A day in the life

Saturday, May 30, 2009

Today's horoscope

I don't pay too much attention to these things,but todays was surprisingly on target:

Taking care of business is probably a wise thing to do today with the Moon in your professional 10th House. Working behind the scenes has its benefits, yet sometimes you wonder how much you are really appreciated. Unfortunately, seeking approval from your superiors might be a waste of your otherwise productive energy. Your most reliable strategy to be noticed now is simply doing your job to the best of your ability.

Via Tarot.com

In other news, Mercury is now direct ... oh, thank goodness. Things are already picking up. I am so relieved.

Things that inspire me, part 4c

Music that's gotten me through the tough times.


The thing about music, the thing about this medium of communication, is that it is a beautiful delivery system. Looking at my list, it's all (well, kinda) female artists ... interesting ... songs that speak to my heart.

These are the songs I've relied on to help me through the times when I was at my lowest, the songs that were on repeat during my commute, at the gym, or whenever I had the chance to squeeze them in. It' snot just the melody, it's the lyrics, the common understanding that I find so beautiful and inspiring. Hope you enjoy them as much as I do.

Nelly Furtado (with Juanes) ... Nelly doesn't know this, but she's a soulmate of mine. We've gone through similar experiences at the same times in our lives, starting with her very first cd that got me through the Radio Man days. Loose, her latest, speaks to this new part of my life. Saying farwell to the old, codependent me, welcoming a new life and fresh beginnings ... I call this my "Anonmom grows up cd".



Anna Nalick, Breathe ... the song that kept me breathing when Bozo left six months into our marriage... leaving me at a total and complete loss of myself and my senses. Still gives me chills.



Nikka Costa ... Nikka, Nikka, Nikka ... why aren't you more popular? I remmber reading raves about her when this cd came out, and DJ Mark Ronson said this is one of the few cds he would play all the way through. He was right. This marked my emancipation from my parents ... the time I was really ready to move out on my own and do my own thing. Times were rough for a sheltered naive girl thrust in to the helter skelter vibe of los angeles. I didn't know if I would make it at times ... but I did.



Hedwig and The Angry Inch. I saw this right before I moved to Southern California and thought it was the most genius film ever made, and I still do. A rock musical about a man who undergoes a botched sex change operation, becomes a rock singer,and spurned love interest of a mega rock star. Who can't relate to that? Seriously, the film contains every emotion anyone who's ever loved from afar and been desperate for answers can understand. Origins of Love gets me every time.

Interesting things I've found online recently

- There is another Anonmom out there in the blogosphere. She is a former scientologist, getting her story out. Interesting.

- There are a lot of jobs out there, despite the doom and gloom that's been making the rounds. Sure, there's a bit more competition for open positions, but they DO exisit. And there is one out there that is JUST right for me. I know it!

- One of the guys who made the most fun of me in high school -- I reported him and a cronie to the principal at one point -- is now my FB friend. No pic of him yet, but I am praying he is toothless and entirely homely. In other FB news, saw photos of 2 popular people from high school, and time has not been kind to them. Wow. Score more points for the nerds.

- Gimp software - a free Photoshop-like software, which completely intimdates me. The layers and all that stuff seem very confusing. I'm hoping to master my fears and become well-versed in this kind of stuff SOON! My goal is to make a new header for this blog sometime in the next month.

- A message from The Universe:

It sure is hard to get really angry at someone, Anonmom, when you can think of all the reasons you love them.

And you can - The Universe

Yesterday I became a stereotype

A single mom, buying food with food stamps.

...

It's hard to believe I've been in this apartment complex for 2 years already. It doesn't seem like that long, but I've been saying that about everything lately, especially Baby, who has morphed into a big boy seemingly overnight.

Two years ago I was massively pregnant and so desperate to move out of the studio shared with Bozo in West Los Angeles. Bozo was no help in the search ... a cheapskate at heart, he insisited we should stay there. If you could see what I'm talking about, you would definitely LAUGH at the idea of me and Bozo plus Baby in an already crowded apartment with horrible parking and petty street crime.


Due to being po' we had a strict limit for a new apartment, and I was starting to get scared. I'd been running back and forth, had been rejected at a couple of places because of my bad (at the time) credit. Despite all the rejection, I was determined to get out of the noisy, dirty neighborhood behind a VA hospital and a couple blocks away from the freeway that was a major traffic headache away from anything convenient.

A sweet coworker knew of my plight and would bring in copies of the local newspaper. That was the magic trick -- even in this digital age, there are still people who advertise exclusively in newspapers, which is where I found our current place. Fit the budget, so much bigger than our old place, 5 minutes away from exMIL, closer to my mom, very close to work ... we had a winner.

The day we moved in, there was a welcome note from one of the neighbors, along with our mailbox key. She came over, introduced herself, gave me some helpful advice, and offered to take me to the hospital if I needed her to, being as pregnant as I was.

In the two years I've known her, she's been so generous, so kind, so willing to lend a helping hand. A good person through and through, there for us when needed, helping out without being asked, giving to us when she barely has anything to give herself.

Considering the neighborhood and the fact that this is Southern California, she is truly one in a million. She's also the one the psycho neighbor has accused of being the mastermind behind the poisoning plot against her, so that just tells you how crazy that woman is!

