So tonight I decided to make chili (chili and cinnamon rolls, doesn’t that sound yummy?…mmmmmmmm….). I was looking for the chili powder in my “spice cabinet” and in doing so had to move several jars and containers around to find it. Look what I found hiding in the far, top corner (by the way, blue moons and me cooking happen in about the same frequency):


And not just a sharps container. Look what was inside:


I can’t even begin to tell you the jumble of clusterfucked emotions I felt.

While, yes, I am grateful and happy that a year later I have a beautiful little girl, but I also felt some anger over the hell we had to go through to get here. A rather unpleasant reminder, especially since it was about a month ago I threw away a stash of extra needles and tried to push it out of my mind. I wonder how many other little bio-hazardous trinkets I’ll find in the nooks and crannies of the house?

Luckily, I’m sure I didn’t hide any with the cookies I keep in the pantry.


Here’s a note I posted on facebook during my “hiatus”:

I sent out 11 invites to XBoy’s birthday party coming this Saturday at the bowling alley. I’ve received one (1) phone call.

RSVP basically means “please respond”.

It does not mean, “please respond, if you feel like. I mean, if it’s not an inconvenience to YOU and all, but just, you know, if you have a minute or two to spare…”

I’m paying for your kid to bowl, to eat pizza and to serve treats, not to mention baby sit. Show some fucking courtesy.

I did end up getting three (3) calls in total. Guess how many kids showed up? 11. That’s ELEVEN 5, 6 & 7 YEAR OLD BOYS!!

I was the cake deliverer so I had ZGirl with me. Mr. DD was supposed to boy-wrangle. He pitched a fit that I wasn’t help him organize the boys by putting their names into the system even though I was busy dealing with the baby.

Finally, one of the other dads stepped in and took that part over. While I am helping him get the names of all the boys and separate them into three groups, Mr. DD comes back from getting every one shoes and asks, “Who’s watching ZGirl?”

I can’t believe he didn’t notice the dozen of bowling balls within my grasp that I could have easily lobbed at his head. By the time we got the boys actually bowling, I was on the verge of committing suicide by impaling myself on the bowling-name-adder-thingamajig.

To top it off, my husband thought it was in poor taste when I suggested we get a pitcher of beer. What a party-pooper.

Here, have fun doing your own virtual bowling. Make sure you put your score in comments. There might be a prize in store for you. Maybe not, but you never know, now do you? I’m crazy like that.


A letter came home with XBoy about a collection for his teacher’s Christmas/Birthday present.

I put $5.00 into an envelope – after I asked XBoy if he wanted to contribute – and put that into his backpack.

“Do you think $5.00 is enough?” asked Mr. DD.

“It’s plenty.”

“Well, she’s doing those reports and giving XBoy extra time,” he responds.

“I am NOT tipping his teacher for doing her job. So what if she has to spend extra time with XBoy? Parents shouldn’t have to slip her a $20 to make sure each of her students get the attention they require to succeed.”

“Damn. You’re crabby!” Mr. DD points out.

I confirm his astute observation by telling him to piss off.


Here’s what I realized during my pseudo-hiatus.

I talk to much.

I worry about what you will think.

I stopped having something interesting/pertinent/informative to say, oh…I’d say, never.

These lessons were learned when I posted a few shorties on facebook and just enjoyed the brain-dump.

So while I’ll continue with the tag line above expaining why “punch drunk”, I’ll let you in on a little secret from this point forward that if I could, I would add as a sub-tag line:

Lower Your Expectations.

Plus, not posting was KILLING me as I have soooo  much to tell you!*

By the way, the snow stays until WordPress discontinues it. Suck it up.

* No, I am not pregnant, but I’m pretty sure I’m only one of three bloggers out there right now that is not.