilled steak and baked potatoes.  LOL

Does anyone have any REALLY good recipes they'd like to share?  Or else, I'll be kneeling on the kitchen floor, waist-deep in the pantry, cooking up combinations in my head until DAWN.  =P

Eating on the Run...

This is Greyson's favorite method of consumption. Apparently, it is WAY too much to ask that his jaws work without his little legs simultaneously running around the room.

And once he sits down again? Yep, he stares at the food, only to cave and take another bite... and those legs start twitching again until he slips out of his chair before we can tell him to stop.

I'm thinking there might be some wiring loose somewhere... ya know, like there's a short making him have to be physically MOVING in order to get the food going.

But then. that doesn't explain why he eats an approximate 3.5847395734 times more food WHILE AT THE GROCERY STORE than he *ever* eats at home. Literally, he will REFUSE breakfast if he knows that we are headed out shopping afterwards. We have resorted to *spelling* a LOT of things around here... and even then? He usually knows what we're talking about. Damn you, Super Why!!

Does anyone else have a child that has an INSTANT metabolism - to the point where the second the food hits their tongue, it's converted into MAD energy? *sigh* Because I do. Ugh.

I think it's time to indulge a little...

And yes, I *do* mean in ALL variations.

Ya see, yesterday, the hubby made a random statement about how, considering now that insurance is settled... that the next kid could be, *whenever*.

Yeah.

Not that I DON'T want another one. But really? It's kinda come up a lot faster than I expected!

So now... I think it's time for a drink. Or a round.

Better make it a round.

What is it about twisted men...

In movies that gets me a little "warm?"

We saw The Dark Knight last night at the Drive-In, and it was GREAT.  Of course, about half-way through the movie, I turned to Ralph and asked:

"Is it wrong for me to think that this version of the Joker is kinda hot?"

And I've determined this:

I have a thing for slightly demented and relatively *off-balance* men - at least in movies.

Christian Bale in American Psycho?  Yum.
Johnny Depp in Sweeney Todd?  C'mere.
Edward Norton in American History X?  Oooh, yeah.
Brad Pitt in Twelve Monkeys?  Is it getting hot in here?
Matthew McConaughy in Frailty?  I need a cold shower.

Can you *see* where I'm going with this?  What does this SAY about me??

Oh.  And the fact that Hayden Christen is hot.  But only after he goes all *dark side* and shit.  Yeah.  Maybe it's the red and yellow eyes?  Damnit.

So... I'm thinking I need some kind of an intervention.  Like, SERIOUS movie suggestions where, um, maybe there's *no* chance of me getting a little steamy while watching someone exert their mental instability?  Anyone?

I think I need a stiff drink now. ;)

Do NOT join my family...

If you DON'T want to have a child in November (or early December!) in the next few years!!

Apparently, there is something about being a part of my husband's side of the family that occurs, OH, around late February, early March...

I will have a new (great) niece or nephew around November 18th!!!

So, here's how it goes:
December 5th, 2004 - Carter is born (my SIL's nephew)
November 21st, 2005 - Greyson is born (MINE - duh!)
November 7th, 2006 - Nicholas is born (my great-nephew)
And now a DIFFERENT nephew's wife is due.  In November.  In our family.  Can you see a pattern here???

Everyone thinks (or hopes, is more like it!) that she is having a GIRL... but, I'm gonna lay odds on a boy.  Because?  Well, being at a family party for his side is TESTORONE CENTRAL if you look at ages 12 and younger.  HOLY MOLY.  There are *no* girls.  Period.  The youngest girl is almost 20.  ROFL  And she's the ONLY ONE.

Then you get to us *old folk*.  LOL

Can I just say that it is DAMN funny that all but *2* of my NIECES AND NEPHEWS are OLDER than me?  Yeah.  And my SIL is older than my mom.  Fun stuff, fun stuff! 

Anyhow, we went to my SIL's 50th birthday / their 25th anniversary party down in Oak Lawn today... and I brought home an exhausted, soaking-wet child from the ordeal.  Because he wanted to play on the slip-n-slide... but wouldn't take off more than his shoes and socks.  ROFL  Ah well, at least he enjoyed himself!!