Life hasn't been kind to her, though. She's had a rough go of it, and is leaving California next week, bidding farewell to the family she has here, selling all her belongings, declaring bankruptcy, and moving in with her father and stepmother so she can go back to school.

Although I'll miss her friendship, I think it's a great move for her. To her, there is a lot of shame associated with the bankruptcy, but it's time for this to happen. And, it's nothing unusual these days. California has been hit so hard by the recession that people are doing things I've never seen them do before, downsizing drastically and quitting this state altogether. It's a hard time all around.

To help her get through some really tough times, she applied for the food stamp program recently. She can't use the money she receives when she moves out of state, so she offered to take me grocery shopping so I could get some food for around the house.

I never thought the day would come when I would use food stamp money to buy food, but it did. And I am so entirely grateful for it. My financial situation is exceedingly tight these days. Exceedingly. Beyond exceedingly. If I didn't make so much money (hah! relatively that is), I would look into the program for myself.

It makes me wonder, is there a shame to using food stamps? A very small part of me was ... I mean, that' s for REALLY poor people isn't it? That's what I grew up thinking, but the reality is, people are having a hard time in general. I was recently reading an article about food banks - they are extremely overextended these days, as demand rises and people who used to contribute to food banks are needing to utilze their resources.

There is not much else I can say, but thank my friend for her generosity, for her fundamental goodness, and to wish her nothing but the best of luck in her new life. She's going to be missed 'round these parts. Who else will crazy neighbor blame for poisoning her? Me?!?! LOL ....

Label me hungry

(He clearly takes after me. Yep, that's my sugar-loving baby.)



Vegetarian
Low-Carber
Atkins Devotee
Somersizer
Weight Watcher
Bulimic
Anorexic
Compulsive Overeater
Confused

Yes, I've been all of those things in my life, the last on the list the title I'm currently sporting. When it comes to food and my relationship with it, I've kind of given up ... it's one thing I don't want to worry about right now, that is, until my fat pants barely button and the waist line leaves an impression on my torso.


In my life, I've gained and lost hundreds of pounds. No joke. I've been on a diet since I was 11, concerned with my weight since way before that, and never entirely satisfied with my self-image. That's a LONG time to feel that way! I'm tired of it!


You know, it's hard having my lifestyle, and being able to stick with any one of those labels besides my current one requires a certain amount of dedication that I just cannot muster up right now. The thing is ... I already know what works.

When I lost my largest chunk of weight to date, which was right before Baby was conceived, I was a hard-core low carb dieter. Low carb works for me, it just does, but there is a trick to it ... I can never cheat and not be low carb, or else the food floodgates open and it is a wreck mess before you can count to 3. Cheating here and there, eating this and that and making excuses, and then I'm right back to where I began.

Looking back on that last big weight loss, I was so extreme to the point I told people I was diabetic so they would leave me alone and not force carbs on me. I was all kinds of crazy. No carbs whatsoever ... basically meat/beans/tofu and vegetables and fruit, very little dairy, with 2 hours a day of exercise, six days a week. It worked, and I was very fit and very toned, and in the the smallest jean size I've ever been. In fact, I bought a size 26 waist jean the WEEK before I found out I was pregnant. HOW'S THAT FOR LUCK?!?!

When I married Bozo, I was about the same size I am now, and soon afterward got bigger than ever, drowning my marital strife in unlimited amounts of homemade Toll House Cookies, sweets, and savory snacks. It was an unhealthy time, and I ended up with black marks on my neck -- a sign of obesity. Not good at all.

Although I'm so far away from my ideal weight, I'm not at the point where I have black marks on my neck again. However, I need regain some kind of control and get on some kind of a plan -- not Weight Watchers. How can I do that when doing what I know what works is impossible? At my mom's house there's cookies and all sorts of crap. Thinking back on the foods she fed me and my sisters, I think our insides should be pickled by now!

Being "good" means that I'd have to give up so many of the little treats I've snuck into my diet that get me through the tough times. Being "good" means one big thing ... I have to finally face reality on the things I'm covering up with those seemingly innocuous treats that I depend on to get me though the rough patches at work and at home. It's going to be hard.

It's not as though I'm eating as bad as in my really big days, but I'm eating lots of food even when I'm not hungry, and defintiely not exercising as much, or getting enough rest. All that, with a lot of added stress on top, makes it THAT much more difficult. But, I gotta do what I gotta do.

One thing -- intuitively, I realize that I shouldn't be as reckless with food as I've been; I'm starting to recognize the value of what I'm consuming, something I've never done before. Maybe that's a good sign?

What I know, though, is that I have to be in good shape as I'm making the transition to new career/new life. I can't be huffing and puffing and wheezing. Gotta make those new beginnings happen for myself.

Cool, but freaky

This past Saturday, my mom and I took Baby to a free water park near her house. It's truly awesome, a little park in shallow water that is PERFECT for kids to splash around it, and it's open from 7 am to 9 pm every day of the week.

You see that little bucket at the top? It fills up with water and every 5 minutes a bell tolls and then dumps out to a little crowd waiting below. Fab, huh?

