Complain as I do, I’m so thankful Heavenly Father gave me a girl.

Whining (via hunsonisgroovy)

Further proof that I am so, so not meant to be a mommy, as this cartoon went through my head 49 times during dinner last night.  Our SPECTACULAR daughter (who can eat her own weight in mashed potatoes) put us through a fun-filled dinner hour last night of “JUST TRY THE BAKED POTATO!!  IT’S JUST LIKE MASHED POTATOES!!!!”

Nothing gets me angrier than wasted food.  Really, violently, crazy angry.  She’s been refusing to even try food every since the day I pulled off my bra and said “Try it!  You’ll like it!”  She has the same sad, tortured look on her face she’s had since the day she was born that says “If I DO try it, everyone will DIE!  Why do you want everyone to DIE?!?!”

 Luckily, SexyHusband took the reigns on this one and cheerfully packed it up and an hour later when she was begging for food, she gobbled up the baked potato like she was an olympic eater.  I changed the sheets in our bedroom to channel the excess insanity.

MAN I’m glad this is a two-person job.

I am not baby hungry.  If I see a cute baby, I think “man, I love sleeping through the night and not changing 8 diapers a day / DON’T LET IT GIVE ME ITS COOTIES!!!!!!!!”  I never, ever think “I want to hold it it’s so soft and sweet and cuuuute!” 

I wish I was.  I wish I was excited about having baby number 2.  The constant nausea and exhaustion does have a way of killing any buzz, but having thing been through this once, I am now much more educated on how much work is ahead of me, and how poorly suited I am to it.

But really, I’m not cut out to do anything else, either!  Yeah, I play violin, but do I want to practice all day?  Been there, done that, got the degrees and now I’m pooped.  I tried working in an office, and teaching, and WOW, I’m really bad at that too. 

Do you know how much easier my life would be if all I wanted to do was cuddle and chase babies??  There HAS to be a pill for that!

I’ve been contemplating posting this picture for a week.  It’s been haunting my dreams.  Creepy, creepy hotdog-spagetti monster dreams.  But I know, if I made this for WonderToddler (you stick the uncooked spagetti in the hotdogs and then boil it) she’d go totally ape.

I just don’t know if I’m ready for that.

Happy Friday!

(via iguessthatscool:ayoungpioneer:cakeface)

Job searching is slightly demoralizing. The idea of relocating?  Terrifying.  But it could be worse - at least we’re not looking at any of THESE jobs yet!  ;)

(via applearts, Interior design room)

Today during nighttime stories, WonderToddler sighed and wished for flippers, and I thought of this.  Man, if I could get my hands on these, I’d be the coolest mom EVER.

(via applearts; Interior design room)

time e.mail machine

I haven’t gotten around to using http://futureme.org/, but I totally plan on it.  You write an e.mail there, and tell them when to send it to you.  I have this habit of working too hard to get wording to be all deep and junk so I haven’t even started.  But I’m thinking today me should write a letter to 3-years-from-now me.  The main points would be as follows:

I know you are probably thinking you should have another kid so the ages won’t be too far apart.  I can’t tell you if that’s a good idea or not, I’m just here to remind you how much pregnancy sucks.  Because there really is some chemical in your brain that makes you forget how bad these 9 months and labor are, and you obviously forgot because you actually did this to yourself again.  ON PURPOSE.  Right now, I (past you) amd laying in bed with my back aching, my belly stretching and hurting, and am trying to ignore the feeling of a fist made of fire punching me repeatedly in the chest via your throat.  And I have 4 MORE MONTHS TO GO.

So really, if it feels right, by all means do it.  Just trying to help you make an educated decision.  Oh, and I hope by now you are enjoying sleep again.  Because I won’t get to again until… oh crap.  WHY OH WHY IS THIS MY JOB?!?!

What will YOU re-warn your future self about?

4am Eastern Time Zone Friday morning, we were up and off to the airport.

10am Pacific Time Zone, we arrived in San Diego.

12:30pm Pacific, we got to witness my brother Quinn’s wedding to Mara at the San Diego temple.

…The rest of the day was spent in traffic (4 hours..!)  and with family…

4am Pacific Saturday Morning, off to the airport again.

…7 hours of air travel and delays….

6:20pm Eastern Time, arrive home, throw on some clothes that don’t fit and head to a gig 1.5 hours away that starts in 40 minutes…

7:30pm Eastern Time, arrive at gig, play dead-on-my-feet for 3 hours.

Midnight Eastern Time, arrive at home and pass out immediately.

Total time spent in San Diego - 20 hours. Hugs from my family?  Totally worth it.

A picture of Jane and Tarzan taking a picture of Jane and Tarzan.

I can’t embed this, but you WANT to click on it. Greek. Irish. Dancing. So funny I may have soiled myself a tad.

this is what happens when I start doing math

I just realized I got married when I was 25.  25?!?!  What was I thinking, really??  I didn’t plan on spending half of my twenties being responsible!!   I was so bohemian - rock star-in-training - heck, it’s like I’m already 30… homeowner, 1.5 kids, burb dwelling…  what difference will 30 be when I’m already so blasted domesticated?!?!

Ug.  I’m basically going to waste my entire 29th year flipping out.

Thanks for the cool reminders of the nifty things I’ve gotten out of the way in the last 9 years.  For blog buddies, y’all have incredibly memories!  I still think I should do one more insane thing.  Maybe a funeral for my 20s?  Except my friends that live here are all very… sedate, and it would weird the heck out of them.  You need some insane friends to pull something like that off.

