The last few days our house has smelled funky. And I don’t mean that in a good, fun way. This foul odor filled our main floor and seemed to radiate within the kitchen/breakfast nook area. So I did what any other slackin’ yet harried mom does.

At first, I blamed the dog, ocassionally muttering swear words under my breath while shooting her dirty looks. (I would have blamed the hubby but he had been out of town.)

The dog had recently been to the vet. Steroids were prescribed. I had assumed the meds were upsetting her digestive track. Sassy dog turned into gassy dog. And she has no shame! She’ll sit on the couch, let them rip and not even give you a sheepish glance. Didn’t she get the memo that we women don’t do things like that?

So yesterday when the stink reached epic proportions, I took out the trash and opened tons of windows. Within a few hours, the smell had vanished. Victory!  That is, until I closed the windows again for the evening and realized the stink had come back.

Late last night (ok, early this morning) as I sat at the kitchen table typing away, engulfed in the smell, I looked over at the bamboo plant that’s kept in a big vase with pretty rocks and lots of water.  Well, duh. Several of the rocks were covered in mold. Ick! Being that mold is one of those 25 things I’m allergic to? That would explain the last two weeks of headaches that wouldn’t go away. Once I put the plant outside, the smell magically disappeared.

I’m feeling really guilty for assuming Abbeydog had that sort of pooting power. So I threw her a piece of deli ham and we agreed to call it “even.”

So the moral of the story is… If there’s a stink in the house you might want to check the bamboo plant before you blame the dog — or any other critters within your home.   

And then reality gave me a swift kick in the ass.  This little boy had colic. This little boy didn’t sleep. This little boy had alot of ear infections. This little boy wasn’t much of an eater. This little boy screamed. Alot. This little boy proved that he’d inherited his father’s will of steel.

So we spent alot of time in two places — in Target and at various restaurants. (Oh and the grocery story. Excuse me, THREE places. He liked carts for some reason.) Sure there were trips to Maryland, Pennsylvania, Michigan, Wisconsin, and New Orleans. There might have even been a trip or two to the zoo, a museum, and botanical gardens. To be honest, I don’t really remember. He would wake up  four to six times a night. (That first year is hazy.)

But all of those trips to Target worked out. By three years of age, he knew the local store so well he could navigate through the various departments. (He was a like GPS — only full of fuss and poop.)

Yeah, for us the first year was rough. It would have been wonderful to have known back then that there was a huge and amazing community of moms only a click away. Course it would also have been very helpful to know about the book, The Rookie Mom’s Handbag too. (And just so you know, we did visit all of those places and tons of parks during his second and third years. You know, when we were both sleeping better.)

The book is the brilliant idea of the busy chicks behind Rookie Moms. Plus there’s more than 250 activities that moms can do with their babies. How cool is that? Oh and if you want to get a shower gift that’s different and cool and useful, this is a great book!

The Rookie Mom bloggers in conjunction with Parent Bloggers Network would like to know how you spent your first year of motherhood. Post anytime this weekend - Friday, May 9 through Sunday, May 11. Within your post, make sure to link http://www.rookiemoms.com and http://blog.parentbloggers.com then email parentbloggers@gmail.com. with the link to your post. Feel free to get creative with your title!

According to PBN, “you could win one of two fantastic gift bags filled with more than $250 worth of goodies for moms, including the brand new BABYBJÖRN^®Baby Carrier Synergy, a child’s gardening kit from Smith & Hawken, a baby tshirt from Scout Organic Baby, and of course, a copy of The Rookie Mom’s Handbook.  Two winners will be drawn at random. Plus, Heather and Whitney will choose their three favorite posts and feature them on their website!”

The first night of the festival was rainy in a big, bad way. Despite rain gear, the chicks and I were soaked to the bone. It was the first time I ever stood in the pouring rain waiting for a band to start their set. 

That night was also the first time I’ve ever been in a port-a-potty while it was rocking. (No clue why it started rocking a bit. I don’t remember the winds being that strong. But you know what they say, “if the port-a-potty is a’rocking — get the hell out of there as fast as you can.”)

On a yummy note, after the festival Friday, Jess (see this story and this one about her kids) and I went to an eatery across from the Peabody Hotel. Crawfish macaroni. Never had that before. Mmmmm. Tas-tay!

Saturday also brought a myriad of new experiences - like my first temporary tattoo and my first visit to BB King’s. It was in this packed bar some guy kept pestering me to leave the bar and go back to his hotel room – while another man kept humping my leg. THAT was definitely a first for me. (Both men were sloppy drunk. “Humpty” was dancing.) I didn’t know the “mom who looks like she’s on her way to the grocery store” look was so tantalizing! (Make a mental note ladies!) Who knew that if you want to find yourself a little unwanted attention, all you have to do is put on a $15 pair of capri’s from Kohl’s, a 6-year-old jacket and your wedding ring. Oh and when they talk to you, you should probably be polite. Apparently, to a grossly liquored up man? Politeness = flirting. 

