There’s construction going on off of the exit ramp I take on my way to work. They’ve dug a giant retention pond almost straight down off of the road and there is no guard rail there. Every. Fucking. Morning. On my way to work, I fight the urge to twitch my wheel to the right and crash into it. Part of me really hates working but part of me really likes the things that working affords. Later this year, we may be in a position where I could stay home but…I confessed to Sweety, and I know this sounds selfish but I like not worrying all of the damn time about money. I grew up poor as hell and I really like being able to go out and do things and buy groceries without thinking too hard about it. If Bean wasn’t going next door and being so loved and well taken care of there, then I would be more inclined to want to stay home with her all of the time. I dunno. We’ll burn this bridge later.

Bean had her first park trip last Saturday. To put it mildly, she loved it.

We just stayed a few minutes that trip and went back this weekend better prepared with a sun hat and we went later in the day so it wasn’t as hot. A good time was had by all. The park has a little skate park attached to it and during today’s visit, I filled out the paperwork needed to allow Sylvie to ride her skateboard the next time we go.

This? I love this.

Notice those toes? She twiddles them like fingers. I guess she’ll be able to clean her bedroom floor when she grows up without bending over.

People, my niece has discovered Vanilla Ice’s “Ice Ice Baby” and has played it eleventy billion times. She looks and acts so much like my sister did as a kid…sometimes I feel like I’m caught in a time warp and reliving the early 90s. It can feel rather unsettling.

From a sleeping Sweety: “I wish I had a giant bear claw. I’d use it to scratch my back.” and “Have you ever seen a gingerbread man smile? Gingerbread don’t really smile. How do they carry money? They don’t even have pockets. I wonder what they keep at the end of their rainbow.” I’m pretty sure that if I cracked Sweety’s head open that I’d find a tiny, decomposing unicorn in there. Because whatever goes on in there is delightfully scary.

Speaking of brains – it seems that the Bean has developed a taste for them.

Here she is working on her mad sitting skills.

And now she is just holding her disgust in at being acessorized.

I seriously do not flip her finger out. I’m actually going to make an effort to make sure she isn’t flying the bird in future photos. That shit just isn’t ladylike.

Why in the hell didn’t anyone warn me about this horrible fucking sadness that can happen when you breastfeed? Dysphoric Milk Ejection Reflex. D-MER I finally figured out just last week that this was the reason that I literally wanted to kill myself for a few minutes every day. It had gotten to the point where I dreaded pumping milk (for some reason the black mood is worse for me when pumping than when I’m feeding the baby myself) because I knew this awful feeling was going to flood me and I didn’t know why. When I spent a few minutes the other day planning on how I could stab myself to death the next time I had to pump milk because my mood felt so awful, I decided to hit up Dr. Google to try and figure out what the hell was going on.

I have never had the kind of mood swing that this delivers. Basically, it’s the polar opposite of euphoria. It’s like I’m awash in grief for a few minutes. A few weeks ago, I told Sweety that I didn’t know what was wrong with me when I pumped but if I had a gun that I’d shoot myself. That is how off I feel when it’s happening. It makes me want to hurt myself. Luckily, I never have anything any more deadly than my fingers around when this happens.

When I’m feeding Bean at home it’s a different sort of mood swing – I feel worthless, like I’m going to ruin her trying to raise her and if I happen to be pumping milk at home and Sweety is in my space? I want to kill him. I pump milk in the morning before going to work and I’d been spending the last couple of months hating his guts while he sat on the toilet and played his stupid video game while I pumped. For a few short minutes each morning, I would imagine whapping him upside the head with the bathroom scale and when the feeling would go away I’d wonder to myself where in the hell were those thoughts coming from.

I thought that maybe since I knew why I was feeling this way that I could willpower it away but that hasn’t worked. I can deal with it. I’d started worrying that the mood was going to start hitting me all the time and I didn’t know how I could handle that so I’m glad to know what’s going on. A friend described it at “shaking hands with mental illness” and I’d agree with that.

Oh, sir…You are a giant motherfucking douchebag. A douchebag that is full of pus-filled water that’s been sitting in the sun for a week that a dog has peed on. I don’t know what in the hell BB or Sweety did to piss your bleeding asshole self off but I do apologize for it.

Maybe it was that Sweety was always at the baseball field when you asked for volunteers to work on the weekend under the damned Florida sun to make the place look nice? Perhaps when he took his own vehicle 45 minutes away to get supplies to sod the field he wasn’t quick enough for you? Maybe you really DIDN’T want participants to come across with donations or time so quickly? Next year we will just be lazy fuckers.