But can you imagine living in the surrounding neighborhoods? There are homes to the immediate back of the park. I wonder if the houses can't really see it, because if I had to wake up in the middle of the day and see THAT ... a giganitic bucket pouring out water? Say you're a house guest who's just arrived in the middle of the night and wasn't warned in advance ... there could be a heart attack involved!!!!

I think who ever designed it, must have been smoking some mighty herb, but that's just me.

I gave birth, and have the scar to prove it

After a Twitter DM conversation with another single mommy blogger, I realized a) I've never shared my birth story, and b) there is some grieving involved to my story, some of which I've procrastinated till further notice, some of which I dealt with in those initial, tumulutous months of Baby's arrival.

Yes, yes, I gave birth to a perfectly healthy baby, and yet, I had to go through a grieving process.

The biggest lesson I've learned as a mother is that things never go according to plans. You can build the best birthing plan, have it sealed in an envelope, bring it with you to the hospital, and yet, almost 2 years later, it is still sealed, never having been even brought up in the conversation when you gave birth.

Last year, at a birthday lunch for a coworker, I was talking to two other coworkers, listening in as they were discussing birthing stories, ... one who hadn't ever given birth describing viewing the birth of her sister's child, the other, her more recent delivery, both vaginal deliveries.

They talked about seeing the baby immediately afterward, and I chimed in with, "Yeah, it is so amazing to see them right after they come out." Knowing I had a c-section, an emergency one at that, they both nodded knowingly and one said, "Yeah, it's not the same."

Swoosh. Talk about being hit right in the core. As in I had some what less of an experience giving birth since I had a c-section. I was so offended by their tacit and verbalized dismissal of my birth story. How dare theydiscount my birthing experience! It was every bit as valid and my inital bonding period just as significant as theirs.


It's happened on other occasions ... generally, other mothers don't consider c-sections to be the "real thing", and THAT really hurts, because I can't go back in time and change it, even if I could change it I wouldn't want to, and it also reminds me of my failures, my disappointments that I had to work hard to get past.

I had so wanted to deliver the Baby vaginally. It was even written down in my unopened birthing plan, and then ... well, Baby was cooking in there and he had to come out. I wanted to have that experience of delivering my child then holding him to my chest as soon as he was born. I wanted to know that feeling. And yet, Baby had other plans, as babies so often do.

The Friday before I had him, there was a false alarm. I woke up in a pool of moisture, and I assumed it was my water breaking. Wrong. I think I just peed myself. Ha ha ... tell that to my $500 hospital bill. The following Monday, at 38 weeks pregnant, I woke up at 5 am shivering. It was a very hot August, and yet I could not get warm at all. I felt light contractions and was trying to chart them through my shivers. Brr. I was soooo cold, and took 2 hot showers to warm myself up and was still freezing cold. I then noticed a tell tale about-to-give-birth sign, and had Bozo call the hospital.

Bozo, by the way, had been sleeping on the couch because I was breathing funny that night. 38 weeks pregnant and breathing funny? And he went to sleep on the couch? Yeah. Pretty much.

I wasn't due to start my maternity leave yet ... was supposed to start the next week ... and i told bozo to take me to my doctors office to be checked out, and then I would go back to work. I seriosuly really thought that I was going to be ok, and then waddle to my cubicle. The nurse practitioner was there, took my 102 degree temperature, and told me to hike it over to the hospital next door, where I was checked in.

It was a tense situation from the beginning. They were doing all kinds of things to bring down my fever, calling the doctor for his advise, putting ice packs on me, giving me tylenol, then, breaking my water to put a meter on baby's head. His heart rate was rising, and the temperature inside him was high, as well. At one point, someone said, "He's cooking in there!"

The contractions were awful; as much lamaze practice I did, they overwhelmed me and I found myself clutching at the bed rails, moaning and begging for drugs, and then being told there was one anesthesiologist on call and a WAITING LIST about 3 people long -- damn. Bozo, was sleeping next to me, and by the time the anesthesiologist came, he and the nurse were joking about his snoring.

Things progressed, I was given Pitocin to speed things up, my temperature wasn't getting better, and my mom finally showed up from an hour away. I wasn't in pain, but was resting for a brief hour before the doctor showed up and proclaimed a c-section was the only choice, and had to be done right then. In 15 minutes you'll have a baby, they all said.

Wow. It happened so fast, thinking back on it. I was scared to DEATH ... it really is one of the most terrifying things thats ever happened to me ... mostly because I had to give up control for that time, had to give my body over to the doctor and nurses in the interest of my baby, trust that they wouldn't drop me when they moved me from bed to bed. At one point earlier in the day, one of the nurses was explaining the seriousness of the situation, and I burst into tears wearing the oxygen mask they'd given me, taking it off to tell them, "I just want my baby to be okay."

I was carted off to the OR, given more anesthesia, strapped down, and saw Bozo in the hallway, waving at me. I think the reality of the situation really hit him at that moment. We were about to become parents, for better or for worse. I handed him my camera before I was taken in (that was hard for me to do!) , and I have to say, to his credit he did a very good job taking photos and I love looking back at the moments he captured.

