Early, early this morning was our first experience with the Peanut getting sick. To the tune of projectile vomiting all over my mom. Thankfully my parents were here, because oy, it a) was disgusting and b) required all hands on deck. After a bath, he was back in his crib – but refusing to sleep until almost 3AM. Which meant none of us went to sleep until then… and then he was up at 7 with me and didn’t nap until past 10. Of course at that point he slept for four hours and we had to wake him up so he’d go to bed tonight.

So glad my parents were here, lol.

I am IN LOVE with this idea and her execution. I could easily spend all the money I make on handmade items – they are some of my favorite things to decorate with and my absolute favorite thing to gift. Sadly I was not blessed with any true textile artistic ability (my handwriting, for one, is awful), but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate those who were.

These four have been my favorites so far.

365 Days of Hand Lettering by Lisa Congdon

For a couple of months now, every time my laptop would get unplugged, it would shut down. No warning, no flashing message, just click and off. It drove me crazy, but we’ve been so busy that I just always kept it plugged in and only lost a little work when inevitably the cat, dog or baby would accidentally pull out the cord.

I took it in to an Apple store today and had the genius in stitches. Apparently your battery is only good for 500-600 power cycles and mine was showing over 1100 cycles. “Wasn’t this driving you crazy,” she asked, chuckling. “Yeah,” I said, “but you know, I’m almost never not near an outlet.”

After Apple, we went shopping at a few more places with my parents. My Dad is stocking up on essentials and clothes for the cold weather. To the tune of two extremely full carts at Costco. Oy veh.

I think I hate Facebook.

I’ve realized that I actually don’t want to know what’s happening in the lives of people I haven’t seen or hung out with since high school. HIGH SCHOOL. The place I graduated from 11 (omg) years ago.

Things I don’t want to know:

• That your husband is addicted to porn and after trying to work it out, you are divorcing. Maybe you should’ve dated longer than a year before you got married? Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten knocked up RIGHT BEFORE you got married? Especially since both of you had another kid each from previous relationships? And you both claim to be religious? I dunno. I don’t judge.
• That you voraciously support that douchebag pastor Mark Driscoll and think he knows everything. Seriously. This guy is an idiotic asshole. Why do you think he knows everything?!
• That you practice NFP (Natural Family Planning) and that you think it’s the BEST birth control and that this is something you wrote: “It’s knowing your body and communicating as a couple, respecting each other, and willful self control when necessary. It’s that and so much more.” I don’t need to know that about you. EVER.
• That you knocked up your wife on your anniversary – and you know that for a FACT. No, ew, over share.
• That you are pregnant, but still going to clubs. Regularly. And staying out until the wee hours. Why? Aren’t you tired? Also, why do I care?
• That you are pregnant AGAIN. For the 4th, 5th, 6th time. And your “quiver” is full. Or maybe not. Whatever God wants. Really? Are you perfectly willing to just pop out babies forever? Why are condoms and birth control bad again?

Maybe I just hate being “friends” with the people I never really knew in the first place. Or the people whose lives have diverged so much from my own that reading about what they do now is irritating.

The house ghosts have struck again – 20 minutes ago we heard a loud crack and pop from the nursery. Down goes another window and up goes our blood pressure. Amazingly the Peanut slept through it.

I really do think our house is possessed.

I posted a funny video of the Peanut on FB, and once the Chop’s Mom saw, she wanted to pass it around to her friends. So I opened it up to the public and also sent a link to my parents (they aren’t on FB and only view things on my account occasionally). Earlier today I received three emails from my Dad’s sister, who I do not keep in contact with (she’s batshit CRAZY). One was through my business site (weird) and two were through FB. She wants to be friends on FB because my Dad sent her that video and she just thinks he’s so cute and she wants to comment and blah blah.

Sigh. My Dad drives me freaking insane. Most of his family are religious nuts and I have absolutely no interest or inclination to be “friends” with them.

My parents arrive in two days and I haven’t even started to clean my house. Our three season porch/guest room is strewn with baby toys, the bed is covered in books, and I’m quite sure there are a fair number of dead bugs outside the porch door. The kitchen is not too bad, but I haven’t vacuumed in awhile (three weeks maybe?) and our bedroom is not something I like to think about.

I have a site due on April 1, plus another one that is technically also due on April 1 (but everyone else was late getting me what I needed, so yeah, April 1 is a pipe dream), which means I’m working until 2AM almost every day.

A clean house is so far down on my list of priorities, half the time I forget it’s something I’m supposed to do.

Yesterday the Peanut and I joined some friends at a local park/playground/petting zoo – an awesome place less than 20 minutes from us that’s free, not well known and perfect for little kids. I love finding places like this around us, places that aren’t overflowing with people, places where the kids can walk around, where we aren’t worried they’ll get hit by a car.

The Peanut fell in love with the giant sand box (a huge pool area with deck chairs and shade and numerous toys and three separate sand-filled areas), but he also loved the petting zoo. This kid and animals = love.

I read The Girl with a Dragon Tattoo when I was pregnant with the Peanut and sobbed while finishing it at four in the morning, waking up the Chop to tell him how absolutely devastating it was. After he was born, I read the last two books – neither of which was as disturbing as the first – but I still found them tough to read. Apparently being a mother has made it much harder for me to read the tough stuff – let alone watch it.

Once I heard the gist of the Hunger Games trilogy, I purposefully avoided reading it. Children killing children for sport = crushing, overwhelming sadness.

A friend talked me into going to see the first movie tonight and it was as devastating as expected. Especially for three mothers (one of whom is pregnant again) with young children.