And BB? Has worked his ass off as far as the baseball season has been concerned. I will be the first to say if he’s being a slacker and he certainly HAS NOT slacked in the sports participation area. At all the practices. At all the games. Will stay late to help clean shit up.

You were so kind as to tell him before tonight’s game that you’d need his suit back for the playoffs because he wouldn’t be playing because you are bringing up younger players but don’t have enough suits to go around. Some younger players who aren’t even going to be on the team or at this school next year. When BB got in trouble AT HOME earlier this year and Sweety was going to have him quit the baseball team as punishment – you sent Sweety a long-winded email talking about how the team depended on BB and to let him play. What was the mother fucking point of that when you’ve basically insulted him all season long? I don’t expect him to play all the time every damned game but IF you make it a point to tell BB or to tell LB to tell BB that he’s going to play in a game (yes, you read that right. Coach AssyAsshole would tell LB to TEXT BB to let him know that he was going to play in that night’s game) but then he never gets off of the bench? Why in the fuck did you insist that he stay on the team? Did you just want someone to boss around?

This is my opinion and I know opinions are like assholes but I bet mine has been washed more recently than yours…I think this little ballteam full of 16 to 18 year olds is the only thing you’re able to exert any kind of control over so your pathetic little self squeezes it for all it’s worth.

To you sir, I say, “FUUUUUUUUCKKKKK YOUUUUUUUU!” Fuck you right in your grubby ear.

Sincerely,
The ranting bitch who came a cunt’s hair away from bringing that damned baseball suit to your house at 10:30 p.m.

PS If you are a teacher? It’s a good idea to figure out how to privatize your Facebook wall. Probably not a good idea to post videos where people are describing politicians as “a fucking retard” and it’s probably even more of a NOT GOOD IDEA to use your own words to describe something as “retarded”. Perhaps you haven’t heard that that shit is no longer politically correct. It’s also not cool to use your own name on your blog and then refer to people from another country as “assholes” or people from a certain demographic area as “flatheads”. BECAUSE IT TOOK ABOUT 10 MINUTES OF DIGGING FOR ME TO FIND THIS SHIT AND I’LL SCOOT IT ALONG TO BE SURE IT’S KNOW THAT YOU ARE A RACIST, IGNORANT ASSFUCKINGHOLE.

She has figured out exactly what her hands are for and I don’t have the heart to swat her away from maiming me. She’s also way interested in what we are eating. I had to fight her for my bowl of popcorn today. I think sometime very soon she will get some food. And she drank out of a cup for the first time last week! Bean has been grabbing at our cups so I got her a little one of her own (a doidy cup) and put some milk in it (my milk. not cow milk). She was holding the handles of the cup while Sweety balanced the bottom and the look on her face when she took a drink was priceless. Her eyes about popped out of her head when she got a taste.

We went out for lunch today and she made a good effort at hoisting her own bottle.

I told Sweety I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t hold her own bottle because I think it might be nice to have someone else feed you. It appears that she’s proving me wrong. After lunch and the trip to the grocery store, she was conked out. It is seriously hard for me to do anything while she’s asleep because my inclination is to watch her sleep and pet her fat head.

The kid is growing like a weed. The shirt in this post? Looks like this now.

Our neighbor clocked her a little over 20 pounds on their bathroom scale. She was almost 17 at her check-up a month ago so that sounds about right. People have mentioned what a chubby baby she is and my reply is that she’s supposed to be.

One more picture….

The girl next door took this one when she was over there a few days ago. She and her grandparents were worried that I’d be offended if she took photos and posted them on Facebook because I wasn’t the one to take them. I told them to snap away because I like knowing that photos are being taken even though I’m not the one doing it.

The Bean is pretty much running the show here and I don’t give a shit. I decided that she’s only going to be little once so I’m not going to worry that she will be held too much or didn’t get to cry it out enough or that she’ll be sleeping with us when she’s in Junior High. I’m just going to enjoy her however she wants to be. It’s been pretty damned cool so far.

One Cheez-It.

I could have probably gotten another one in there if he’d have held still. He was too surprised to try and escape for the first one.

I yanked it out and Tiny Dog ate it.

You’re welcome.

Oh. About 3 minutes after typing the above, Sweety started writhing around in agony. It seems that a piece of the cracker broke off and he sniffed it into his sinus cavity. Don’t worry. We got it out and I’ve promised to not poke anything in there ever again. And for what it’s worth – he totally deserved having it stuck up in there in the first place. It’s not like I arbitrarily shoved a cracker in there.

Here. Gratuitous Bean video from the day she really started noticing her feet.