May I present … the diaper tower.

 I didn’t expect to have any kind of shower for TWO. After all … I just had a boy three years ago. But my co-workers ignored me (I told them nothing was needed) and threw me one anyway.

Let me tell you something about my work place. It’s crazy. Not really the fun kind … more like the OMG … this place is actually crazy, and I think it’s making me crazy kind.

But I love the people there, and I have made some very good friends.

I have a leaning tower of diapers because I work with a bunch of generous, thoughtful, people. We all share a not-fun job that stresses us out (some more than others) and I think that has bonded us. I understand the kind of effort it takes to plan and implement ANY kind of event, let alone buy a gift, while working the kind of job that we work.

Crazy people in a crazy place. That’s what we have going on.

We are naming our son Asher because it means happy and blessed. That is what we are. I am so grateful for all of the people in our life who make it what it is.

I just hung up on a man simply because I cannot tolerate being yelled at one more time today.

I just can’t.

He’ll be okay.

Is it unacceptable to snack in a gynecologist’s exam room? Because I did. After an hour of waiting, plucking my eyebrows, flipping through magazines, and texting, I just broke down and ate my lunch. Right there next to the exam table. Stirrups and all.

Today was one of the worst days I’ve had in quite some time. I do not care to rehash. What I do want to share, is that sometime in the middle of this horrible day I noticed that my purse was much heavier than usual. Upon inspection, I found that ONE had filled it with rocks (where did he find those??) and toy race cars. 

I would have taken a picture, but alas — I washed my iphone in the washing machine on Monday.

Finding that stash in my purse made me instantly feel better. My job sucks, my husband refuses to do yard work, I got a parking ticket. So many things went wrong today … but looking inside my purse and finding all that stuff made it all better.

Motherhood makes me a better person.

Today I took ONE to the doctor and waited for a very long time. When his pediatrician finally saw him, we learned that he has not just one, but two, small tears in his rectum. This explains why every time he has to poop he gets upset and tries to hold it in. It also explains why he constantly tells me “my booty hurts.”

I felt HORRIBLE. 

Then we left and I forgot to pick up his prescription. That made me feel worse.

We got home and I realized my throat was hurting and my neck and face looked swollen so I took a look with the flashlight. My tonsils appear to be infected. I feel okay … just tired. More tired than usual for a person who is very pregnant. I have no fever. So I decided to ignore it for now, because I had to deal with ONE, who was declaring every two seconds that his booty hurt.

Later, after we took a nap I found that ONE’s bed was soaked. His pullup leaked. So I stripped him and his bed and somehow in the middle of all of that, ended up throwing my iphone in the washing machine with the dirty sheets.

I washed it.

Here’s to hoping we can make it until Husband gets home without something happening that requires a telephone. Like labor.

I just purchased a personalized rubber stamp and I couldn’t be more excited. I even used a coupon code.

So there you go … two reasons why it’s clear I’ve crossed into “real” adulthood. Next step: embossed stationery.

BlogHer Publishing Network contacted me today and asked if this little blog can be a part of their network!

I’m not entirely sure what this means yet, but … IAMSOEXCITED.

… that you should steer clear of your new co-worker:

1. She has a Beanie Baby collection.

2. Her cubicle is decorated with stuffed animals.

3. You learn (on day two) that she practices witchcraft.

4. She talks loudly. And closely. To your face.

I could go on with this list, but I think I’ve listed more than enough red flags to signal STEER CLEAR.

Something about the insurance industry seems to attract odd characters. Or maybe it’s just my particular office … because we have a lot of them.

It seems that despite everything I currently have going on, I still cannot bring myself to show up to a function with store bought confections. Nope. On Friday night, I stayed up until 10 pm (THAT IS VERY LATE FOR ME … I CAN HEAR YOU SNICKERING.) making something resembling this:

(source)

 It’s stupid. I don’t have a problem with store bought cake. I knew when I was undertaking this task, that it was ridiculous. “Put your feet up and rest,” I told myself. “Go to bed. You’ve been up since 5 a.m.” But I couldn’t do it. I HAD TO MAKE THAT CAKE.

When Husband got home, he took one look at me and said “You look funny out of your eyes.”

I later realized (while laying in bed trying to go to sleep) I really do have a problem. I actually think I owe myself $80, because that is how much the therapist I saw postpartum would have charged me to diagnose my behavior.

I have MPD. That’s Misplaced Perfectionism Disorder. I made that up. It’s not a real disorder, but I think that is what drives me to undertake pointlessly difficult tasks for no good reason. Why do I spend an hour getting ready in the morning? Insist on keeping the house clean? Why can’t I just let my house be dirty?!?!?!? I WANT TO LET IT BE DIRTY, BUT I JUST CAN’T.

Perhaps it’s just simple pride that drives me. I don’t want to accept that I have limitations. I want to do what I want to do, swollen ankles be damned.

I’ll mull that over while I am spending the $80 I just collected from myself.

I have a confession to make.

Sometimes, I think that my life would drastically improve if my legs didn’t rub together so much when I walk. Or if I had a housekeeper. And a perpetual tan.

Read more here!