My latest droppings....


Good Morning

- So much for the come back huh? Ahhh how we start out with the best intentions, and more often then not when it's a promise I've made to myself I break it easily.
But here I am, trying to "nourish my inner twinkle".
I've purchased a book by Brook Noel titled, Good Morning. It is full of 365 inspirational messages for every day of the year. I thought perhaps since my day is usually guided by my morning it wouldn't hurt to try to start things out positively.
My mornings are typically spent trying to stay calm as I get ready, half asleep with a 19 month old toddler screaming at me to hold him. In a frazzled rush I take a shower, with him peeking in the curtain sometimes throwing clean laundry I've folded into the shower so that I must dry it again.
I put my make-up on while he sits on my dresser insisting I give him more mousse to run through his hair.
He screams at me while I dry my hair because he doesn't like the blow dryer and then he screams some more because I can't hold him while I try to get dressed. Lovely way to start the morning.
I then wake my 11 year old up, who takes FOREVER to stir. He's so at that age. And, I take the baby in to get dressed which is an event in itself.
Typically, by the time I'm leaving the house (on time) I have to turn around and go back into the house 3 more times for things I've forgotten (causing me to now be late).
I bought the book and thought, when will I have time to start my morning with this thing? There's no way. But, wait. Hope. I typically arrive at my place of work 10 minutes before the hustle and bustle. 10 minutes before everyone rushes in and needs something. 10 minutes of peace.... and quiet.... away from my children..... before the stress starts. The perfect opportunity to read my quote for the day and ponder it the way it should be pondered.
I read the first quote and was instantly inpired to start my blog again. A basic, Make time for You, quote it was.
I logged on that night, and wrote the Come Back. I felt great! This was going to be a really good thing for me.
Then, something crazy happened. I found my 10 minutes at working to be slipping slowly by. I would read e-mails first and get sucked in before I read my "Good Morning".
Needless to say, I began beating myself up and feeling very guilty about wanting to blog about this book, spending the money, and then not making the time to read it.
So today I thought..... when it becomes another task to get done, it isn't helping anymore. Who cares if I have to miss some of the Good Mornings? I'll read them again next year. So this morning, I didn't get to read my quote. But I came home, I just put my toddler to bed. The eleven year old is watching a movie, and I found myself with some time. I read my quote now, and it was just as effective. I decided I wanted to blog about it. I ended up writing this explanation for what was going on.
Am I going to blog about the quote? Not tonight. I needed to get this down. I feel better. Now I'm tired. So this is enough. And I'm fine with that. I'll blog tomorrow's quote... Perhaps.


The Comeback, maybe

So here I am returning to my blog that I haven't touched in what? Like two years? I contemplated getting rid of it since I never use it anymore, but I want to be able to use it so badly that I couldn't. Two days ago I started this blog... in the same way. Saying how I was glad to be back, finding 20 minutes of uninterrupted time to myself between the howling demands of my 19 month old and sassy backtalk from my 11 year old. Snickering at the idea that the only time I could actually find 20 minutes of uninterrupted 'me' time was at work. I rambled on writing something that I found quite amusing and then... in no time at all things became hectic, duties called and I closed the post without saving it.
I was pissed. And honestly, thought 'I hate this fucking blog'. Of course I should realize I am never going to have time for it.
I'm attempting once again, this evening in my home, to rekindle my love for blogging. Not really so much blogging, but writing down all my thoughts and opinions secretly hoping someday someone will discover it and I will have my own little blog posse. Deep down I know it won't happen but the release I feel of pent up tension when I write is not only good for my health, but good for the health of those around me.
I make my feeble attempt here. Sitting on my sofa at home, in comfy pajamma pants, a Twilight Hoodie ( yes I'm an addict) and snow man slippers. I also have a glass of wine, red... albeit not in the proper glass. I grabbed a juice cup frhe cabinet, poured the wine and plopped myself down. So I'll take this slowly, see how it goes, and see if I can squeeze enough time into my life for me that I can blog again.


Expanding Tip Jars

I happen to be one who throws the change (no bills though) into tip jars when they are sitting there, however I frequently ask myself why I do this. When I opened up MSN and saw the above picture with the following title: What's with all those Tip Jars?
I had to read it. (

I find it apalling myself that there are more and more tip jars sitting next to registers where the employee hardly has to offer any kind of customer service. I find them out at Subway a lot. Granted.... okay... some of the folks make my sandwich a little better than the others, but really, they are just making a sandwich. You can't screw it up too bad when I'm standing there telling you exactly what to put on it and I'm watching you to make sure you're doing it right. Typically, I pay, get my own drink and find my own seat. I even clean off my own table when I'm done eating. No one comes out from behind the bar to ask if I would like a re-fill. So, what exactly am I tipping for? That you were able to perform the requirement of your job? Now, I have seen them at places where there are shows put on.... like the fudge shops. They are cooking the fudge in front of you and they sell the fudge when it's done.... but MAN they can put on a damn good performance as well. And they sing the same songs each time with a type of cheeriness that says they never get tired of doing it. THIS I will tip for and don't mind it. Maybe I should put a tip jar on my desk. I do my job well, perhaps my employees and coworkers would tip me? Maybe my boss would? I think why I even bother throwing my change into other's jars and it is simply because when it's only 75 cents, I feel like a cheapskate if I'm seen pocketing it. But the truth is, I want my 75 cents. I have a son that it comes in handy for at school lunches. Do employers even know that some of their employees are doing this? I just don't get it.


