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I have a strange feeling that menstruation is returning to my life after being notably absent since last July (somewhere Kotex is rejoycing), which is making me feel quite hormonal. I’m terribly crabby and feeling extremely put upon, so in that vein I will make a list of my current pet peeves, which is of course due to my now extremely hormonal state, ever changing.

*People who when faced with a long line to check out, get all up in my personal space as though the space in I occupy is somehow holding up the whole line. I admitidly have a fairly wide personal space bubble and not prone to want to snuggle up to complete strangers, but come on. The two feet that I occupy is not what is holding up the line. Just relax and try to enjoy the time that you actually able to zone out. I do.

*Getting my ickle Alexander vaccinated just plain sucks. There is something so hard about inflicting (albeit necessary) pain on someone so small and innocent, especially since you cannot assuage your guilt by promising an ice cream or a trip to McDonalds afterwards. Plus, the day afterwards is ruined by an incredibly bad mood (on his part, I just feel drained).

*I have been so, so tired all last week, so much so that I have not gotten much done around the house at all. Since my own sense of personal satisfaction is strongly linked to the amount of things I can accomplish, this makes me feel worse. I have been so tired that I actually took a pregnancy test, which for some reason I totally hate to do. But it served to remind me that I need to take one at least once a month while I am amennorheic to ensure that I am not actually pregnant. Because, God forbid, I have a miscarriage that I mistake for a period, I run a high risk of developing Hydrops fetalis with subsequent pregnancies.

*I flipping hate Dustin Diamond. Sure, I watched Saved By The Bell back in the day and I thought that he was a bit of an idiot back then in an annoying little brother sort of way but now I find him completely repulsive. And no, I have NOT seen the porno that he was in because I absolutely know that I would never, ever be able to have sexual intercourse again. If he were to fall off the planet, I would be totally happy. Ew.

Can you tell I’m feeling hormonal today? Help me out here, what is pissing YOU off today?

Because I am a certified Bad Mother (nifty framed certificate and all!), I started my Alexander on solids as soon as I possibly could in desperate hope that this would resolve the My Child NEVER Sleeps Problem. It didn’t actually do the slightest bit of good in the Sleeping Department, but at least it gave my poor nipples a rest for a time or two.

To say that he has taken to solids well would be a drastic understatement, he LOVES his solids, which thrills me in ways I’d never imagined.

Let me back up for a moment, so I can let you in on where this comes from: Ben, my darling Ben is not what we in this family call An Eater (but he is, however A Sleeper). Sure, now he’ll wolf down McDonalds like it’s going out of style, but what you never saw is the coaxing, pleading, begging and threatening we did in order to even get him to TRY THAT in first place. WHY would I make him eat this horrible, overprocessed, fatty gross food, might you ask? I was sick and tired of him only eating Saltines and Oatmeal three times per day and I assumed that this would be some sort of safer segueway into eating Real Food That Doesn’t Taste Like Cardboard. It worked. Eventually.

But not before some nearly irreparable damage was done to my ego. You see, when your kid does ANYTHING outside the norm, and as I can see, FoodStuff appear to garner a special place here, people are so very interested in discussing this with you. Discussing is totally the wrong word. More like judging you loudly about it.

Before we knew about the Spectrum Stuff, I was given SO MUCH FLACK about what my child ate that I eventually developed a hugemongous complex about my parenting in general. It wasn’t so much that I hadn’t TRIED to get my son to eat food, it’s just that he flipped the hell out every time I did so, and I wasn’t about to engage in a battle of the wills with a toddler. Period. Why give the poor kid a complex at such a young age? (BTW: we used the same method to potty train him and it worked beautifully).

