You are Not Funny.

SB and I did a little shopping at Michael's yesterday.  We bought fingerpaints and some canvases.  I will regret this purchase when I'm scrubbing orange paint off of our white dog in a few weeks, I'm sure.  But it seemed like a good idea at the time.  We also bought a big bucket and shovel so she won't have to steal other kids' toys at the park sandbox.  Fun stuff.
Anyway, we stopped at Brueggers for a quick lunch and all was going quite well. SB was munching away on her egg and cheese bagel and I was happily eating my Herby Turkey when it happened.  The very large (read: 300+ lb) guy who works at the bagel place comes around the corner  VERY LOUDLY saying "HI LITTLE GIRL ARE YOU ENJOYING YOUR LUNCH?"  and comes at her like he's going to steal her sandwich.  Really, dude?  REALLY?  Do you think my little girl thinks that's funny?  Um, no, as evident by the way she threw the remainder of her lunch on the floor, stuck out her lower lip and proceeded to bawl like she was heading to the pediatrician's office.  The guy looked at me sheepishly,  said "sorry, ma'am" and scurried away while the other employees ridiculed him for making a little girl cry.  I know, I know, the guy meant well, but I am so sick of people doing this to her.  She's not a skittish kid, but for the love of God, Bagel dude, you startled me,  imagine what a 3 foot tall person would think of you.
Let this be a lesson to all strange men (and some strange women.)  That means you, if you do not know the kid you're about to accost.  You are a scary stranger.  If you must acknowledge the cuteness of my baby girl in some way, a smile or a little wave will do.  Speak softly.  Please do not scare the bejeezus out of my daughter in an attempt to be funny.  Not only did she lose out on half her lunch, but her Mommy had to get on the floor of the icky bagel store and pick up the mess.  And it was hard to identify which mess was ours and which belonged to a previous customer.  Gross.  Perhaps if Mr. Funny Bagel Man did his job more and scared little girls less the floors wouldn't be so dirty?

Thanks Friends

Thanks all for your support and well wishes with the whole RA fiasco.  It's good to have friends near and far.  I don't know what I've done exactly to piss off my body enough that it's betraying me, but I'm going to figure it out so we'll be playing on the same team again.  Research has begun.  I am going to resurrect my "anal project manager personality" and logically figure out the best plan of action.  Gantt chart will be forthcoming.

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

Yikes, 11 days since last post.  Clearly  I’ve slacked off for a little while with the blog.  My house, on the other hand, is looking much cleaner and I got a bunch of updates done on my website.  Everything’s a tradeoff, I guess.

Lots going on this past week.  SB left her first drops of blood on the pavement at Freedom Park.  Kurt and I celebrated three years of wedded bliss.  We all (and I mean “all” as in the whole population of Mecklenburg County)  celebrated another festive St. Patrick’s Day with a crazy long parade in Charlotte and a crazy crowded festival.  Oh, and I got diagnosed with a potentially debilitating disease.  So the week had its ups and downs, I guess you could say. 

Let’s start with the good news.  3 years!  On our wedding day, we had 5 bottles of wine, dated for each of the subsequent 5 years, for our guests to sign.  Each year on our Anniversary, we open up the year’s bottle and toast to our marital success.  Cheers to us! We celebrated at Fiamma (duh, of course) and had a wonderful meal, just the three of us.  Yes, SB joined us for our anniversary dinner.  She loves the pesto there so how could we leave her at home? 

Also in the “good” column:  St Patrick’s Day.  Holy cow was the weather perfect on Saturday.  My parents came down for the celebration and were duly impressed by the 100+  minutes of Irish entertainment that marched down Tryon Street.  Ok, so the Irish origins of certain participants may have been questionable.  Like the African-American Cowboys, for example.  Or the Charlotte Roller Girls.  But they were so cool I don’t think St. Patrick would mind.  There were legitimate Catholic school floats with kids, snakes, and St. Pat himself blessing the crowd.  The Budweiser Clydesdales were there, complete with Dalmatian riding on the horse-drawn truck.  There were also scantily clad women in tiny kilts.  Giant Great Danes (hmmm…”Dane,” not Irish either) wearing green top hats and tutus.  Weird clowns riding unicycles.  Something for everyone at the Charlotte St Pat’s Day Parade.  SB had not been feeling well the day before, but she rallied for the parade, sporting her “Irish Princess” dress and green hair bow.  (I realize that this would be a great place to insert a picture of said outfit, but I am a bad photographer and didn’t bring my camera.  By the time we got home we were exhausted and Mommy discovered that SB had passed along her germs and I was out for the count for the rest of the weekend.  So that’s my long-winded excuse.)