Back to the story: The baby comes out, and I don't hear a peep ... "A beautiful baby boy," I hear the doctor say. "Why isn't he crying?" I ask, and the anesthesiologist says, "give it a few seconds." And then, the tiniest cry. My baby. He's here. I peer around the block around me and get a look at Baby's butt, watch them handing him to the neonatologist. All that drama a few minutes ago and he's perfectly fine.

They wrap him up and put him on my chest... Baby. Hi, I say to him. I love you. How are you? I stroke his cheek, and then so quickly he's taken away from me, not to be seen for hours more. That was probably the most painful part of it. If I could change anything, it would be THAT ... I wanted to see him so badly and was driving the nurses in the recovery room crazy with my demands for more ice and to see him. "He's hungry!" I protested, when they told me he would be ok for a while longer.

And that's the other part of it. Oh, that big disappointment. To add to the sadness of the non-vaginal birth ... and stupid Bozo often saying "I thought your hips were big enough for that" (jerk), breastfeeding was another huge challenge for me. Baby could not latch on no matter what, no matter how many specialists came, and I ended up crying in the middle of the night, screaming at exMIL when a stupid nurse (really she was pretty dumb) told me the baby was failing to thrive and needed formula. They hooked me up to a pump, but the milk just didn't flow, never would, really. As soon as baby had his first bottle of formula, he gulped it down ... he was so hungry ...

We supplemented for a while, I would pump aroudn the clock, and took a hospital rental with me and six weeks later gave up, enduring the painful weaning process, and many tears from that.

I do wish I could have stuck that out longer, but everyone around me was non supportive, especially the two grandmas who both formula fed.

Despite those disppointments, I gained a massive amount of perspective, gained a child, who despite the interesting childbirth and formula feeding, AND a milk allergy (a very stressful story ... but this one has too much of it already), thrived and is entirely healthy and happy today. He was worth all of the pain. Love you, Baby.

Memorial Day

Via, here.

Thank you, troops.

A Single Mom ... A Dossier

Taking a hint from Modern Single (or is that soon-to-be-married?) Mama's Dossier project, I've completed my own dossier, a further peek into the phenomenon known as me. :)

The Dossier of Anonmom

Name:
Highly classified! (except for everyone who knows me on Twitter or Facebook or real life! LOL!)

Alias:
FunnyCurlyCoffeeGal - I think I used this on Yahoo personals back in the day. Back then I thought I was SO clever, because I'm funny, have curly hair, and love coffee. It was the username that brought Bozo to me, so it wasn't THAT clever. Ha ha!

Looking Glass Powers:
Wicked sense of humor
Impressive knowledge of all things pop culture
Slightly psychic

Dress Up Closet:
Electric blue trench coat, flared jeans, sassy shirt to go with, and a fierce pair of heels.

Disguise:
Curly hair that has been straightened. You wouldn't even believe the difference.

Go to Gadget:
Toshiba laptop. Loves it.

Vice:
Men with blue eyes ..... caffeine ... diet sodas ... Stride gum, chewed 3 pieces at a time ... roasted garlic.

Magic Potion:
Limoncello
Starbucks Nonfat Iced Mocha's with Whip
Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf Iced Strawberry & Cream Green Tea.

Battery Recharge Hub:
Google Reader

Bratty Spoiler:
Procrastiation

Owners Manual:
mssinglemama.com
The Four Agreements
The Celestine Prophecy

Weapon:
Honey Brown Eyes
Laugh
Dimples

Nemisis:
Low self-esteem
depression

Secret Ambitions:
To be a SAHM, or at least spend more time with Baby during the week; to embrace me, all of my flaws; to have the courage to do what I want to do, to find a career I love; to have my home/work/love life in harmony; to find that partner who wants to be with me and my child; to not have to worry about money; to be able to have enough money to share with those who need it; to figure out a way to make my loves of anthropology/wedding planning/photography/beauty into a career.

Yeah! You tell 'em! (aka, Today's Inspiration)

“The time has come. We cannot wait anymore. For years we have hidden behind our own small thoughts or let ourselves be held back by other small thinking people who don’t believe in us. Worse still, we have been rejected as marginal, unrealistic, dreamers, idealists, maybe even delusional. Family, friends, colleagues and others (not to mention our own selves) have tried to negate us, eliminate us, and silence us. We will not stand for it anymore.” –Michael Port

Via, here.

Happy Birthday, Sis

Today my youngest sister turns 18, and I am just in shock over the whole thing. 18? That means she's an ADULT. But how can that be??? She's the BABY! Actually, my own baby is the baby of the family, but still, I'll always see my sister as a baby.

Doesn't help that she LOOKS like shes about 12 (and kind of acts like it too - hah!), but my brain is having a hard time computing that the person I once diapered, burped, babysat, and drove to the karate lessons she eventually quit after having a breakdown in the dojo, is now of legal age.

Damn, time flies.

In honor of her birthday, I made her a card incorporating some family photos, including the one below, which is of her and our other sister. While I was more of a mother figure to them, being 11 and 12 respectively when they were born, the two of them are just 16 months apart and very, very close. They fight and argue a lot, but they definitely have that sisterly bond I've always lacked with them.

So, the baby is turning 18 and I had a chat with my mom last night about her present.

"Mom, I don't have anything to give her except for a card."