The Late, Great C-Section Debate

Okay, so my title doesn't exactly make sense, but I liked it anyway.

As you all know, though I don't really have any readers yet, I have become part of a pregnancy web-site. It is very informative, and I like following what my baby is doing week by week. Like most of the pregnancy sites out there, it also has message boards.

Most of the topics on these boards, albeit informative, actually kind of gross me out. They involve a lot of question from mother's to be about smelly discharge and lumps found 'down there'. In my opinion, go straight to your doctor for these problems. However, there is a lot of motivation and enthusiasm to be found as well. First time mothers who are scared and would just like advice, and mothers who are very excited to 'post' at the top of their lungs that they are "HAVING A BOY". I respond to posts that I feel I have any knowledge at all in that might help the other person out or comfort them in some way. Otherwise, I leave them alone as I am not going to post just to see my name (that's what this site is for:)
I do believe due to one posting I have been outcast from the group. What will I do now?
The subject line read c-section versus natural.

The initial post, in a nutshell was a woman wanting to know why people would elect to have c-sections. I had an unplanned c-section with my first child. I am now electing to have a c-section with my second child, so I thought I would tell her why I was doing so.

I won't go through the entire lengthy post again here, but roughly I stated that I was electing to have a second c-section because I had weighed the risks (which were very low in both cases of a.) having a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean) and b.) a cesearean.
In all honesty I can say the complications of my old incision possibly ripping open during a VBAC scares the daylights out of me more than the complications of a c-section gone awry.

Yes, I understand that the possibility of something going wrong in either case is like 2%, but human fear is not always logical people! I am much more comfortable with what I am familiar with. I am familiar with a c-section. I know what to expect in delivery and in recovery.

I was bombarded with remarks from mother's who obviously look down their keyboards at me now about how natural child birth is the best thing etc. etc. etc. I have to say.... most had not even had their first babies yet which kind of frustrated me.
What frustrated me more was, I was not attacking anyone. The post asked why would someone elect to have a c-section. I was answering the question.

What I further thought was, why do these women care what I'm choosing to do? It's none of their business. It's a personal choice. Why do they let my choice bother them so much. It further got twisted into celebraties who have c-sections just because they can. Who cares, if they have the money and they aren't afraid of surgery? My son was no less healthy than babies that are delivered vaginally. Are there actual reasons (besides the know complications) that a vaginally delivered baby is any 'better' than a baby delivered by c-section? If it makes those women more comfortable who cares that they do it? I don't believe that my friend who delivered vaginally is a better mother than I am....
So what exactly is the big deal? Just because it's not the way you would do it, does that make it wrong?


Do NOT feel up this pregnant woman

So, because its happening more and more amongst friends and strangers alike, I felt the need to blog about this appaling act. At first I thought that maybe this was a feeling I felt alone. Am I the only pregnant person who feels violated when somenoe automatically assumes they can rub a part of my body without an invitation? To me, to rub someone, baby in there or not, is an extremely personal thing. I don't rub your belly, or grab your crotch or breast.... well, at least not without an invitation. "But we wanna feel the baby!" they say. Well, one you can't feel the actual baby yet, so you are just rubbing me and two, if you didn't help create the baby you are not entitled to share something that I think is very intimate. That being said, when I get to a stage where others can feel the baby kick, I do invite some friends to feel. But it is a RARE occasion. And friend or not friend (and especially stranger) don't just reach out and touch! It's rude!

I recently searched for blogs or articles from other's that feel the same way and found a wonderful post on one of my new favorite blogger's blogs. If you have time, check it out, andby all means.... don't rub our bellies!

I thought Pregnancy was Supposed to be a Wonderful time?

So, I'm on this pregnancy website this morning because I like to check in occasionally and see what I can be expecting this week. And, I go to the bulletins for other expecting women that are due in July. Well, I read multiple posts about how beautiful pregnancy is, and round bellies are attractive, and this is supposed to be the greatest time of a woman's life. Well, one... I've been through it before so try to bullshit the first timers, and two... what exactly is supposed to be so great?
I understand the whole... it's a miracle that you're creating life, thing but I don't get why I am supposed to feel excited about the process. The whole thing is uncomfortable. I thought... well, maybe I am just bitter because I have been so sick... so I thought I would make a list of the pros and cons of pregnancy.