So!  Happy Birthday, Barb - Happy Anniversary to you and Dom - and CONGRATS to my nephew (ROFL - he'll be *30* this year!) Allen and his wife, Brandi!  We''re all waiting for little Briana or Landon to arrive in November!!! =)

Dear Parents at the Park,

I understand that apparently, for many of you, once your child reaches the age of, oh *6* years old, you find it unnecessary to monitor them while on the playground - instead leaving them to their own devices while you "do your own thing."

I'd like to inform you that no matter how much trust you have in your child... they STILL need supervision... and just because I am there with *my* child, does not mean that I will be a stand-in for YOU with *yours*.



This evening, Grey and I took a walk to the park closest to our house (which still took us a good 15 minutes to walk to with those 2 year old feet!). There were SO many kids there... and also so few adults actually IN the enclosed playground area. Sad.

About 20 minutes after we got there... I got to witness 3 boys around the ages of 6 - 8, all PEE through the chain-link fence onto the surrounding grass. Nice.

By the way, there is a restroom about 25 feet away from where they were standing. A full-fledged BATHROOM - not even just a measly port-a-potty.

C'mon people! Where in the world are some parents getting off?!? And I will *not* fully blame the children for their behavior, simply because children learn what they live. If you can't man up enough to teach your children right from wrong, and intervene when they start to go astray... Well, you *really* don't want me to know who you are.

Because next time? I *will* open my mouth. And you will NOT like what comes out - I PROMISE you.

Things like this used to irritate me to no end even BEFORE I became a parent. But now? Now I have a little boy who has *these* children as his older peers, his possible role models... and I absolutely REFUSE to have him grow into one of the disrespectful, crude little snots that I see all too frequently while we are out and about.

Is it too much to ask that you teach your child SOME manners? Greyson? He says please, thank you, excuse me... and more. UNPROMPTED. Why? Because I have made it an integral part of his daily life from VERY early on.

While other parents apparently find no problem in letting their children urinate in public while surrounded by 20+ other children. Nice.

I think that I have determined that there are far too few people who actually PARENT instead of just PROCREATE.

Yeah, that's it.

Happy Flu!

Doing the Happy Dance!

We got our insurance card today!!  Yippee!!!

I just went and picked up a month's worth of my primary medication for $3.00... as opposed to the $5.00 a PILL I was paying just last week... my GOD, did that feel good!  And apparently any generic prescriptions are FREE.

I am in medical HEAVEN here, people...

Now tomorrow I have the job of finding and scheduling an OBGYN visit, as well as a G.P. visit for my back... and to find a new Ped. for Grey!

A lot of work, but I DON'T CARE!  Because it's FREE!  Yahoooooooo!!!

(Think I'm just a *little* happy about all this?!?)

Who Ya Gonna Call?!?

Well, maybe ME, soon.

As some of you know, I have had a lifelong interest in the "paranormal," as well as many direct experiences with such.  I joined a forum based on hauntings, etc. in IL, just to have people to talk about this kind of stuff with, without having to worry about being judged or ridiculed for my beliefs.

I have now decided that I may start working for a Paranormal Society out of northern IL.

So, instead of running the risk of having Bill Murray with a REALLY bad haircut show up on your doorstep if you ever have a paranormal problem... I might just be the one that can lend a helping hand.  LOL

If These Walls Could Talk...

They would apparently say some pretty creepy things.  Well, at least according to Greyson.

Tonight I *finally* got a real answer out of him as to why he doesn't want to sleep in his own bed, and why it's like torture trying to make him do it.

The walls by his bed are scary... oh, and his pillow gets too cold.  ROFL

Now, let me explain.  The walls in the basement pseudo-apartment where we live are  about 2/3 wood paneling on 2 walls, and 100% paneling on the other 2, in each room.  Not the cheap stuff - like dark stained cedar or something.  That has random "knots" in the wood all over the place, that the depth of the stain has turned black.

Apparently, Greyson is seeing faces in the patterning on the wood.  He had already pointed out to me that there is a "little boy" in the markings left from stripping the old wallpaper down (Which of course, I *still* haven't primed over to paint)... and now the "wall by his big-boy bed is scary.  It looks at him."  Sheesh.

So, I made a compromise.  I told him that we could go to the store, and he could pick out some fabric that I would drape on that wall so he couldn't see anything scary anymore, and that nothing would be able to "look at him" lying in his bed.  I also offered up to make a snuggly pillow/pillowcase from the same fabric since he said his pillow gets too cold (it's a cotton cover, and it *does* stay pretty chilly... I'd LIKE it.  Hmm.)

