This here my friends is Jamey, the newest edition to my family (yep, he looks like a generic newborn but he's damn cute...except for Monday night when he wouldn't sleep from 1am-6 am and then Tommy got up for the day and I wanted to kill myself).

I will blame him for my complete lack of posting for this year as well as all of my funny disappearing...although, I'm confident that I'm actually pretty hilarious these days or I'm suffering from complete delirium due to the fact that I only sleep when both of the kids sleep, and when they sleep?? I want to party!!! And by party, I mean drink a beer and catch up on TV that I've missed...

except for Friday. Friday, John and I went out to thithwbar and to the firehouse and it was like old times. I pretended that I wasn't actually a mother of two with tons of responsibilities--which might explain why I woke up the next morning naked cuddling with a cheese curl (?), a headache of epic proportions, my iPhone in the (empty) bathtub (although it was clear that at some point I was trying to play Words With Friends drunkenly), and having Chelle come over the next evening to drop off my wallet because I had left it at the bar. Oh it was glorious...I miss being a drunk...because I am one amazing sloppy mess unlike anyone else you will ever meet. But my drunken days must come in moderation (ah irony, you bitch) and I'm back to wiping asses and tears, playing dinosaur with Tommy and trying to save Jamey from his older brother.

Next Saturday reunites me with Chelle and T for T's bachelorette party, it should be very interesting.

Oh and if you're a fan from way back when, I feel it's necessary to inform you that Derek (the reason this blog was created) is back in town,back to working at thitwbar AND living in my neighborhood with his parents temporarily. Being incredibly happy with John (I'm not just saying that because he reads this...John really is awesome, the father of my children, my soulmate and the one person who can make me laugh hysterically when I'm down), it's just a fun fact that has very little bearing on my current life.

So, I've been absent from the Internet for just about forever...that kind of sucks. I think about posting whenever John tells me I need a hobby--because blogging used to be my LIFE not just a hobby but I hesitate because my blog just isn't really fun anymore, mostly because my life really isn't that fun anymore.



I have an awesome husband, who I love so much and exasperate with my constant tears and/or violent verbal outbursts. I have an adorable son, who is just so perfect and wonderful. I have another (most likely just as) adorable son on the way and yet I am almost never happy and I have no real idea why.



Well, I kind of have an idea. I have no identity whatsoever anymore. I am a mom and a teacher--those are the two main identities I assume daily and there's really no time for anything else. From 8pm-10 pm I don't have any obligations (minus ignoring the grading that I need to do) and usually I just fall asleep on the couch. I haven't had my hair cut since the end of July. I haven't dyed it since 2008!!! Insanity! I used to get it done monthly, in various dark shades/highlights whatever. I don't really have time to put make up on. My clothes are hideous...the clothes I like, I can't wear because I'm pregnant and the clothes I have to wear are just plain ugly and more importantly, plain. I'm almost certain that the me from five years ago would've mocked the me of today. And with good reason.



I don't leave the house much, there's not much to do and anyways most of my friends are knee deep in tiny (not ready to be civilized) children too--so we're all living in self imposed lock down. Do I have friends anymore?? I'm not sure. And even if I could leave the house, what would I do?? I can only shop so much...I can only eat so much...Uggh, I just don't know. So my big question is--what do adults do for fun these days? And how can I make my life better? Any suggestions?

My new nickname for John is, "dork without borders"...
It's kind of like doctors without borders except he doesn't wear a labcoat, treat people or wear a stethoscope...
Mostly he acts like the biggest dork around (but he really doesn't...I just need someone to pick on).

But this comes from a woman who was previously calling her husband, Dorkus For Realius...um you know, a play on the name Marcus Aurealius. What? I did a report on him in 5th grade and I never forgot him. All of this leads me to believe that John probably calls me things under his breath and when I'm not around.

Day two of studying is done and we haven't killed each other yet. Of course, there were petty arguments over why John feels the need to destroy all of my paperclips that hold the myriad...no, the mountain, of papers from which I have gleaned all the information needed for studying tonight. I then spout robotically, speaking in a stunted manner as I batter the thoughts, trying to cling to them and I attempt to force these thoughts into my long term memory (one of the topics tonight! How to move information from the sensory level to the short term memory to it's final resting place--the elusive fucking long term memory) at John as he has to prepare his own dinner because damn it...I'm just too damn busy! But he's a saint and says nothing about his two hour commute (longer tonight because of snow) and just put check marks next to all the facts that I've listed and little evil minus symbols next to the information I've neglected to remember...oh how I hate the minuses.

