It's 1:30 in the stinkin' morning and I'm still working.  Technically, I'm taking a break from working, but still.  The point is the same.  And the only reason why I'm taking a break anyway is because if I have to write the letters ST, OT, or DT one more time, I'm pretty sure that the twitch in my left eyelid will turn into a full blown seizure.  

To make matters even more AWESOME, my uterus is pumping enough estrogen through my body to qualify any of my actions as those of the legally least that's what my defense will be...

I wish I had more interesting things to say.  I guess I could talk about how The Smoodge familiarized herself with the Heimlich Maneuver today, but my brain is on the fritz right now, so ask me about it later.  Or how I had an interesting debate with a friend in the office today about...crap, I completely forgot.  I know it was interesting because I remember there being laughing, but as to got me.  Crap, how's that for a story.

Okay, back to the grind.  I'd like to get at least 20 minutes of sleep tonight.



I can feel the panic starting to rise. That burning in the pit of my stomach that causes my heart to pound and my breath to catch. The one that causes me to feel the catch in my throat as I try to keep the tears from pouring down my face.

In 17 minutes I go home. And I won't be picking up The Smoodge before I get there.

For the first time in 2 years.

She's spending the night with her dad tonight. She's never done that before. Every night of her life, since the moment she was born, she has slept in MY arms, in MY bed. She has woken up every morning and planted kisses all over MY face (even if it's AFTER she's Sharpied MY couch cushions). She has had her pudgy little feet jammed into MY ribs and spine. She wakes up in the middle of the night to pull MY arms back around her.

But not tonight. Not tomorrow morning.

Now we're down to 12 minutes.


Today's Emoticon: Angry

Don't say you haven't been warned.


Not Even a Little Bit

Motivated to work right now, that is. I'm tired, by muscles are mad at me, and my head has directed my most recent headache to my forehead. It's been a looooong weekend, and it's not over yet. And not in a good way.

I moved this weekend. In one day. Mostly. I mean, I took a truckload, no, TWO truckloads of boxes over on Thursday night (and by truckload I don't mean great big trucks that require a special license to drive, I mean a Ford F-150), Friday night I steam cleaned the carpets, and cleaned as much as I could out of the fridge, because it was freaking nasty people, but that's another paragraph. Anyway, then after that I went back to the old place to box up the rest of the crap. Saturday morning we woke up early and moved everything else out. That only took until about 5:30 or so. So maybe not one day. Anyway, the point is, I am completely in the new place, and completely out of the old place. Except the new place is old, and because it's old, I have to do A LOT of cleaning before I'll be comfortable unpacking done, and that's taking For Ev Ver. The Smoodge's room is mostly done, the bathroom is done, and that's it. The kitchen is my current goal, then the living room. Last is my room. Which means I'm sleeping on the couch right now, and wearing whatever clothing I packed last. Which sucks. I suck at this moving thing. HOPEFULLY though, after this, I'll either buy a house and live there until I die and be buried in the backyard, or I'll move to KC where at least I'll have help in moving. I don't care which.

The Smoodge turned two yesterday as well. Time has flown by. Yesterday was weird for me. I'd look at the clock and think back to the day she was born, and what I was doing exactly two years ago from that moment. Oh, that's when they gave me the epidural. Oh, that's when the cervidil (sp?) kicked in. Sarah and Tina came by at this time. Starting to push now. Etc, etc. I think what was also weird for me is that The Smoodge had no idea it was her birthday. She's two. She doesn't care. It's just another day for her, and why does Mommy keep hugging her and trying to hold her like a baby? I mean, everyone is all excited about her, and she doesn't get it. Next year, maybe, but this year, not so much. It holds more meaning for me right now than it does her. Not that she didn't enjoy the attention, oh, she did, she just doesn't understand why she got it. She had a blast at her party, she LOVED eating cake, and she had fun pulling out all the tissue from her gift bags. So much as changed in the last two years. For her, for me. It just blows me all away.

Has anyone ever noticed who quickly Super Bubble chewing gum loses it's flavor? And once it does, it begins to quickly turn your breath into a noxious fume that would peel paint off a naval boat.

Okay, so I started this post fully intending to finish it out, but now the two brain cells I was forcing to click together have died and I am unable to focus on anything other than getting some food in me and making my arms and legs stop burning. And back. Oh, and neck. Anyway, later I'll try to throw some pictures up of the party. And the new digs.