At one point, I went out to the back patio to escape and to get a bit of quiet. (An employee said I could go back there. Apparently other employees disagreed.) This was the first time, I’ve ever had two angry women scream at me simultaneously. It was also the first time someone has called me a “stupid white bitch” (in my presence). 

So I went back to the bar area only to see Humpty and The Pest looking for me. (It got to a point where any time I’d talked to someone else, they’d shoo the other person away and continue to pester and hump.) I was relieved to see dear friend Dana. This was the first time I’ve ever started crying in a bar. (Should I mention I was very sober during this whole ordeal?) I felt trapped and creeped out. So she and I went outside and talked. (Humpty came following but at least he backed off when he saw I was upset.) It started to feel like a horrible experience I went through with a date many years ago. (The guy I’m referring to also did THIS.) The “fight or flight” reaction kicked in. After that, I couldn’t relax.

That brings me to another first… The first time I ever left a trip early. Dear friend Chris had to get home on Sunday. So I cut my trip short. The chicks I was with were very cool about me leaving early. And once home, I spent the rest of Sunday laying around, watching bad movies and gorging on chocolate from this place. And that night, dear friend Sarah sent me pics of all of the cool stuff she and the rest of the chicks were doing. That was very sweet, yes?

All in all, a few weird experiences but the wild wimmins I was with (these chicks plus another named Tina) are super fun. We all look out for each other. We all support each other. We have a blast when we get together. And being with chickies like that? Outweighs any bad.

Thanks to the blogger who loves Johnny Depp more than any woman on the face of the earth can — Mrs. G. She asked about the trip and then we talked about what I should blog about.

First off, the hubby can skip the flowers. The easiest way to get to my heart is to bring me a fountain soda from Quik Trip. Nothing says “I love you” like waking up to find a QT soda waiting in the fridge. (Yeah, I’m cheap.)

And then, he could hang up the blinds we bought last fall then finish up a certain long-suffering administrative project. (Yeah, he knows what that is.) Oh and the icing on the cake would be for him, on Monday, to call Satan’s helpers (insurance company) and battle with them over coverage of his surgery from last year instead of me. (The home admin tasks = not easy.)

I know the man works hard so the boy can be up to his elbows in Star Wars stuff and I can stay home/pursue writing opportunities. I appreciate this greatly. (He’s a corporate rock star, he is. And I’m very proud of him.) I know that when the weekend rolls around, the last thing he wants to do is dive into chores around the house. He’s tired. Watching a few movies or taking Seth to breakfast sounds far more appetizing. But when he does work around the house, in my mind, he’s telling me that he cares about our home and household. It makes me feel valued and taken care of. It is lovely to feel that way, yes?

(Course I should probably add that this weekend he’s taking care of Seth while I’m at “Memphis in May” with some fun peeps for a few days. So right, now I’m feeling pretty valued.)

So I guess this year I just want the loose ends tied up from a few old projects. And a soda.

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In an effort to promote their new charitable giving site, Johnson’s Baby Cause, powered by Global Giving, Johnson & Johnson are combining energies with PBN to launch a new blog blast. And this particular blog blast? Prizes galore! All you have to do is write a post on your blog about how you’d like to be recognized this Mother’s Day. Post anytime between now and next Thursday, May 8 and include links to http://www.babycause.com and http://blog.parentbloggers.com. Then, send your blog post link to parentbloggers@gmail.com. The posts will be listed on the PBN blog Thursday, May 8. (And don’t forget to give your post a unique title.)

Both Johnson’s and PBN are chipping in for the prizes. Ten winners will receive a Johnson’s Mom and Baby product gift basket (thanks to Johnson’s) and $25 credit to donate to the charities of their choice at Johnson’s Baby Cause (thanks to PBN).

Oh and don’t forget to check out the celebrity-sponsored eBay auction benefiting Johnson’s Baby Cause where you can bid on baby gear that been “gently used” by celebrities like Julianne Moore and Matt Damon.

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P.S. Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU to the kind and supportive people who read my last post and commented.  Reading your comments of ”me too!” and “hang in there” made me all tear-eyed (in a good way). Thank you for passing along some of your strength. That means so much! 

At first I shrugged it off, thinking it was a series of bad days. Then I thought it was PMS. Then I thought I just needed more sleep. I stopped listening to my body and soul. I just kept making excuses, hoping it would go away.