"How much do you want to spend?"

"That's the thing, I don't have any cash."

"You know what she wants."

"What?"

"YOU know."

"What do you mean? I don't know what you're talking about?"

"YOU KNOW! Remember 2 years ago?"

"Huh?"

She was talking about the reason I cried on the day of my baby shower, and not just small tears, big enormous tears that I held a kleenex up to, so I wouldn't ruin my makeup. Vanity, thy name is woman.

It was about a piece of art she brought backfrom her home country when she visited after her mother's death 3 years ago. It's fabulous ... modern, mixed media, incorporating symbolism of the country's ancient history. I love it. And my mom gifted it to me when our relationship was on the mends during my pregnancy after 2 years of non-communication, along with the bags of girl baby clothes she would hand over to me. Yes, girl baby clothes. She really wanted Baby to be a girl, but rest assured, they love the little boy that he is.

There was a mistake with this gift. Turns out the artwork was actually intended for my baby sister, and the fact that my mom had given it to me caused days of tears. DAYS. She can be quite dramatic, really, but she had fallen in love with the artwork and it belonged to her in her heart.

On the day before my baby shower, my mom had asked me to bring back the artwork, which I was willing to do. However, Bozo had also fallen in love with it, and when he got wind of my plans to return it, caused a stink fest so bad that I still shudder thinking about it, which included a stunt that still makes my heart ache.

If there was one thing I REALLY wanted during my pregnancy, it was for Bozo to come to my baby shower. PLEASE, I would beg him, THAT'S ALL I WANT! It was ok that he refused to come to lamaze, and the one time he did led to the police being called, it was ok that he wouldn't help out with the massive medical bills, I just wanted so much for my then-husband to be with me on my baby shower.

We didn't have a public wedding, and it was my heart's desire that we have this day together. He protested from the beginnning, saying that men NEVER went to baby showers, and his mom backed him up, repeatedly.

So, the day of my shower comes, I put on the dress I bought when I was 3 months pregnant for this very purpose, my beautiful and unusual gold slides, carefully apply my makeup and put on my fancy Mexican filigreed pearl earrings, and take the artwork down from the wall. And Bozo does his stuff, and I end up driving off without him, leaving him on the sidewalk where he's sat down cross legged and pouting.

I get on the phone with exMIL as I'm driving down the freeway to her house, dabbing at my tears, trying to calm myself. I ended up keeping the artwork, explaining it to my mom who somehow smoothes it over to baby sister.

When Bozo left, my mom made sure to tell me ... DON'T LET BOZO TAKE THE ARTWORK! To his credit, he didn't despite his threats. And so, my mom is right ... it's time to give the artwork back to its rightful owner. As much as I love it, it doesn't belong to me and baby sister deserves it. After all, she's not just turning 18, she's graduating from high school.

Happy birthday, baby sister.

Oh, MA!

Yesterday I gave my mom my Canon point-and-shoot camera. It was kind of hard for me to hand it over to her, but considering that it was my fault her one-month old Olympus flew out of her hands to meet a sad death on the pavement, it was the very least I could do.

Even though I'm pretty exclusive to my Nikon D40 these days, I kept the Canon in my purse at all times because it is portable and I can take video clips on it. I do have a camcorder, but the small size of the Canon and the fact I can hook it up to the computer and download the video quickly kept me hanging on to it.

It was the Saturday before Mother's Day, and my mom treated me and baby to a trip to the zoo and lunch at Pat and Oscars. She had her new little camera with her and was so excited about how great the pictures were, what a steal it was. It was all of $80 at Costco and considering the price, did take great photos, especially in comparison to the stone age 1.0 megapixel camcorder/digital camera she bought six years ago.

She was taking pictures of baby in front of a fountain, and I tried to hand her my camera a couple of times so she could take a picture of the both of us ... it is SO RARE for me to be in a photo with baby, and we had a picture in front of the same fountains before, so I thought it would be cute.

Apparently, I have the grace of an elephant and managed to bump her new camera out of her hands and poof ... we took it to a nearby Ritz that was closing, and the snide salesman told me it wouldn't be worth the price of repair. She sent the camera into the manufacturer and still no dice ... it will cost $70 to repair. Not worth it.

And so, after taking a look at pics I took on my point-and-shoot versus the ones I take now, I realized the grown up thing to do is to give my mom my camera. When I bought it, it was a HUGE deal (and a lot of money), and it served its purpose for me,and now will serve it's purpose for her. I DO have that camcorder, and I will just start using it more often.

What is love, if you don't give it away?

Morroccan Stew - Adventures in Cooking

Source of this beautiful meal? Smitten Kitchen: Squash and Chickpea Moroccan Stew

As a single mom on a time and money budget, I'm always looking for recipes that won't use up much of both.

Via The Pioneer Woman, I learned about Smitten Kitchen, a blog run by a husband and wife documenting their culinary adventures in New York City. Their photos are a delight to the eye and always very interesting. For intance, this blood orange tart? Holla! At some point I'll make it, which is what I say about the majority of the recipes I encounter.

Mostly I look on in lust and hunger at the delectable recipes I encounter online, knowing that with my time and space limitations, cooking like that is just not possible. If I do find a recipe that seems feasible, I print it out and put it behind a plastic sheet protector in a little binder for future reference.

