america's financial meltdown

okay, obviously I am not saying this is the cause of the meltdown, but it is definitely a symptom. Annabelle got 6, repeat 6, Easter baskets from people in her life who love her. Yes, I was one of them, but I am her mother. Of course, it is wonderful that there are 5 people other than her father and I who love her and think of her, and want to give her a little Easter sessy, and I am very grateful to have these kind and loving people in her life, but man, kids get so much stuff nowadays because it is so cheap. However it is all made in China. And the worst part of all is that I now have to find a place for all of it.

The first picture is of Annabelle and Pumpkin. Don't you think she needs a cat more than all of these bunnies she got??

friend count = 9

Since I have been home I have made 9 new friends. Not BFF, but people whose company I legitimately enjoy and would want to hang out with later and whose names I remember. That's my criteria for counting someone as a friend rather than an acquaintance: good company, hang out with later, and names. Most of them I met while in the park , one in the cry-room at church (she connected me with the park contingent) one at story time and 4 while one a walk. The ladies I met on my walk are hilarious and hang out in their front yards every night drinking wine and watching their kids and dogs play while gossiping and talking about "The Biggest Loser." I was wearing a "Kiss My Grits" t-shirt and one of them called out to me "Where'd ya get that shirt? and proceeded to tell me about a friend who dressed up like Flo for Halloween.

A lot of times when I meet people, I instantly don't like them, and that's why I know when I like someone, that I really like them. However, I have to confess that I consider my initial dislike for people to be a major character flaw. So I am surprised and thrilled that I like all of these people. I am embracing them with a Birkelbach -like optimism. Me, the one who once said I had enough people in my life and didn't need any more.

So we will see if this continues. If I can continue to be friendly and open or will I retreat into my house and never leave?

However I will say, that I really don't like the fat lady at the park who gives her one year old cheeto-puffs as a snack. I can totally do without her.

mom and the internet

Details, as in, paying attention to, and my mom have never really mixed. She goes to the grocery store to buy shampoo and comes back with conditioner, and she won't know that she has conditioner until she washes her hair with it. She and my dad once booked a trip to New York for my cousin's wedding with non-refundable tickets only to find out she had the weekend confused. She is also the same woman who went to her best friend's father's funeral and was there for 30 minutes talking to family and consoling the bereaved before she ran into her friend in the bathroom and realized she was in the wrong part of the funeral parlor.

So I told her about my blog. And I told her the address. Stella-at-home.blogspot.com She wrote it down. Except she wrote down blog-spot.com. And after she checked what she thought was my blog she called me and had this to say (imagine my mom as having a slight Mexican accent that she gets when she is riled up about something):

Mom: "Is this a joke? I mean this joke right?"

Me: "No, why?"

Mom: "Do you think I need to masturbate myself, I mean this is a joke right? Because I went to the site and it was about how I should masturbate and music to masturbate by. And there were all these erect penises, I mean are you joking me? It says "tickle your ears while you tickle your....""

This is all I heard. I was laughing so hard I could not hear anything more and tears were coming out of my eyes, so I couldn't see anything and I was one kegel away from peeing on the sofa.

On the Annabelle front, today is brought to by the word wado. As in waaaaddooo, waaaaadoooo, waaaadoooo. To quote my friend Corey about his daughter's bobby period, "we may never know who bobby is, and that's okay because he made her happy."

Monday story- time

Mondays at work usually mean a jury trial. Which means you get to work early, print out some signs for the prospective jurors to look at and do some last minute stuff before you rush to court. Then you get to court and that is when you figure out what case you are going to try, because invariably the case you spent the previous week preparing for has settled or the defense attorney has the flu, or your officer can't be there or some other such nonsense. So then you scramble to get witnesses lined up, call off the other witnesses for the cancelled case, do some other pleas on other cases that were set, and then finally you pick your jury. Then you figure out in your allotted 30 minutes which people out of sixty hate you because they don't like your suit, your accent, your point of view. Then a quick break for lunch and then trial starts. Mondays at work can be exhausting.

