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.

The Peanut decided to cap off his bruised head (ugh, it goes down his nose and slightly affects his eye area) with a split lip, which he got by walking into some bars at the playground. Ugh.

Because we work at home and most nights are spent here due to our inability to find a babysitter (sigh), a lot of the time I feel like we live in a vacuum. We read the news, listen to NPR and watch the Daily Show and Colbert (hello funniest thing on TV), but I still wonder what we miss by not going into an office or taking very many in-person meetings. We’re no longer forced to look work-presentable every day, so if we don’t have any plans, we usually end up in PJs all morning and take showers after lunch. When we do leave, it’s usually a mad scramble to not be late, as we’ve become so accustomed to our own time that having a set time to meet other people is a challenge.

I often wonder what will happen when the Peanut starts going to school. My parents worked all the time, so while there were some days my mom drove us to school in a robe, she never picked us up in anything less than full work gear – makeup, heels, jewelry, perfume (she smells lovely), etc. She always seemed quite glamorous, to us and to our friends. There’s still a guy from my class who asks me about her whenever I see him – he used to flirt with her when we were in high school and she thought it was adorable, lol.

Neither the Chop nor I will end up picking the Peanut up from school in heels, but I do have a goal to never pick him up in sweatpants or a bathrobe. We’ll see how that goal pans out.

The Peanut is currently sporting a massive bruise in the middle of his forehead. The bump is large, but the bruise is what’ll stick for awhile. He was playing in the curtains, the Chop and I laughing and Skyping his mom, and boom, with curtain wrapped around him, he ran straight into the wooden window ledge. The sobbing was immediate, as was the now-dubbed unicorn horn.

I realize that this will happen regularly for the rest of our lives – but man, I wish it wouldn’t, lol.