mmmmmmm

This morning, as I filled my water bottle in the kitchen, I heard the sound of typing coming from the living room. Violet, in an attempt to imitate me, was playing with the keyboard. She was at the computer desk for less than 30 seconds, and since nothing appeared to be missing from the desktop, I assumed that she hadn’t done anything to our files.

This afternoon, as I sat down to pay bills, I noticed that my folder for household affairs was missing from the desktop. Panicked, I took a closer look at all the folders, and noticed a new one entitled “mmmmmmm.” I opened the folder, and all the household information was contained within. I’m just thanking my stars that Violet simply renamed the folder instead of deleting it, because (naturally) I haven’t backed it up in a few weeks.

Guess it’s time to start locking the computer down when I’m not sitting at it…

If I May

I’m a tad overwhelmed this morning, as we rearranged our bedroom this weekend, but didn’t fully complete the task. This is mostly because upon attempting to rearrange items on the shelf in our bedroom closet, we noticed that said shelf was about to come out of the wall. The maintenance man came by to remount and repair it yesterday: naturally, there wasn’t a new board large enough to replace the warped one. But, since we’re moving in just a few months, I suppose the split, caulked-up version will have to do. The maintenance man informed us that many shelves in the other housing units have already fallen out (I love it when they reassure us with such useful information). The items and containers that were on the shelf are sitting in the middle of the garage, and I need to clear them out before the snow (100% chance of heavy snow, no less) begins to fall tomorrow evening, so we have a storm-free place to park the van. Indeed, it seems we will have a frigid first day of May...

To Five Years

Tomorrow marks my fifth anniversary of being a ball and chain. I haven’t yet convinced my husband to watch our wedding video: maybe I’ll have a formal party and air it on a big screen when we reach ten years (insert maniacal laugh here). Here are just a few pictures of that long-ago day in Vegas…

Dress Up

The natural disaster alarm went off on base this morning. The follow-up announcement indicated that a tornado warning was in effect. The second such announcement began and ended with the words, “Exercise, exercise, exercise,” thus indicating that the warning was, in fact, fake (thanks for mentioning that the first time, fellas). Anyhow, in the time between the first and second announcements, I closed the storm windows and took Violet downstairs. We then got the scarves and hats out of the closet…

Opening Doors?

I’ve had far less opportunity to write lately. This is partly due to the fact that my daughter recently conquered the doorknob concept, thus making child care a more interesting experience. All the items tucked safely away in closets suddenly became accessible. I made a trip to the mall yesterday and found doorknob covers: so far (fingers crossed), they are working. There have also been other impediments to any kind of mommy-time. Since we recently took down our large child gate, Violet now randomly runs downstairs and hides from me. Occasionally, she is content to read books or watch a few minutes of a television program: otherwise, chaos reigns.

Speaking of chaos, we are also beginning our preparations for the impending move. We do not yet have an assigned base for when Jerry returns from his overseas tour, so much of our packing and shipping will have to be done after he receives those orders. In the meantime, I need to purge this entire house of anything we don’t absolutely need. I’m starting with our file box, since I’m a paranoid soul and don’t want our personal documents hanging out in storage (potentially, thousands of miles away) for a year. So I suppose I need to consolidate our files into a single, small storage box, and take those with us. I’m not looking forward to the tedious process of sorting and shredding.

Even now, as I write, Violet is under the computer desk, examining the dangling cords and deciding which one to yank first. I am beyond stressed out, and fighting the temptation to put the gate back up…

For the Glow Worm Omnipotent Reigneth

My child finally decided that it was time to pass out.

I instigated the nap process at 1:10 PM. Since I took her to the park this morning, fed her lunch, and then gave her a bath, I assumed her obviously exhausted self would not object. After brushing her hair and letting it dry for a while, I placed her in the crib and proceeded to read her five bedtime stories. We then sang along with her glow worm, which has become a customary part of the calming process since she decided to climb out of her crib last week. I am terrified that she will try it again, so I sing to her for a little while. She is usually content to let me leave after “Rock a Bye Baby,” and she promptly falls asleep.

Not so, today. I could hear Violet talking to herself as I spoke with a friend on the phone. After several minutes of overhearing her baby jabber, I decided I should check on her. She had been playing with her feet: upon seeing me, she sprang up and immediately put a leg up on the crib rail, ready to climb out. I, instead, lifted her out. She ran upstairs, insisting that we watch Superman. I complied, and gave her some milk in the hopes that a fuller tummy might make her drowsy.

Now, several books, many admonitions not to climb out of her crib, an empty threat of spanking, a baby back rub, and many (many) songs later, I am sitting here utterly exhausted. Even after I left the room, I could hear her calling me. “Momma, come here. Momma, come HERE.” Of course, when she says it, the plea is pronounced with an accent reminiscent of New England: “Mommuh, come eee—yah. Mommuh, come eee—yah.”

Hard to resist such adorable heckling. But I’m very glad I did, because she is FINALLY ASLEEP.