So moving on to the bad news.  First catastrophe:  SB’s face meets concrete at Freedom Park.  I was in the middle of a photo shoot when I got a call from Kurt.  Then I got a second call.  I figured that was not good so I answered, and sure enough, Kurt had taken SB to the park and she took off running down a sloped walkway and hit the ground with her face.  She usually will catch herself but this time the ground beat her to it.  Poor thing had road rash on her face, a bloody nose, split lip, and she chipped her tooth a little bit.  Kurt said she cried for about 30 seconds and moved on.  No lasting scars a week later.  Kurt, however, is still recovering, and he is definitely scarred for life.

And the piece du resistance in the bad news column…

I know I’ve complained on the blog at least a few times about how lugging around a heavy baby is killing me.  I’ve had some joint swelling in a few fingers and some foot problems which I attributed to carrying huge baby and walking around on hardwoods in bare feet.  So this has been going on for about 6 months and I finally started seeing some doctors.  Today my rheumatologist informed me he was 99.99 percent sure that I had Rheumatoid Arthritis.  Great.  Just Great.  Isn’t that a disease that elderly ladies have that turns twists their hands into deformed knots?  Um, yeah that would be the one.  Seriously, I am probably still in denial about this even though the “RA” term has been kicking around my head since I first noticed the joint issues.  So the good news, if you can call it that, is that I caught it in the earliest stages and they can put me on meds to help with the symptoms and prevent permanent joint damage (aka the twisted old lady hands.)  But the bad news is they want to put me on medication for the rest of my life.  That does not sit well with me.  I’d have to be tested every 2 months to make sure the drugs aren’t wrecking my liver.  And I absolutely under no circumstances can get knocked up while on this medication or the baby would have like 3 heads or something.   Oh and it suppresses the immune system so I’d be more prone to infections.  Wow, this is sounding great, isn’t it?  So needless to say we’re not rushing over to the pharmacy to fill this prescription until I do a little more research on my options.  I’ve never ever had a real deal health problem before, so this whole thing of doctors and medications and tests is new to me.  The doctor I’m seeing currently is not the least bit into a more holistic approach to the disease.  I asked about diet and he basically shrugged his shoulders, so I am looking for someone who will not just write a prescription, but look at things like nutrition and exercise other natural ways to treat the patient, not just treat the disease.   Overall, not a great day, I’d say.  But when I got back from the doctor’s office my little girl was delighted to see me and play patty cake with her Mommy’s hands, regardless of what they look like, so I know I’ll be ok, I just need to find the right path for me to take.

Goose Playing Chicken Causes Mayhem

Today as we were leaving Little Otter Swim School we witnessed a car accident.  I was at a stop sign waiting to turn onto a busy 4 lane road, when I noticed two obnoxious geese (as if there is any other kind) walking along the grass by the road.  Of course they waddle off the curb right into the middle of both lanes.  This sassy red Pontiac convertible screeches to a halt and someone following too closely plows their Honda right into the back of it.  Goose walks off unscathed.  Apparently his work was done here.  Off to take a dump on the sidewalk, I suppose.  What they do best. 

First of all, if it were me barreling down the road at 50 MPH heading for a goose, I would most certainly have been picking goose feathers out of my grill rather than standing in the road arguing with the lady that just wailed into my car.  I confess that I also would have gotten some secret pleasure out of creaming one of those bastard fowls that use the world as their outhouse.  I am so sick of going to the park and having to maneuver myself and a stroller through a minefield of poop.  Forget about letting SB roam free - she's a collector, remember?  That's not something I'd want her to hoard in her little fists.  She'd end up with bird flu or e coli...I hate those feathery beasts.  They sneer at me as I walk around the lake, like, yeah I poop on your sidewalk, whaddayagonnadoaboutit?  Man, I'd love to drop-kick one of those sons of...well, I think I have properly conveyed my feelings towards Canadian Geese.  So imagine my shock that this guy in his sports car missed the opportunity to remove one of them from the planet. 