And that was that.  He fully agreed that if he couldn't see the wall, then it couldn't *see* him... and then he would try the "big-boy bed" again.

Now just to make sure that an entire wall of the bedroom isn't covered in Incredible Hulk fabric or something... ugh.

My Forever Baby

After coming home from the Wake, MetalliDad had fallen asleep, while my little monkey was, of course, still awake... standing on a pile of pillows looking at me over the baby gate and through the curtains that make up our "bedroom door."

After changing out of my "pretty clothes" and into something a *bit* more suitable for sleep (HA!), I climbed into bed and invited Grey for a snuggle while trying to wind him down a bit before sleep.

"C'mere, big boy."

"I am NOT a big boy.  I am a BABY."  His definitive tone on this subject has simply become stronger and stronger, and it, of course, has left me simply finding ways to stress to him how proud I am of him and all he can do... and why that means he isn't a baby anymore.  Logical, right?

"But honey, babies can't drink from cups like Mommy & Daddy do, or eat pizza, or ride bikes, or jump, or anything fun like that!  You are *such* a big boy."

"But I *want* to be a baby, Mommy.  I don't want to be a big boy."  The light simply faded from his normally radiant brown eyes.  What had made my child so utterly saddened by the prospect of growing up?

"Greyson, does it make you sad to not be a baby?"  A little nod, then a return of his head to my chest.  "Why?  Why do you wish you were a baby?"

And in the tiniest of voices, "Babies are better."

And as I swept him into my arms, I could not help but wonder just what it was that had told him that nonsense.  Of course, the joy of a new baby brings untold and unexplainable wonder to life... but watching that child grow along their own glorious, independent, awe-inspiring paths is a music unsung.  My son is my GIFT.

I began to tell him that no matter how big he gets, or what he can do, he will always be *my* baby.  That nothing could ever replace him and make him any less special than he always has been.  That I was *proud* of him for being the best big boy EVER. 

And he wrapped his little arms around my neck, and squeezed tight... whispering right into my ear, "I love you, too, Mommy.  You will always be my Mommy."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After he fell asleep, I decided that, for him to read someday, I would (try to) put down in words what exactly he means to me.

I leave you with what came pouring out:

Oh, my sweet boy~

If you only knew how carefully I hug you for fear that I might accidentally crush you into a fine, fine dust from the strength of my love alone!  How could I ever make you understand?  I would join forces with the moon and overthrow the sun for you.  I would carry a big rock on my back across the widest desert for you.  I would tame the biggest dinosaur if only for you to study it's skin.  I would brave the roughest seas to find a calm shore for you to swim.  I would learn how to harnessstorm clouds for you, so you'd never miss another sunny day.  I would wrestle crocodiles with the big, big teeth.  Then I’d do a funny dance - if it would make you smile.  I would hire an airplane to write in big white smoke letters across the blue blue sky: “Mommy loves you, Munchkin.”  

I would build you your very own playground out of moon rocks and music notes.  It would be on a big green hill in a land from somewhere, anywhere in your mind, where there were no such things as sickness, pain or old age.  There would be parades around it every single day with fireworks and ice cream trucks, and the tallest slides you could ever come flying down with your hair all excited around your smiling face.  Greyson, I will hold your hand through the world’s biggest parking lots and across the widest of streets.  I would leap in front of cars for you.  I would brave the meanest pirate ships for you.  I would stay up all night and count the sky’s stars for you - and give you the brightest one.
But this above all.

I will be your personal pioneer and go out ahead to conquer Death for you - if only to explore, uncover, and investigate everything to make sure it’s cool - but don’t worry.  I will come rushing back to life in your heart and mind, and whisper all of Death’s secrets in your trembling ear. Just use your soul, because that’s where your Mommy will ALWAYS live.  Remember to be still and listen with your whole self.  Even when you are a very old man and you are in your very last bed, you won’t need to be afraid.  Just close your eyes.  I will be there.  I promise.  I’ll open my arms so wide.  Just listen very closely with everything you can muster and you’ll be able to hear me say through those veils of misty silver…
 
You are *still* my forever baby... and I love you.