But it didn’t. It got worse. I was ill-tempered and consistently felt like an exposed nerve. I felt overwhelmed by day-to-day demands. But what made me really start to wonder was when I went to a certain corporate sponsored “baby camp.” At the gathering, I saw a room full of these   amazing,    talented     women  –   women   I   respect,     admire     and     adore. (I’m sure I’m forgetting others here.) But I wanted nothing more than to dissipate, to melt into nothingness. I felt painfully self-conscious. 

I walked up to someone I knew to say “hi.” She said, “Oh. I didn’t know YOU’D be here.” In my mind she was unhappy to see me. This solidified my thoughts of, “I am nothing and have no right to be here. Someone else should be in my place. Someone who can write.”  

I was (and still am) incredibly grateful to warm, wonderful Liz, Jaelithe and Dana. I clung to them like a newly born kitten to its mother. I felt just as blind and vulnerable.

After that, I began to avoid people and social invitations. This anxiety enveloped me even during meetings with family and old friends. My mustered energy was mainly spent on trying not to cry and wishing myself invisible.

I had these heartbreaking thoughts. The “I’m such a shitty wife and mother. My husband and son would be so much better off without me” thought alternated with the “I’m such a fuck-up. I have no value. Me not being on this earth would probably make it a better place” thought. 

That was when I knew I needed help. That this thing was bigger than what I could handle on my own. I’d been through this nine years ago. During that time, I got to a point where the only thought that got me out of bed was, “hey, maybe today will be my lucky day and I’ll get hit by a bus!”.

But now there’s a little boy I need to take care of. And a household. And a marriage. And a yard. And other obligations. And I knew I couldn’t afford to slip further.

So I went to the doctor. I starred at the shiney, white-tiled floor and said as little as possible, holding my breath whenever my eyes would well  with tears. I told him about the anti-anxiety drugs I’ve been on throughout the years that were supposed to ward off the many migraines. We discussed how the side effects had always overshadowed what little improvement they’d bring. I told him if they were my only option, I didn’t want them. But he had a different medication for me to try. 

So its been about a week since I’ve been on “a little something.” I know its still pretty new. But it is keeping me from drowning in depression — my buoy in the sea. I know medicine isn’t the only answer. I need to make some changes. But the horrible thoughts, irritability and heavy numbness is starting to slowly dissipate. 

I can’t adequately discribe how precious it is to see Seth’s sweet little smile and feel a bit of joy. Or to appreciate the vivid colors of spring flowers. Or to think about the future and not feel dread. I had forgotten what it felt like to genuinely experience those emotions. And I missed that. I missed feeling like “me.” 

Thanks to JJ for writing a post a few weeks ago that really stuck with me. Thanks to a few other bloggers who’ve been very frank about their depression as well as the aspects surrounding it.

But after a good giggle over Linlee and Andrea’s ideas he settled down. He had a very important job to do. As he munched thoughtfully on some Ritz Bits, he chose “Libby the Laptop” (Aleka’s World).  Congrats Alexandra!

Thanks ya’ll for participating. It was alot of fun hearing the names. Hope your weekend is a happy one!  

 Like when you are using your laptop at your snackbar in your kitchen. And you get off the stool, take a step and trip over the battery cord. And hit your head on the counter.

 OUCH!

%$#$^&@&^%$!!!!!

 &^%$@$^&*&^^$$$!!!!

(Hold on, I’m not done swearing yet.)

**%$$^^#@%!!!!

Anyone have an icepack?

Lovely friend Dana at Mamalogues lost about four years of her writings recently due to server issues. If you know of any way or know of anyone who can help her, PLEASE let her know (or send me a comment and I can forward your info on to her.) Can you imagine? Four years of posts - even birthday letters to her sons! 

Btw, Dana is one of the amazing bloggers behind the St. Louis Bloggers Guild.  Other totally solar bloggers include: A Bun’s Life, WOBL in Training, The Broad Brush, SuperFun Patrol, The State of Discontent, Slackermom’s R Us, Prologos, News Bitch, Patrick Says, and Little Bald Doctors.

I didn’t care what it looked like — it just couldn’t weigh more than my son (40 pounds) and had to do what I wanted it to do WHEN I wanted it to. (Very much UNLIKE my son.)

I had heard Very Bad Things about Dell laptops and the company’s customer service. Has HP Pavilion dv2000 pissed anyone off? (Gulp.) Hope not. Cause that’s the kind I got. (And I know this is so not a big deal to anyone else. But its a cool thing for me!)

Some neato features? A built-in webcam (great for my homemade porn biz - I cater to the men with cellulite fetishes. All two of them.) and some really pretty design across the top and keyboard area.

Don’t ask me anything else about the computer because I have no clue. Its like my car — I have no clue what’s what. And as long as it does what its supposed to do, I will love it, maintain it and probably leave candy wrappers all over it.