Upon initially discovering this particular recipe, it seemed like a winner, but somehow I had the impression it involved a jumbo pack of chicken legs which I bought at the grocery store last week for this very purpose. Not so, apparently, and it's actually vegetarian - not really because chicken broth is involved, but you can always substitute vegetable broth if you ARE a vegetarian.

Results? Amazing. Although I wasn't supposed to put the diced preserved lemon in the stew while it was cooking, it lent a nice kick to the flavor. Why did it take me so long to make this? Fundamentally, I'm just a huge procrastinator and I rush through reading things sometimes. I really need to work on that.

I did make a jar of preserved lemons, via this site, and it was pretty darned easy. You need to let them sit for at least 3 weeks before using them. It's an optional step (as is the saffron), but did I realize that? Of course not.

Reminds me of when I was in 5th grade and a teacher gave my class a quiz one day. She told us to read the instructions and we got started filling in the answers. All of us, except one, who actually READ the instructions, which had a line at the end that said don't write anything down. That smart student who acutally paid attention became a pharmacist ... isn't it reassuring to know that about a pharmacist?

It was quick - about 30 minutes total, easy, and it's currently residing in the dutch oven in my fridge. The dutch oven that is NOT Le Creuset, mind you, but reminscent of something that would have appeared in Ma Ingall's kitchen on Little House of the Prairie.

That's just how I roll.

A Day In The Life ...

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

The song we all need to listen to right now

There may come a time, a time in everyones life
where nothin seems to go your way
where nothing seems to turn out right
there may come a time, you just cant seem to find your way
for every door you walk on to, seems like they get slammed in your face
thats when you need someone, someone that you can call.
and when all your faith is gone
feels like you cant go on
let it be me
let it be me
if its a friend that you need
let it be me
let it be me
feels like your always commin on home
pockets full of nothin and you got no cash
no matter where you turn you aint got no place to stand
reach out for something and they slap your hand
now i remember all to well
just how it feels to be all alone
you feel like youd give anything
for just a little place you can call your own
thats when you need someone, someone that you can call
and when all your faith is gone
feels like you cant go on
let it be me
let it be me
if its a friend you need
let it be me
let it be me

Make 'em laugh!

No doubt about it, times are a little bit on the rough side right now.

Ever since Sunday, when crazy neighbor came to the door and then the earthquake, I've been completely unmotivated to do anything productive. i'm not sure why ... it was the straw that broke the camels life, and work has been the SHITS since I stepped in the door on Monday. There is a big knot in the middle of my back that just won't go away.

Yes, I've been very actively job hunting, but as far as cleaning, cooking, and prepararing for life in general? Forget it. Each week I take a suitcase full of clothing to my mom's house and although it's usually put away by now, this week it basically doesn't need to be repacked.

The good news is that as a parent who is responsible for a small child, the sadness cannot stay around long by default. I have things that need to be done, a child to care for. I've been doing a LOT of walking in the park near work lately ... helps clear up the clouds and ease that knot right in my back.

Also, I'm depending on the power of laughter more than ever. There's absolutely nothing like a good, long belly laugh to help wash away sadness. Here are some of my favorite funny things from around the web -- hope they make you smile.

An absolute classic from SNL and Cheri O'Teri ... Simmah Down NOW! I miss her!

Watch more SpikedHumor videos on AOL Video

SNL Parody of American Idol


American Idol Parody - Click here for funny video clips

Jimmy Farrell as AI contestant Jayson Marks (this one is short, but SLAYS me)




Weird Al, White and Nerdy Can't embed, but you must watch.

Will Ferrell's Crazy Landlady Pearl

The Landlord from Will Ferrell

30 Rock: Therapy, Jack Style

So, today ...

... I've been thrown under the bus by various coworkers a total of 3 times. It's barely 1 pm.

Barf bag, please.

I finally realized why I feel so empathetic towards's Bozo's friends's sister ... the one who is mentally challenged.

She keeps writing this: I'm not stupid, I'm smart, everyone thinks I"m stupid, but I'm not.

That's exactly how I feel at work. Seriously.

Yia Yia Cleopatra

Baby is a true Heinz 57 ... a true American boy, the result of a mixture of many cultures that could only have happened in this place and this time.

Under the umbrella term of my culture, I'm a medley of different ethnicities - Turkish, Russian, Georgian, Persian, possibly even Indian. On his father's side, baby is made up of Greek, German, Swiss, Polish, Mexican (European and Aztec), French, Portuguese, and English bloods all intermixed.

Whew.

Somehow, the universe made it so a few years ago these cultures collided via internet dating and produced a heckuva cute kid. That's the good news.

The other good news is that as a result of his varied background, Baby has a slew of interesting ancestors, such as Yia Yia Cleopatra. Yia Yia is the Greek word for grandmother, and what we call his great grandmother, born Cleopatra in Tacoma, Washington, to Greek immigrant parents who were match made in America during WWI, between Cleopatra's dad and his commanding officer.