Maybe shave my head and bead up some papparazzis with an umbrella?  I have an umbrella on hand and a creepy looking scalp.

Golden Years (via ooliquidnightoo) 

I AM MERE MONTHS FROM TURNING 30.  I AM USING ALL CAPS BECAUSE I AM ACTUALLY SCREAMING THIS.  I HAVE DONE ABSOLUTELY NOTHING INTERESTING DURING MY 20’S AND I HAVE TO MAKE UP FOR IT BEFORE OCTOBER.  QUICK, IDEAS!!

Remember the whole rigamarole about Tonya Harding in the ‘94 Olympics - there was the bashing-in-the-competetor, the major-rivalry thing, and then, when she finally got a chance to prove herself, she couldn’t perform because of a silly broken shoelace.  Such a small thing, but it made a big difference.

I feel like I have a broken shoelace.  There is so much stuff I need to do to be a good mom, have a nice house, make the world run, but dagnabit, I have a broken shoelace holding me back.  The crazy heartburn, the headaches, the body aches and constant exhaustion.  I KNOW what I should be doing, but man, I want to hide under my bed so dang bad and do zip-zilch-nada.

At least I don’t wear french braids.  That’s one thing.

For the Mormons out there, who also like marshmallows.

(via myserendipities)

Michael Buble : Sway I was drying my hair this morning when this song got into my brain and wouldn’t get out. And I started thinking about the pronounciation of his last name “Boob-lay” and couldn’t stop giggling. Heh. Boob-lay. And it made me think of the old bag Hyacinth Bucket from the old Britcom “Keeing Up Appearances”: Remember how she’d insist her last name wasn’t pronounced Bucket - “It’s BOUQUET!!”? So I got to thinking - if I showed Buble (along with whatever accent thingy it needs) to some French person, would they say Boob-lay or Bubble? Is he just making it up? Can someone please find me a French person who doesn’t know who this Boob-lay guy is so we can test this?

Michael Buble : Sway

I was drying my hair this morning when this song got into my brain and wouldn’t get out.  And I started thinking about the pronounciation of his last name “Boob-lay” and couldn’t stop giggling.  Heh.  Boob-lay.

And it made me think of the old bag Hyacinth Bucket from the old Britcom “Keeing Up Appearances”:

Remember how she’d insist her last name wasn’t pronounced Bucket - “It’s BOUQUET!!”?  So I got to thinking - if I showed Buble (along with whatever accent thingy it needs) to some French person, would they say Boob-lay or Bubble?  Is he just making it up?  Can someone please find me a French person who doesn’t know who this Boob-lay guy is so we can test this?

via realreason:ZOMBAMA BRAINS by Pop-Monkey(via TeeFury Daily Tee)

housewife by alittlesussy

spot. on.

(image via audreyhepburncomplex)

So, where were we?  Oh yes, unemployed and pregnant.  I am reminded every day by how how much worse it could be, so I don’t want to spend too much energy bemoaning my state.  Speaking of state - our fair state has an unemployment rate of almost 10% - but I digress. 

I feel small.  Unable to do anything of importance.  I’ve been teaching my lessons, parenting the toddler and earning a small amount of money by playing my violin - but with SexyHusband losing his job, that puts a chill over everything.  I’ll keep doing my jobs, but they don’t matter as much.  They don’t pay for the doctor, or the house.   We’ll be fine, he’s proven time and time again that he has mad job-getting and landing-on-your-feet skills.  But I feel like it’s shown a big spotlight on how useless I am. 

And on another completely related note, I think my baby bump went away.  The baby is still in there - kicking and healthy and growing, but dagnabit, I don’t look nearly pregnant enough.   It’s no fun to look like a beer belly, when there’s a blasted BABY in there.

*added*  did I mention how the best gift I could have gotten was sitting around Friday, after blogging the news of SH’s lay-off, and reading the sweet comments and e.mails from loved ones I know and ones that I don’t, offering support and comfort??  THANK YOU.  I.  Heart.  Everyone.

medical marvel.

For some people, pregnancy has side effects.  Like, acne flares up, or they get heartburn. 

For me, I think my pregnancies make SexyHusband get laid off from work.  Crap.

the mind of a 2 year old

whodathunk??

Yours truly was asked to be in a 7th grade career fair!  But I forgot to ask them - what job exactly did they have in mind for me to represent???  It was by an old orchestra teaching collegue so I assume it has something to do with music, but what?  I came up with a few jobs I have that they might ask me to represent:

Freelance musician - plays occasional weddings and parties, standing like a statue in the corner playing Haydn and pop tunes.

Member of a band - playing pubs, festivals and other odd, odd venues.

Private violin teacher - teaching young’ns in my basement.  Which means I have to keep it kind of clean.  Gah.

The World’s Worst Housekeeper - self-explainatory.  Especially if you’ve ever been a roomate or visited me.

Wife - to the strangest guy ever. I’m actually pretty good at that.

Mom - I could break this into a few different things, but I have no idea what they are.  I touch nasty things, discipline, pretend to be cheery in the face of earth-shattering tantrums, try to impart a tiny part of good sense and religion and keep public nuisance to a minimum.

Man, I’m gonna be a HIT.  Poor, poor future generation.