He's a good little helper, I'm a good little studier and oh by the way, I am SO FUCKING OVER THIS TEST and would love to write about something else but I'm afraid to think about anything except educational psychology, Piaget, Vygotsky, Constructivism and all that "good stuff". Of course, yesterday's topics are still ringing in my ears. I will tell you, I was rewarded for all my hardwork by John later in the bedroom and I hope I pissed the neighbors off with our late night antics because I'm spiteful, I'm cranky and I'm nervous...ah, the joys of being a student. Apparently I look pitiful because my mother took me out to dinner to "stop stressing and to just enjoy a good meal" and she gave me forty dollars as we exited the restaurant so that I could "go treat myself to something nice when this test is all over". I love her.

Ok, this jarbled, jumbled, rambling rant is over for the night. And don't worry people...I will be far more exciting once Saturday is over!

After days of outlining and after lost days of studying due to the fact that I had to languish on the couch feverishly, sometimes crying (true story) over the fact that I thought I was hallucinating...I think I'm actually ready to see if I remember the crap I've been outlining. Because of this John's role of nursemaid gets traded in for the role of study buddy.

Many men wouldn't be excited to help their wives or girlfriends study but, once I pass this test I get a sizeable increase in pay (well, next year) and that means that I will panhandle from John less by the month's end! It's a win/win situation for everyone.

Now, here's the rub...John and I are completely different thinkers. John has an analytic mind, I tend to flit from here to there and back in about 10 seconds flat. When he tried to help me in December with my research study, I was resistent because I didn't like his methods and we both threw our hands up. I glared at him until he ran away and painted our bedroom...but later, we learned how to mesh our big brains and he helped me pull a big fat A out of my class--something that I can typically do alone when the classes don't require math, or the need to discuss descriptive statistics in a presentation. I was thankful for his help (particularly because it knocked three essay questions off the test!). So tonight, my study buddy and I will be discussing the fine topics of Jonathon Kozol, Henry Giroux, John Dewey and how they would react to some stupid article. We will also deeply examine cultural literacy, Afrocentricism and multiculturalism and how Diane Ravitch, Molefi Asante and Arthur Schlesinger, Jr feel on the subjects. To top off the evening, we will discuss the question of whether or not schools are used to solve social problems. Feel free to discuss these very burning questions with your loved ones tonight.

Geez...I had a to dust off the keyboard before typing, it's been that long!!
vacation has been glorious so far, I think I'm crossing the halfway point now and I never want it to end. However, just like life, vacations have their highs and lows. Let me explain in list form:

1. Thursday evening officially marked John's holiday break...for some reason, I thought I'd celebrate too. After a few rum and pineapple juices (daiquiris if you will...John's been reading a lot of Fitzgerald lately and daiquiris are anything that are rum based mixed with fruit juices, he's trying to bring it back--don't ask me why), I had a glass of Jameson and we played lots of Trivial Pursuit and sang to music. You can imagine my excitement when I got up at 6 the next morning. It reminded me of the good old days and why I don't like drinking during the week.

2. I came home from work on Friday and the house was full of deliciousness. On John's day off, he cleaned and he made me my favorite dinner! MMMMM! This is why I'm keeping him. More drunken Trivia Pursuit ensued (hey, it's a cheap yet fun entertainment...plus our local, hometown bar is closed for the entire holiday). I made John giggle with some drunken dirty talk...it was pretty funny, good thing he didn't start laughing until it was all over.

3. Saturday was the laziest day we had. We laid on the couch, did some grocery shopping and watched bad movies (namely, Hatchet, John didn't even make it through that one). We also had dinner where we were outnumbered by pregnant people, and toddlers.

4. Sunday we lounged. Then John took me to lunch since I've been salivating over commercials of shrimp. I believe at one point I said that I wanted my teeth removed and replaced with baline so that I could just guzzle shrimp down by the dozen at a time. I know, I know...what a dream to have!! Then we went out to see our friends down at the FQB. There we were on a mission to catch a buzz because our drunken friends had been there since 2 pm. We started with White Russians, switched over to shots of blackberry vodka and coke, more dark rum and pineapple, a shot of SoCo and lime, and then finally switching to a single beer and a shrug...we were well beyond our budget for the evening and well behind everyone else in the bar who were at this point posing with a giant blow up penis. Ah the holidays, so festive!

5. Monday was the low point in my vacation. It started off great...in keeping with our "drink lots of alcohol theme" of the holiday, John whipped up some vodka, cranberry and sprites for us and we sat and watched Die Hard, which John has declared to be his favorite "holiday movie ever". After a few of these drinks I started to feel not so good. In fact, only three of them had me on my knees praying for death. That "warm and fuzzy feeling stayed with me for hours...it wasn't until about 8 pm that I was able to actually keep food down. Unfortunately, this is the same amount of time I got to spend with T, as I ran back and forth to the bathroom. This little exchange though almost got me strangled.
(John comes back into the house after he ran out saying he was going "to get me something")
John: I brought you Wendy's, you need to something!
Me: I was hoping you got me Pepto Bismol or something... (as I greedily took my sandwich)
John: (tries to keep his hands from my neck) I'll run back out...
Me: No, I'll be ok, this sandwich should help...
I take three bites and fall asleep.

