I Know You Were Wondering About All This so: 20 Things about Moi.

1. I like the smell of odd things: gasoline, shoes stores, the mall, etc.
2. Confrontation makes me very anxious.
3. I read in the bath tub and while I eat (not at the table though, only when at work or if I get to eat on the couch which brings me to number 4).
4. I love eating on the couch.
5. I love to go out to eat.
6. Ok, I just love to eat.
7. I will never turn down a cookie. I don't think it's humanly possible for me.
8.I love to have my nails painted. I feel fancy and can't stop looking at them.
9. I hate my skin.
10. I hate liars, people who are passive-aggressive and people who stand too close to me in lines.
11. I used to hate coffee and now do not know how I ever lived without it.
12. I also do not know how I lived without my tongue scraper for after I brush my teeth. If you don't have one, I suggest, no I demand, you go to Target NOW.
13. I want to make out with the man or woman who came up with epidurals during labor.
14. I love the soap opera, ahem, Daytime Drama General Hospital.
15. I will whoop your ass at Wii bowling.
16. I am highly insecure and care way too much about what other people think.
17. I am a fabulous dancer. Especially while drinking.
18. Speaking of drinking, I am a light-weight-can't-hold-my liquor-for-shit-girl. Plus? I am cheap date!
19. I love my family and friends fiercely. I may hate confrontation but if you fuck with them...just don't.
20. If I could stand blood and all that other icky stuff and was good at math and science, I'd be a labor and delivery nurse.
21. I am deathly afraid of the Ferris Wheel.
22. I get carsick.
23. I can't stand touching cotton. It makes my teeth itch.
24. I loved being pregnant.
25. I married the best guy in the whole world and we have been together since I was 15. It will be 12 years in November. Holy shit.

Stupid Brain!

Is it just me or am I the only one who can never seem to think of things to blog about unless it's 2 o'clock in the morning? One second I am asleep and the next second, I'm thinking about shit, which leads to other shit and then I'm writing my blog in my head.

(Side Note: I am so random. I am known to be thinking of something and just start talking mid-thought to the frustration and amusement of my husband. My line of thinking is very long and it can often take awhile to explain how/why my thoughts came about. Ooooo, that could be a blog post!).

I cannot tell you how many funny/brilliant/thoughtful (in my humble opinion, seeing as how I'm like, the only person who reads this thing) posts I have thought up and pretty much mentally wrote in the middle of the freaking night. But when I get up? Gone. So gone that I can't even remember the topic I was thinking of to write about. It drives me cra-zay.

I like blogging. I like writing in general. It's a great outlet. Except when you can't remember what you wanted to get out. Then you sit and stare at the computer while your ass goes numb and somehow you just ate the whole box of pop tarts. And still, no words get typed.

So lucky you, if there is a you, you got to read this poor excuse for a post because it's all I've got.

You're welcome.

The Top 5 Things I Like to do Since I Became "Mom."

1. Drive in the car alone. In complete silence.
2. Sit at home on the couch alone. In complete silence.
3. Go to the bathroom alone. In complete silence.
4. Do my hair, make-up and/or brush my teeth alone. In complete silence.
5. Go to Target alone. In complete silence.

I'm sensing a theme here, no?

It's amazing how going pee all by myself without someone trying to wipe my "tutu" can make me so damn happy.


Note: I LOVE my kid and LOVE spending time with her. Mama needs her time too. I'm just sayin.

The Big "D" and Me.

Depression. My depression. I'm sitting here staring at those words, contemplating deleting them and writing a new post about...about...I have no idea but writing about anything but that sounds way less stressful and shameful.

Yes, I feel ashamed. That's something I struggle with a lot. That's the biggest reason why it took me so damn long to reach out and get myself the help I so desperately needed. I constantly asked and criticized myself with: What on earth did you have to be depressed about? You have a great husband who is your partner in every sense of the word, a crazy, yet oh so awesome daughter, a house, food, a car, good health, great family and super friends. And still, every day I was feeling like I was treading water and every day, it was more of a struggle to keep myself afloat.

There was not and is not an exact reason for my depression. Not everyone can pinpoint why they feel the way they do. And nobody and I mean, NOBODY, wants these feelings. The feelings that they aren't good enough, that they are worthless and nobody likes them because who would? The guilt of being a bad wife, mother, friend, or other family member. Shutting yourself off, pulling away from those you love you and want to help because you just can't bear to talk to anyone. It's a vicious cycle and I let it go on for way too long.

Going to see my doctor and getting on Pristiq was one of the best things I could have done for myself. And I had to do it for myself, for my family too, but most importantly for me. I had to help myself. It took two weeks and my symptoms were fading. Telling my family and friends the truth instead of the usual "I'm fine" when they asked me what was wrong was another good thing. Making the decision that I was not going to live like that any more, knowing that I had nothing to be ashamed about and that taking care of me was not a selfish thing has made the past few months so much better and the weight on my shoulders so much lighter.