I vomit all the time (although less now than in the beginning)
When I can eat, I have to think about what something will taste like coming back up, just in case I vomit.
I wake up throughout the night to pee.
I can't have a beer.
Smells nauseate the hell out of me.
I can't get comfortable sleeping on my stomach anymore.
I can't have soda.
I can't eat my favorite kinds of cheese anymore
I am tired ALL THE TIME
I can't go out and party unless everything is done by 6 p.m.
I can't fit in my cute clothes anymore
I can't get in a sauna to relax my aching muscles.
I HAVE achy muscles
I constantly have crampy feelings because of the adjustments my abdomen is making
I have so much saliva its rediculous
I have to remember to take 3 different medications throughout the day.
My back is killing me!!
I want to rearrange furniture and I can't.
I can't wear my contacts, because for some reason I can't see as well out of them anymore.
I missed my favorite foods over the holidays!
I was so sick I couldn't enjoy the holidays
I was in bed by 8 p.m. on New Year's Eve, except when I woke up to throw up and saw fireworks outside my window.
I hate all the advice that people give me.... you'd think they would stop when it's your second one, but no chance.
I hate needing help because I'm overtired or because I can't lift or do certain things anymore.
All my shoes hurt my feet (and they are so cute)
People I hardly know suddenly want to talk to me. With high squeaky voices of congratulations etc.
All the kicking once the baby is big enough. Corbin really used to hurt me... it's so uncomfortable.
ALL the doctor's appt's that take time out of my work day.
Having nothing else to talk about because its the only thing that going on in your life right now.
I could go on and on.... but I'll stop there for a while.
And before I go into pros of being pregnant, let me just say this is not a pros and cons list for once you actually have the baby. I have many pros for having a child, but it's the actual pregnancy I'm focusing on here, and trust me when I say I'm being generous.

It is nice when you get to hear the baby's heartbeat.
You can be a little more rude and blame it on hormones.
Ummm..... Can someone else help me out here? Anyone??

Yeah... that's what I thought. I think I have proven my point.


The Pretty Girl with the shit car....

This post was originally done on my personal web-page, but seeing as I'm starting a whole new blogging era... I thought I would take the old ones and move them to their new home.

What a shit morning I've had.

Our motor vehicles place has screwed me over with my car. I am currently living overseas and when I arrived here they listed my father as the owner of my vehicle. (their mistake) Even though I tried to get them to fix that the last 3 years every person I saw was too lazy.
I go in to get my annual registration for the car renewed, and I finally get someone who says "you cant register this car you aren't the owner".

Big mess of course. I now have to prove the vehicle is mine with documents from the bank, and credit Union etc. Usually no big deal, all though
"Why?" I asked the stupid motor vehicle people, "Why do I have to prove the car is mine, when my father has never had to prove it was his?"
Hmmmm (almost a deep thought dont ya think?)

Anyway call my credit union etc. to let them know that I'm up shit creek because they won't let me register my car (can't drive a car or get gas on a car that is not registered) and ask them to send the title etc.

Of course, being that my loan is from the credit union on Dover AIR FORCE BASE, serving the military community, you'd think they'd be used to dealing with people who are sent overseas.

"Can you fax the information to me?" I ask..
"We dont have the capability to fax overseas," the cow says.
"Can you scan it in an e-mail it to me?" I ask.
"We don't have the capability to scan," the cow says.
"By the way", she says, "Your insurance has dropped."
"No," I say, "I switched it."
"Well," she says "your new insurance company has not sent us a copy of your new policy. We have sent notices to you (which I didn't receive because they sent them to MY FATHER) she says, "that we are going to re-possess your car."

"So tell me" I say to her in a very sarcastic tone "how are you going to repossess my car in Germany, when you don't even have the capability to send a fax over here?"
The cow actually starts laughing and we get everything straightened out, however, I have to wait for them to MAIL me my paperwork.

In the mean time, this week I have not been able to drive my car. Luckily, the folks said I could use their car.
So I get up this morning and I go to start the car, and it wont start. Something to do with some kind of electric shortage in it or something because I can't do anything automatic in it. I can't unlock the doors automatically, I can't pop the trunk etc.
So, I e-mail my assistant because I can't get a-hold of her by phone, and ask if she can come get me. She calls me on my cell phone in the meantime and tells me she doesn't feel well today and shes not coming in.
So, I get the keys to my mom's ugly green station wagon. I learned to drive on a stick, but have never driven one since then, so I'm very nervous about driving the car. Must get to work though.
So the car starts up fine. I'm driving pretty smoothly. A little scared though about the shifting. I'm handling it superbly though.
Well the car starts puttering and stalling as soon as ..... Wait for it. ........I get on the fast highway with all the morning traffic.
I stalled twice and had to pull over. WTF???? I was scared out of my mind. Not to mention, I'm now the pretty girl on the side of the road with the shitty car.
Brave as I am I start the car up again (twice mind you) and head toward base as I'm almost there. Please, God, let me make it.
It then dawns on me that Mom mentioned something about getting bad gas in the station wagon from AAFES. ARGH!
The car is still puttering, but it does like a big fart sound and then it seems to be going smoothly. I get right past the gate guard on base. And the piece of shit stalls again. I'm so embarrassed. People are staring at me.
But I crank it up again, and make it safely to my office, pissed that I have to make coffee.
It better be a good weekend.