Needless to say, I had a lot of damage control to do on Christmas morning!! I'll stop off here for now.

Hangover be gone. Seriously, can someone please stop the evil dwarf that's in my head pounding on my skull with a hammer from the inside?? Last night was our friend Ronnie's birthday. We went to one of our favorite restaurants and then back to his house for a little house party action. It was like being in college again except with far better beer and no one was making out against the wall. Because Ronnie and his roommate are beer snobs I imbibed high octane beer rather than my watered down light beer. This resulted in me tripping over a cord, spilling an entire glass of beer and knocking over an amplifier...plus that little detail of me being sprawled all over the garage with five shocked musicians staring down at me wondering why the music had died. To be fair, I am naturally clumsy, there were sixty thousand cords snaked everywhere AND I was wearing platform heels. It was very early in the evening and I hadn't had nearly enough to blame it on the booze. Later? Well that's an entirely different story.

Those heels will be the death of me. As my care taker, John took one look at my wobbly self and suggested that I sit down on the steps and slide down them rather than break my neck. He has all the good ideas. I flew down the steps at what seemed to be slightly faster than the speed of sound and "gracefully" landed on the floor in what I assume was a very chic pose. You know, legs akimbo and arms flailing while yelling, "whoooooaaaaa!" Two seconds later, John came tumbling after...apparently I wasn't the only one having problems with gravity.

A girl at the party whom I despise took one look at John and I sprawled and laughing at the bottom of the steps and said, "Do you guys need a drink? A drink of water maybe?" Her suggestion was scorned, of course. And seriously, her one liners need work.

Gravity continued to work against me all night and I finally admitted defeat, and that's why dear friends, I left the party shoeless. And that's what happens when you don't leave the house very often anymore...you become socially inept. And I'm ok with that, because I have a partner in crime and suffering--John's on the other couch making moaning sounds that remind me of two whales humping each other. I'm not exactly sure why it would remind me of that because I've never experienced whale love making, but it has to sound like this.

While playing Trivial Pursuit last night and losing miserably, I turned to my other skill set to help me in my time of need...I worked on a riff of nicknames for John. I submit them for your approval:

1. Le Douche
2. Sir Douchebaggery
3. El Douche ( pronounced: du- chee)
4. My Favorite Douchebag (like My Favorite Martian)

Mid list I sang, "Pass the douchie to left..."
corrupting this song:



And that's how I amused myself while being trounced, until John with his tragic eyes says, "Why must I be the douche?"

Why indeed? Because you're beating me at board games sucker! It's not a coincidence that every time John and I see my mom she makes sure to mention that I am a sore loser.

So, John and I were just sitting back on the couch the other night kicking around baby names (don't worry/or be excited, I'm not pregnant) kind of just warming our feet to idea and because after being around all the pregnant people and all the kids we were faced with tons of baby names...it made us think. Well, baby names has always been a secret pleasant past time for me (a very covert thing that I have enjoyed in the privacy of my own home and rarely owning up to it in the presence of others). I never really thought I would have babies persay, but I've always enjoyed trying to come up with the perfect name combination. I think I got it from my dad. Yes, that's right, big burly biker used to be working on his Harley, and he'd stop and tell me some random name and say, "That name just flows...doesn't it?" Then he'd go back to some minor tune up. I think he liked names so much that it's the reason he had an alias (ha ha, yeah right! That's the reason! Although I find it adorable that his alias first name was Augie.)

Well, the next day at work I had some down time so I hit up a baby name website and quickly copied a list of names. I pasted it into my email and then in three minutes or so, highlighted names that I liked. I probably liked about 16 names in total (I'm picky, what?!?) I quickly sent it to John with the subject like reading, "I did this because it was fun! Make your own list!"

Later I checked my email and there was email from John that clearly stated his incredulousness with me, "You made a list of two hundred names for fun?!?" I scrolled down to see what he was talking about and there my list was...except the 16 names that I had highlighted weren't highlighted and there was just a random list of 200 names! I slapped my head and replied, "Um...no pressure here...I just picked 16 names, using that list!" Obviously, John either thinks I'm a lunatic or that I want to have no less than 200 of his babies. I explained later but I think after this little episode he'll be keeping his sperm under lock and key for a bit.

When you're watching TV with your husband and he asks you, "Do you want to spoon?"

And you reply, "Why? What do you have?? Why do I need a spoon?"

Seriously, my stomach is a bottomless pit this week and it's doing nothing for my hips.

(First of all...let me say that you are reading my 1,000 post! That's not including my 5,000 drafts! Wooo! I'm so impressed with myself!)