This is Monday, and today I took Annabelle to the library for story-time. Now let me preface this--- I have never done this before because fun little activities like this are always during the day-- scheduling that proves that there is a vast and definitely right wing conspiracy against working moms. So I had no idea what to expect. I got there and met a nice mom and her daughter-- Annabelle promptly started eating her food. Then the other moms started filing in. I checked them out, they all looked pretty normal, mostly my age-ish, educated types. We all sat in chairs in a circle and the story-time lady, Sidney, told us it was time to start. I was wondering why no one was sitting down in the center for the story-- I soon found out. Sidney said "it's wheels on the bus time" and then all the normal, my age-ish, educated looking women started to sing "The wheels on the bus"-- oh yeah-- did I mention there were hand movements too? My first instinct was die a death of hysterical laughing at the sight of all these grown women singing this ridiculous song. Then I saw that Annabelle was into it. She was dancing and mimicking the movements and I also realized that I knew most of the words. So how did I learn these words? I am definitely not the type of mom who listens to kid music, because frankly it's all garbage and I don't think you foster music appreciation by having kids listen to bad music. So it must have been something I learned as a child, because for some reason, as a society we have decided that kids need to experience swish, swish, swish, etc., and as I realized this I decided not to be so judgy-- when in f***ing rome, sing wheels on the bus dammit.

All in all, it was actually pretty fun.

On the Hypen front, here is a snippet of the conversation I just had:

H: "You know what I think I should be? A professional golfer, what are your thoughts on that?"

Me: "Do you know how to play golf?"

H: "No, but I could learn."

day 3

Oh my heavens, I am so tired. Okay, so I am wondering June and the Beave, they only showed it when he was like 8, not when he was 13 months old. I seriously doubt if June would have looked so nice if she was chasing around the Beave when he opened her cabinents and pulled everything out (just finished putting it all back in). Which got me to thinking, what on earth did people do in the 1800s with 13 month olds? What did the kids play with when pa was in the fields and ma was blackening the ben franklin stove? Sure, there were probably 8 other brothers and sisters, and it was probably the job of the 2 year old to keep track of the 13 month old, but what did Ma do with the very first one when she was boiling the laundry? I see why the day of rest was strictly enforced, you really needed it! Well to some research maybe I will check out a Little House book when I go to the library on Monday for story time -- yes that's right-- I made a friend who told me all the neighborhood activities, so I am v. excited. And then today at the park I made another friend, who is totally cool. She has a son who is even busier than Annabelle, if you can believe it.

Day 2

A word about my husband. He is the type of person who wonders if there is a hyphen in anal retentive. He once got after me because I put a lid of a pot on the counter and it left some steam on the counter. He also thinks that he can feel a fine layer of dust on his body after he has been outside. Over the years, I have spent a lot of time trying to figure him out, only to realize that I can't and it really doesn't matter. That's what sells fords, as my dad would say. anyway, one of the selling points for my staying at home was that the house would be cleaner (of course, I think our house is already clean). I realized today that this might be harder than it looks. Annabelle goes from room to room and leaves of path of destruction in her wake. I am also concerned about gaining 100 pounds. There are snacks at home. Things that I didn't keep at work on a regular basis, like ruffles. I also have to keep an eye on food costs, because I have already been to the grocery store 2 times. Incidently, if you need lettuce, this is a good week to go to kroger, it's .77 cents a head.

I made chicken tacos for dinner and they got a good review from Hyphen, of course, he is an awesome cook, working for a resturaunt he ought to be, but I wonder how long before he gets tired of my cooking.

here is a picture of annabelle kissing the phone, her ba-noi was on the other line, and she instanly kissed the phone. This is a new skill, and she is pretty good at it.

Day 1

Day one, thus far has been successful. Well, mostly. I did give the baby some spoiled milk, but I had just bought it yesterday, so totally not my fault. Incidently, spoiled milk tastes real bad, avoid it at all costs. I also made eggs (with said spoiled milk) and while I was cooking them, I kepy smelling this nasty fish smell. I thought it was the stove, and that maybe Hieu hadn't cleaned it properly, but then I thought, "wait, it's Hieu, how's that possible," so I smelled the baby's diaper and myself to rule out and problems that could be cured by Pampers or Summer's Eve. Anywho- turns out egss made with spoiled milk are also gross and smell like, well, something "not so fresh." I discovered all of these issues at the breakfast table when I poured myself a glass. Then we went outside and Annabelle ate some dirt and put a pebble in her mouth. Now she is napping and I am beat, but I have to clean up the path of destruction she has created in the house. This stay at home mom bit might be harder than it looks.

Some people ask themselves, "What would Johnny Holmes do?" I ask myself "what would June Cleaver do?"

If I had been at work today I would have had a docket and would be exhausted right now. And I would have missed her grabbing a kleenex and putting it to her nose, blowing it and looking at me with this impish grin to see if i saw her.