The officer took a liking to the scrappy Greek immigrant who was shot at 2 times, had a bullet lodged in his forehead, and yet managed to keep on going, and said he had a daughter and bride in Greece for this son of goat herders, who had come to america with the sole intention of pursiuing a career as a cowboy.

Funny, huh?

The scrappy Greek solider/wanna-be cowboy ended up working for the railroads for his career, and was able to provide an excellent life for his bride and their daughter, who would be an only child after her mother had to have a primitive and painful hysterectomy that had her bedridden for most of Cleopatra's first year.

Raised in a Greek neigbhorhood, Cleopatra didn't learn English until she was about 4 or 5, when she was taken under the wings of 2 neighborhood girls. She had many friends, including a naughty young Greek boy with blonde hair and blue eyes named Christopher.

His antics were legendary, and in the beginning, they couldn't stand each other, enemies until high school, when feelings changed and they fell in love. Shortly after high school, Christopher went off to fight in World War II, where he was stationed on a ship in the South Pacific.

After he returned from war, Cleopatra and Christopher married and started their family. They gave birth to four children, 3 boys and 1 girl, but only 2 survived - a son, and their daughter. All the love Cleopatra and Christopher had for each other couldn't change the fact that the combination of their genes produced sickly children who didn't make it past a few weeks.

To add to the heartbreak of losing their children, Christopher contracted an intestinal disease from his war time service, one that could surely be easily reparied today. As it was, he suffered for years and finally passed away when his youngest child, his daughter, was 7 years old, leaving Cleopatra a single mother.

Cleopatra's parents moved in with her, helped raise her children as she worked for the events department of a prestigous university. Today, she lives in a retirement complex for Greeks in the San Fernando Valley, a meager but happy life, on Christopher's army pension. She misses her husband very dearly, still wears her wedding ring, and often reminisces on the past.

She feels closer to her Christopher these days. She doesn't know it, but her health is in an alarming state of decline -- recent blood tests indicate cancer is very possibly present in her body, but her daughter has decided not to pursue further tests ... her health is very delicate and aggressive tests would surely kill her. exMIL says she seems healthy ... she's gained 5 pounds, which my mom pointed out might be the weight of a tumor.

Bozo and Cleopatra don't get along very well. They love each other, but can't be around each other. there was a time I was 4 months pregnant and we went to visit her with exMIL. i went to use the restroom, and by the time I came out, Cleopatra and exMIL were in tears, and Bozo was storming out.

You don't understand, Bozo would tell me, she's stupid, she doesn't understand anything, she frittered the family money away. if it weren't for her, we would be rich. I can't stand her.

Oh, Bozo.

So, as she's slowly fading aawy from us, we know it's time to spend more time with her, let her visit more often with her great grandson ... her fourth great-grandchild. When she's gone and baby asks about her, I'm going to tell him he's descended from a long line of strong people, and especially her ... a strong, single mother who loved her family fiercely, lived a good life, and believed that in the end, everything works out.

It's the truth.

Today's Inspiration

Another day, another dollar, a new attitude. Here's some stuff I found in my emails this morning ... hope it helps you today! Let's make it happen, folks!

-- A message from The Universe, Via Tut.com (sign up for their daily emails if you already haven't!):

My wish for you is that you succeed beyond your wildest imagination. That you find love in places that astound you. And that you have friends who call you "just because." I dream that you go barefoot more than you wear shoes. That you play as hard as you work. And that you laugh more than you cry. I want you to set the bar high, but not too high. To reach for the stars, but with your toes on the ground. And to never, ever stop dreaming. But most of all, I wish for your happiness. And these dreams of mine are what started it all.

-- "Most folks are about as happy as they make up their minds to be." Abraham Lincoln

-- On changing your mood: Be by yourself, re-energize your battery - A lot of times, these moods are caused by doing too much and expecting too much from ourselves.

- Go outside and enjoy the fresh air, and take a 15 minute walk
- Go for a 15 minute drive, and listen to your favorite channel
- Go to a quiet spot and pray, even if you just sit in your car
- Read for 15 minutes, or at least one page from a positive book, a book that makes you smile
- Write for 15 minutes in your journal
- Think about 5 good things in your life
- Call a good Friend who loves you
- Take a 30 minute power nap
- Do something for yourself that makes you feel pampered
- Turn on the music that makes you feel happy
- Make plans for something fun, to do in the future
- Get around positive people
- Do something creative with your hands
- Do something that brings back good memories, like cooking, going to a special place you used to go when you were a kid, listening to your high school music.
- Do something that makes you appreciate your life, like spend time with those who are less fortunate.

-- Meditate on: whatever things are true, whatever things [are] noble, whatever things [are] just, whatever things [are] pure, whatever things [are] lovely, whatever things [are] of good report, if [there is] any virtue and if [there is] anything praiseworthy--meditate on these things. Philippians 4:8

Dear Universe. You owe me. Big time.

Lordy, lordy, lordy.

Let's just say that yesterday's adventures involved me calling the police. And then there was a 5.0 magnitude earthquake epicentered less than 5 miles from my house.

Mountains, here we come.

What I'm thinking is that I must have some bad karma stored up from a previous life, or else the universe is lighting a fire under my ass. Get a new job, Anonmom. Get a new home, too, while you're at it. The time has come for many changes.