Halle-freaking-lujah.

Free Range

You could say I’m in a bit of a mood today. Violet woke up at about 6:30 again, which would have been fine if my own sleep schedule had worked out as planned. We were all trying to go to sleep at about 10:30, when I heard Violet’s glow worm go off. I jumped out of bed to retrieve it: she had rolled over right on top of it, but was still asleep. When I got back into bed, I could not go to sleep for the life of me. The last time I remember looking at the clock, it was 11:54. I woke up at 2:58, and couldn’t get back to sleep until about 4:30. So, all in all, I got about five hours sleep. I’ve survived on less, but I’m still grumpy.

My husband had a late night teaching a class, so he slept in for a bit after Violet and I got up. I would have been jealous, but in all likelihood, I would not have been able to fall back to sleep if given the option. So I got up, fed my kid, and then fed the cats. To protect her identity, I will refer to the cat who threw up yesterday night and this morning as “Evil Furball #2.” Last night, she chose locations to ensure that our bedroom would stink like wet-fishy-cat-food puke for the next week. This morning, she threw up next to and on the gate that blocks Violet from getting to the computer.

Resisting the urge to drop-kick Evil Furball #2, I got the Nature’s Miracle (awesome stuff) and a cleaning towel out. Unfortunately, I had to wait for hubby to trudge up the stairs and dissemble the gate so I could adequately clean the floor. We then made the (perhaps unwise) decision to just take the gate down. Violet needs to learn the meaning of the word no, I asserted. I spent the next thirty minutes childproofing the desk area, and then let Violet come back upstairs.

I’m surprised to say that Violet’s doing quite well with her newfound freedom thus far. I’m still worried about the paper shredder, which the OCD part of me wants to put in the garage. My husband says we should just leave it in the off position, but I know that I would probably forget to do so on occasion. She’s also pretty good at figuring out how to turn things on, so…yeah. Hmph. Maybe I’ll just unplug it for now.

Jerry brought home a Sesame Street pre-deployment DVD last night. I don’t think I should watch it with Violet this morning, because I’m too tired and emotional. I don’t want her to see me cry…even if I look a little sad lately, she comes up to me, pats my hair, and says, “Don’t cry, Momma.” Even writing that is enough to make me cry.

Must get sleep. Brain and heart might work better.

Speaking of which, I’m about to fall asleep just sitting here so perhaps it’s time for MORE COFFEE.

Dream On

Langston Hughes famously pondered: “What happens to a dream deferred?” Naturally, this inquiry by Hughes had broad social ramifications regarding his contemporary environment. I don’t mean to degrade its meaning by attempting to apply it to my odd and comparatively insignificant life. Yet, my question, this morning, is this: what happens to a dream, modified? Does it seethe at former dreams in resentment? Does is sit idly on a shelf for fear its author will be chastised as a bad housekeeper yet again? Does it get swept under a rug by said housekeeper, or is it planted and allowed to blossom despite the inevitable conflict it will create? Does it wither and hide every time an unsupportive soul walks by? The answer, thus far, appears to be all of these.

I Love SD in the Springtime

Violet and I made the long (eight door) trek over to our friend’s house this morning. Our purpose was to feed the little kitten Emma, since her parents are away for formal wedding preparations and celebrations. The journey of less than half a block is not normally so arduous: but this morning, icy snow whipped at our faces. I could hardly see, and Violet kept saying “Ow, ow, ow.” I picked her up and shielded her face against my coat, and looked down, because looking up was not a viable option. We made it to the house, and Emma was quite happy to see us. The trip back was a little better, since the wind was to our backs.

Now, safe and warm in our house, I’m looking at the forecast. It seems we can expect precipitation throughout the day with a possibility of 49 mph wind gusts. Joy. I think I’ll wait to check on Emma again until Jerry gets home, so Violet doesn’t have to endure this lovely weather again. Or maybe I’ll be a real puss and drive over there (sadly, I think I could actually see where I was going that way). How I wish I could take Violet to the park. Normally, I hate warmer weather and its associated allergens, but my poor kid (who is currently spitting on her glove and trying to clean the T.V. with it) really needs to get out.

Apocalypse: Now?

I am currently two loads away from being caught up on the laundry. If brimstone starts raining from an open wound in the sky, I'll keep you posted. Right now, the forecast is only calling for more snow...

Exasperation

So I decided to give it one more shot, even though I've felt rather ostracized in a certain situation. And I've found that some people are simply not worth my time. I wish I was catty enough to truly be hurt by what just happened, but instead, I'm taking the intellectually superior road. Instead, I'm laughing at the absurdity of their poorly constructed dramas, and their apparent self-righteousness and contempt for those they have chosen to exclude. Instead, I'm reflecting on the insight their actions have given me, and I must thank them. They have given me excellent models on which to base characters in my fictitious works, because there are too many in this world who are equally low, petty, and downright stupid. I might be a b****, but at least I'm a smart one, and one who (strangely) deeply considers the feelings of others...