So, chip on my shoulder large and intact, I used to laugh bitterly every time that I would head down the baby aisle, where the diapers are so convienently located across from the large display of prepackaged baby foods, because as far as I was concerned, it was all a sham: no one’s kids ate that crap (to be fair, if you saw “Turkey Dinner” all pureed in a jar, the color of vomit AND UNREFRIDGERATED you’d call it crap, too). I picked up some fruits and veggies in July, just to have on hand in the unlikely event that my child would ever allow such stuff to grace his ickle palate. Wouldn’t you know it, my supply of this mushed up food is now nearly depleated.

This has redeemed me in ways that I had never thought possible, because maybe, just maybe the problems with Ben had nothing to do with me in the first place. That might sound like a “Well, duh, Becky” statement, but it isn’t, not really. Parents, especially with their first child, are likely to blame themselves as well have to fend off blame from other people for whatever abnormalities (or as I prefer: personallity) that their children may have.

But since seeing Alexander literally wriggle his ickle body with joy when confronted with yogurt (so much so that I actually checked to ensure that he was not having a seizure. Yes, I’m serious.), I’ve decided that maybe, baby, it had nothing to do with me.

So thank you, Alexander, and thank you Gerber baby foods (which I still contend look awful) for redeeming me in ways I’d never imagined.

Man, oh man am I feeling full of The Laziness today, but as I have committed (at least in my head) to trying to post something every day on this here blog, I have decided that the only way to accomplish this somewhat lofty goal is to do a post in bullet form.

*Alex has decided that rice cereal is as nasty as it looks. So nasty, in fact, that he no longer wants to take part in having it grace his now discriminatory palate. Luckily, he thinks Pear/Pineapple and Carrots are akin to heaven, so he has been eating them with gusto. He has also taken a liking to my nonfat/gross/foul yogurt, which is taking me out of my lazy slump to head out to get him his own kind. Because the kid doesn’t need Splenda quite yet. At least not until he’s 12.

*Today, I gave him a graham cracker (don’t worry, not the honey kind, I checked) which he summarily destroyed all over his bouncy seat leaving the dog in new heights of ecstacy, unparelled by only the mere mention of broccoli. Yes, my dog adores broccoli and carrots. He’s strange and sausage shaped and kind of stupid, but we love him. Well, except for when he fights with skunks. Then we call him variations of dumbass for the next couple of weeks.

*I recently started using some self-tanning lotion, which frightens me, as I have visions of myself looking like a slightly chubby, streaky carrot. I have this old friend you see (well, she’s not old per se, but I’ve known her since pretty much forever) who comes into town bringing me a bag full of cast offs from the lotion store that she works at. She’s brought me a bunch of self tanners before, but I was pregnant, and the smell bothered my sensitive nose, so I gave it all away. Now that I’m not pregnant, I’ve realized that it wasn’t actually pregnancy nose that prevented me from using it before. No, it just completely smells horrific. Either way, my previously pasty baby is emitting a nice sun kissed glow (I kid, I kid).

*Week 2 of The Diet is going swimmingly. I’ve lost another 2 pounds, which of course makes me extremely happy, although I have to admit, I wish those numbers were going down FASTER. I can so see why the no/low carb diets are popular, and sometimes I wish that I could do them without, of course, the anal leakage. Other than that, it’s a good diet, it makes sense and best of all NO BOXED MEALS (shudders dramatically).

*I am a touch anal (how many times can I mention the word butt, ass, or anal in a post? Many, many times.) and a little OCD, so when I got a note from Ben’s school in red ink demanding that a book that we read last week be returned to them I got a little panicky. I distinctly remember sending the book back to school, I signed for it certifying (which is a total hoot. *Me*, signing stuff like *that.* Man, I really am a mother, aren’t I?) that we’d indeed read it and now it’s gone. My gut tells me that the book has been lost at school, and I’d bet $150 that I’d sent it back, but all the same, it’s making me unnaturally upset that it’s gone BECAUSE I DON’T KNOW WHAT ELSE TO DO ABOUT IT. I’m not going to argue with it, and since I come across as well, different, in writing I need to make sure that they have checked thoroughly at school prior to sending them a check for the stupid book.

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