I still have my bad days. But who doesn't? What I don't have anymore, are days when I do not want to get out of bed. Days when I want to run away because I think that everyone would be better off without me around. Days when I want to hide from the world. Days when I felt so alone.

I now know that I am not the only one to have these feelings. I am not alone. I am not a bad person. And if anyone reading this has had similar feelings or the exact same feelings, you are not alone. Do what you have to do to get better. You will not regret it.

Old people are up way too mother fuckin early...so was I

What the fuck was I thinking this morning? I jumped outta bed at 4:59 A.M. to go to the GYM before work.

Seriously, I thought I would be like, the only person at the gym this morning because it was really, really early and who else but me is an evil genius to be at the gym before any else? I'll tell you who: OLD PEOPLE. And they were all in my way.

Clearly the patience motherhood was supposed to gift me hasn't come into fruition yet because I had visions of pushing old people out of the way, down stairs and what not as I tried to make my way upstairs to the cardio equipment so I could get this damn workout over and done with before I got lazy and decided to go McDonald's and get an egg mcmuffin instead. It was a close call.

Anyways. I chugged my way dutifully through an hour of cardio and only thought I was going to die or throw up three times. Yay me! It's been a few weeks since I exercised but it felt like a few months. All that sitting on my ass and enjoying candy and pizza really didn't help me as much as I thought it would. But it sure was delicious. And relaxing. And now some of my clothes don't fit.

How does that happen so fast? I was going to the damn gym for 2 months, 3-4 times a week and eating pretty good; no weight lost. I wasn't trying to lose weight, just tone up but I'm not gonna lie, a few vanity pounds dropped would've been super nice and confidence boosting. I stop going to the gym and eat bad, well not bad, just not as well as I had been eating and I gain weight.

Back to the grind and back to normal work out times. Like 4pm when all the senior citizens are at Long John Silvers for dinner.

People let me tell you about my best friend(s).

I have the best friends. Wait. You think that YOU have the best friends? Nope. Sorry. That title belongs to my friends and my friends alone.

These bitches (a term of endearment for those of you not in the know) are more than just friends. More than just besties. These girls are my sisters-from-other-misters. I know that I can count on them for anything. We laugh together, we cry together, we go crazy (both the good and the bad ways) together, we are just together. Knowing that I have women (oh god, we are women aren't we?) like them in my life makes the hard times less hard and the fun times even more fun.

They are fiercely loyal and hilariously funny. They are freaking gorgeous and so very smart. They are loud, crazy, outspoken and insanely generous. They don't do drama and the bullshit games. They are honest and I swear it seems, fearless. They are some of the best people I have ever known. And they are mine.

There aren't enough words in the english language or any other language for that matter, to describe the love I have for them. They have helped me hold my shit together more times than I can count. Loving me and never judging me.

It's harder these days to get together as much as we'd like. Life has a way of getting in the way. But they are always in my thoughts and in my heart.

Without them...I don't even want to think about it.

I'm a lucky, lucky, girl...ok, woman.

Miss Boo and the Terrible Two's.

Little girls. There isn't anything sweeter...or insane. I love my daughter more then life itself. Period. There isn't a but coming with that sentence. That said, my daughter also has the ability to make me want to stab myself in the neck with whatever is closest (barbie shoe, plastic vegetables, oooo a marker! etc).

She has the inate ability to change emotions at the drop of a hat. Cracked-out Britney Spears ain't got nothin on my kid. One second everything is peachy keen and the next there is t-rex like shrieking, body bucking, and oh-my-god who is killing that child pandimonium. All because I won't draw her a purple flower right that moment or she can't get her shoe off (or on) or we have to leave a friend's house. I, like an idiot, try to reason with the crazy person in midst of the tantrum. It doesn't work. Then I yell. It doesn't work. Nothing seems to work and at times, I feel like the worst parent ever.

She's 2 and half. She has a vocabulary like you wouldn't believe and is very smart (if I do say so myself) but I have to remember that emotionally she is 2 and half. This is what they do. Patience is the name of the game and sometimes it is in short supply.

She is my sunshine though. A person who has my heart in her hands always and can make me smile with all the funny things she says and does. The "I love you mamas" and the snuggles and kisses just because. She lights up when I walk into the room and throws her arms around me while yelling how much she missed me. It's indescribable to put into words how good that makes you feel.

Being a parent is hard. Being a parent to a toddler is hard. But it is worth it. Even if I am getting many lines and gray hairs in the process.

She's crazy and she's all mine. And I am thankful.

P.S. Someone told me that age 3 is WORSE THEN AGE 2. Where is that marker?!