Go ahead, PETA, burn a goose down comforter on my front lawn for this post.  I don't care.  Spend twenty minutes picking goose poo out of your sneaker treads every time you go to the park and see whose side you're on then.

{Please note that no one, including those dang geese, were injured in this accident but it probably caused several thousand dollars worth of damage to both cars.  That's a lot of money for a stupid bird.}

Happy Birthday Mom!

Today is my Mom's birthday.

I'm one of those lucky people who has the best Mom ever.  She was the cookie baking, brownie troop leader who dyed my milk green on St Patrick's Day.  She was the morning serenading cheery "it's a great day" kind of mom who sang of sunshine and pretty buttercups (much to my dismay in my teenage years.)  She was the constant encourager, the Mom who told me I could do anything.  She was the Mom who bought me a piano at age 6 and signed me up for lessons.  She was also the Mom who let me quit soccer in first grade because I didn't like playing with "those rough boys."  I have wonderful memories of driving to the beach with my Mom, with the top down, singing along to the radio.  Going to Holmdel Park as a kid, Mom laughing as I rolled down the grassy hills or fed the ducks.  I never doubted for one moment how much my Mom loved me, and that nothing I did could diminish that love.

My mom has the biggest heart.  She is not only the best Mom, but a wonderful friend to everyone she meets.  She has a way of making a stranger feel like a close friend in a matter of minutes.  She loves meeting new people and exploring new places.  She loves to shop.  She loves to read.  She loves to laugh and share a glass of wine with friends.  She loves life.

And she loves her 3 grandchildren.  Loves.  I mean the crawl-through-broken-glass, strangle-someone-with-her-bare-hands-to-protect-them kind of love.  I am certain that Sarah Beth, for one, know this, as she lights up whenever Grandma is in the room.  I hope they will have many years of silliness, secrets, and sleepovers to look forward to together.

I hope more than anything that I will be the kind of mother to Sarah Beth that my Mom is to me.

I love you Mom.  I am so proud to be your daughter. 
Happy Birthday!

Sarah Beth, The Artiste.

A quick slideshow of some snapshots I took yesterday of SB coloring.  I'm about to drop some $$ on buying the pro version of Animoto because I think it'll be great for my business.  Plus it's so much fun!  I just need to pry my wallet out of my fingers and take the plunge...



Create your own video slideshow at animoto.com.

Baaaa Moooo Cockadoodledon't.

Why did I think this would be a good idea?

SB and I were at Bedford Falls toy store the other day where those sneaky bastards have big tables in the back with all these toys out for kids to play with.  SB made a beeline for this puzzle.  Well not this one exactly it was the trains, planes and automobiles version.  You put the puzzle piece in and it makes the sound.  Awesome.  She loved it.  She doesn't own a puzzle.  It was only $12.99.  She should have it, right? 

I pick out the farm animal one and take it home with us.  Big mistake.  First of all it doesn't come with batteries.  Grrr.  It requires 2 "AAA" batteries.  And the battery compartment is screwed on so Kurt has to find a phillips head screwdriver, not to mention 2 batteries, to get this thing rolling.  Well wouldn't you know it, the animal version sounds like a farm hit by mad cow disease living inside a tin can.  It is AW-FUL.  It does not have an OFF switch.  And the best part is, you don't have to get the puzzle pieces in the correct way to make noise. Oh no. You don't have to get them in at all.  You just pass the piece over it and it starts moo-ing or crowing or whatever.  Your hand works too.  Or nothing.  Apparently it's tripped by light, or lack of light.  So last night it was sitting on the piano with some pieces missing (lost under the couch already) and the dang thing starts baa-ing at us for no apparent reason.  Kurt and I look at each other like what the @#^$ is going on?  We already had a smoke detector malfunction that night and start talking to us, and we had just watched a scary movie so it was all a little too much.  Needless to say I think the Sound Puzzle is going to lose it's batteries pretty soon...