John is a saint. It is very clear to me now that this is actually true and that I'm not just proclaiming it on the blog so that he gives me nookie. Sure, sometimes he's really bossy and he's always on me to be neater (which is really rough, I mean, my house is soo clean...and that's horrible right??!? Nope, I'm glad to be living with a neatnik), but all in all, he's pretty ok and here's why:

Picture yourself in a deep, deep sleep. You dream that you are in an exotic bathroom that is kind of like a hybrid bathroom/outdoor awesome bathhouse in the middle of the Amazon (I don't know, it was my dream and I can't even describe it). Butterflies are floating by you, and everything is verdant and lush. There, up on a mossy mound is a gorgeous toilet (? what constitutes a gorgeous toilet? I have no idea) and you sit upon it and...

...you are actually dreaming that you're peeing...which means that when you wake up you're actually peeing all over your husband!

Um yeah, that was me last night. Can't say that that has happened in about 25 years (not counting my drunken peeing sessions) but hey, it was a really engrossing dream and I gave John a golden shower without his consent. So what did he do about it?

John shrugged it off and moved to the floor with me, where we cuddled up and went back to sleep. Lysol and mattress flipping awaits me later. And yeah, I don't need to hear it...I put the gross in engrossing dreams. Seriously, yo.

PS. Sweetie, I think that means you get a couple of blowjobs and no dishes for a week :)

From me after John did my statistics work for grad school and emailed it to me:
:) Thanks! I <3 U.

From John: Love you too! PS. Did you still have $ to put in the joint account?

From me: Yes. PS. You wouldn't have sent me a "love you too" email except that you had to remind me to put money in the account. Jerk. ;)

From John: I wouldn't pay your bills if I didn't love you.
:) <---- smug grin

From me: :) <---- Crying on the inside with gratitude (and sarcasm).


Can you feel the love, people?? Can ya?

Did you know that if you blow zerberts on John's belly, inner thigh or the back of his knee that he will squeal like a little girl and shriek, "Gaaaaahhhh!"

Neither did I, until last night.

For some reason my ability to link has disappeared...but I'm going to do all this stuff to John next!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yrCTSB3edXs

[Cue maniacal laughter]

Like all married couples we like to mix it up a little in the bedroom...

so last night was no surprise when John made quite a bold suggestion, and then I took that suggestion and ran with it! I could hear the incredulity in his voice as he said in the dark, "You're really going to do that?!?"

And kids, I can proudly say that I really did it...

I switched sides of the bed with him and we slept at the foot of the bed.

You don't have to tell me, smugly I can say that we are totally wild.


Sorry this is a way better story than when we were sitting on the couch and I started giving him a blow job while Cash Cab was on last night. What can I say, I'm competitive...if I know that the answer is "Mei Kong Delta" you damn well better believe I'm going to come up for air and shout it out. That's just the kinda gal I am.

I am constantly amazed at how good John is at being a husband. He totally read my mind all weekend. This is what I telepathically told him to do, and he did it! Seriously folks, he's good.

I said:

"Make me a homemade Stromboli!" (and he did! and it was AWESOME...I've never had such an awe inspiring combo of pizza dough and every meat product I love).

"Have sex with me, and put your back into it, Boy!" (Here, he got a little confused because he put my back into it, and now I have lots of sexy rug burn on my back...but it was worth getting it, plus it never truly hurts in the moment, only after.)

"Get me drunk!" (Boy did he ever...well, to be fair, I think I was the one swallowing the delicious mixes that he was handing me--but wow! He also wins bonus points for attempting to put me to bed when it was clear that I was no longer communicating with human beings and that gravity was beginning to work against me. Of course, I did not take this bed-time thing lying down, I popped up (of course) to harass everyone while they played wii!)

"Hold my hair when I puke!" (He needed to do this because when I woke up all bleary eyed he handed me an alcoholic beverage, citing "The hair of the dog". I took one whiff of it and scooted off to the bathroom to retch)

"Feed me!" (Several times he fed me. First it was Wendy's to coat my stomach, then he made me some pork meal that used all the contents of our very bare cabinets. You see, I was too busy drinking to actually go to the grocery store and purchase items for consumption. Yesterday I learned that pork, BBQ sauce and pasta actually taste really good together...I wish I had never found this out.)

I started crying when John's sister was showing us the set up nursery which is absolutely gorgeous. John laughed at me and held me as I whined, "I want a baby...I want all this cool stuff!" His sister came back and the room and John asked if we could borrow some of the stuff when/if we decide to get pregnant and I hissed to him, "Won't my baby be special enough to get her own stuff?" and then bawled. I think hormones are dangerous things. I continued to cry even as John patted my back and told me that my baby could be as spoiled as I wanted--adding quietly, "Just like you are."

If only this was the least brattiest thing I did this weekend...if only.