Speaking of taking care… This here computer needs a name, yes? She’s female (because she has female “parts” or plugins). So what shall we name her? The winner (Seth will choose) will get a $15 gift cert to Target or Wal-Mart. Feel free to leave your name idea in the comments section. Oh and if you think Target and Wal-Mart are evil, I can even donate to a charity in your name. Winner is planned to be announced on April 28.

P.S. There’s another contest opportunity at my other blog. Grab your feisty fem friends! You could win a trip to London.

Most mornings, you can find my son and I in the breakfast nook. His brow is furrowed. My temper is tested. There is alot teeth grinding on both our parts. I’m talking homework.

We sit together for almost an hour each morning. Since his kindergarten session starts in the afternoon, we started doing homework in the mornings, when his brain is fresh. (Next year will be a whole different schedule.) But it doesn’t seem to matter - it is still a constant struggle.

Its not that he’s got an hour of homework — he usually only gets homework a few times a week. These worksheets should only take the child 10-20 minutes. But yet… With all of the lollygagging, singing about poopy butts and weenies, screeching, calling the dog, asking for a drink, going to the bathroom, whining, playing with the eraser, arguing, and fussing, these worksheets take more like 30-40 minutes.

And that’s only IF I’m standing right next to him to say, “Seth. Now you need to write a lowercase ‘r’. No, that’s uppercase. You need to erase that. Write a lowercase ‘r’. Seth! You just wrote another capital ‘r’. You need to write a small ‘r’. (He finally writes the ‘r’.) Ok great. Do you see you’re trying to write the word ‘rat’, what comes after the ‘r’. Yes! Its the ‘at’ sound. How do you think that’s spelled? Yes! ‘a’ and ’t’. Very good. Now write the ‘a’ and ‘t’. No, not on this other line. You need to write the ‘a’ and ‘t’ right next to the ‘r’. We’re writing the word ‘rat’ remember? Ok. Dude, what is that? That doesn’t look like an ‘a’. Remember? An ‘a’ is a circle and a stick, Bunny. No that stick is on the wrong side of the circle.

After 20 minutes of this. (I’m losing patience faster as the school year wears on.) I get frustrated and start talking to him in a very irritated tone. And I wonder… Why can’t the child just write out the freaking ‘r’ and the ‘at’ on the same line? Why can’t he just do it without me standing over him? When I volunteer in his classroom, I see kids doing their work by themselves. Why can’t Seth do that? Is this normal? Is there something wrong with me and my approach? Is there something wrong with him? I see other kids follow directions, why can’t he? (We spend alot of time correcting work he did at school - not that he didn’t know the material - he just didn’t follow directions or finish the project.)

And since his skills aren’t up to par in certain areas we do extra little projects. He brings them in to his teacher — mainly so she can see he’s trying. (And also, because I don’t think she’d believe me otherwise.) He’s come a long way with his fine motor skills since the beginning of the year but… There’s alot more that needs to be done. (The bright-side is that his handwriting is more legible than hubby’s chicken scratch.)

I can tell the homework has taken a toll on our relationship. We aren’t as close as we used to be. What doesn’t help is that I’m the one who has to make sure he does all of those things he hates to do - like shower, brush teeth, enforce bedtimes, eat veggies, do homework and so forth. Hubby takes him ice skating for two hours then out for an cream dinner and HE’s the hero. I’m the big, bad bitch.

When I think of the upcoming years of homework help, I start to wonder if I can talk my doctor into giving me a script for a lifetime supply of Valium. Clearly ONE of us needs some sort of medicine to keep from going crazy and strangling the other.

But I have to wonder… Is all of this “normal”?

P.S. I know that the kitchen isn’t usually the best environment for kids to do homework. But we have no other kids. The breakfast nook is one of the quietest places in the house. With all of the construction and remodeling of neighbor homes as well as trash and delivery trucks driving by, the rooms facing  the street are far more distracting than a little room that faces a quiet back yard.

If the writer is being credited, linked to, or reimbursed for his or her time/talent there are rarely problems. But as social media grows, so does the number of opportunists willing to exploit said bloggers. NOT Cool.

Bloggers need to organize. Bloggers also need a place where they can go for guidance on tech issues, legal issues, blogging ethics and information on community outreach events. And that’s why the St. Louis Bloggers Guild was born.

The program is still in its infancy. We’ve got VERY BIG ideas and we’re adapting as we grow. Right now, we’re trying to get the word out to the rest of the bloggers in St. Louis, St. Charles County, and the metro east. So if you’re a blogger in the St. Louis area, visit the St. Louis Bloggers Guild for more information.

 I know! Two whole posts in a row NOT related to suburban homelife. Crazy!

P.S. There’s a post at Midwestern Mommy Reviews on the “L” word. (Not “love,” not “lesbians” not “lasagna” but “lice”. Parents of school-aged kids? You might want to read this review written on behalf of Mom Central.)