So, I was at home after a lovely, much-needed 2 mile walk while baby was with his dad for the afternoon. I took a shower, had a snack, was looking at my Michael's coupon, getting ready to head out the door, when I heard someone BANGING at my screen door.

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG.

It was the crazy neighbor, screaming all kinds of this and that at me about why am I trying to poison her, why am I trying to kill her ... and then, DO UNTO OTHERS AS YOU HAVE THEM DO TO YOU! DO UNTO OTHERS AS YOU HAVE THEM DO TO YOU!

Why? Because she's convinced I - a single mom who barely has time to brush her own teeth - am part of a nefarious plot to spray bug spray around her apartment to poison her. Crazy? Uh, huh.

She was going on and on and on and on, even after I closed the door on her. All I got out was:

GET ON YOUR MEDS, CRAZY!

and

LEAVE ME ALONE! I'M CALLING THE POLICE!

To which her response was, "OH, GO RIGHT ON AHEAD!"

At that point, I was shaking. I mean, really, it was unbelievably scary to have someone come to your door, disrupt your privacy, and yell at you over something she's imagining in her head. I called the landlady really fast and left a message, and then called 911. I have no idea what this woman is capable of, and the fact that she is SO CONVINCED I am going out of my way to spray bug spray under her door in my spare time, makes me wonder what kinds of things she could make up?

Ay, yi, YI!

The police came fast, and I ran outside to wave them down. I hid behind a bush while about 5 of them went to talk to her. At the end, they told me she is a off her rocker, that I did the right thing by calling them, that I should get a restraining order, avoid her, and they told her to take this up with the landlord. I had them walk me to the car and on the way back had Bozo follow me, just in case.

I called the landlady and she was very understanding, said she'd call her attorney for advice, and that she would have a talk with crazy in the next couple days.

She's a paranoid schizophrenic, and I don't need an MD to diagnose that. Neither did the police. All I can do is THANK GOD that Baby wasn't around during her rampage. Oh, my goodness. I would have died right there if he had to witness that.

The thing about the crazy? It sincerely ruined my day - I mean, I had so many things to do and I'm ANGRY at her for involving me in her crazy reality, especially since she doesn't work and stays home all day, and I have a zillion things to do. I ended up hiding out at exMILs house for a while, and when I got home, all was quiet until ....

8:30 pm, and what sounds like someone slamming the door. I assume it's crazy, but then it goes on for a bit and I realize ... EARTHQUAKE!!!!!

I grab baby, hold him in the middle of the room until it's all over, then spend the next half hour trying to tear him away from the window (his new favorite spot) in case of aftershocks. It was a whopper of a quake -- 5.0 magnitude, epicentered about 2 miles away from me. Eeep!

We're all ok, shaken but not stirred, and that's what matters. And I sure learned my lesson about opening doors to anyone. Bah!

To counter the craziness...

Baby at the beach ... ah, so lovely and relaxing and NOT crazy. He had a splashing good time. :) (notice the pollution in the ocean?)

The thing about crazies ...

There are days, like today, when I am so tempted to just pack it up for reals and move to the mountains where I will live off the land and get back to nature. It will be better for the baby, and I think we'll all be much happier.


Of course, I kid, but the feeling is legit. As wonderful as life is (and it IS), it can also be extremely frustrating, really tiring, and there's always just something to deal with. I guess that's just part of the package.


Remember this little incident from a few months ago? When there was a supposed attempted break-in in my teensy apartment building? Sure, it's behind a trailer park, but it's safe and there's never any problems. They might be loud and annoying, but that's the extent of it.

Funny, but the recent antics of the neighbor who reported the attempted burglary have convinced me (and everyone else) that it was a bunch of hooey. Why? She is a severely paranoid individual who is clearly off her meds.

Now, I often say stuff like that in jest, as in regards to people in my life who do crazy things, like: "Sybil needs to get on her meds!"

But this time, it's SERIOUS! I, and by default, the rest of our apartment are living in "A Beautiful Mind" with Russell Crowe, and I have been implicated in crazy's imaginary problems.

Get this -- she thinks that her next door neighbor is spraying bug spray into her apartment to make her and the neighborhood cat sick, that her neighbor is breaking into her apartment,and that she's seen ME and another neighbor spray bug spray UP to her apartment from downstairs, because we're part of the plan.

Ok, crazy -- leave me out of it! Like I have better things to do with my time than spray bug spray into her apartment? And apparently, she's going to call the "chemical detectives" to come over and test the air and they'll be able to tell that the chemicals are coming directly from my (and the other neighbors') apartments. Because we have nothing better to do that try to poison her.

Clearly OFF her meds. My only concern is that she'll try to do something to us ... like try to hurt us in some way, but another neighbor who's brother is the same way says they're pretty harmless. I hope so.

Well, all I can say is that is just a little more incentive for me to move forward in my life and make more money so I can move out of this rinky dink apartment complex that is just a hop, skip, and a jump away from a topless bar, and yet costs over $1000 a month. This is the reality of California.

Drool-inducing photo of the day

If I ever get married again, I want a dress just like this. (Yes, I'm infliciting my wedding planning obsession on you.)

Via the extraordinarily talented Kelli Nicole.

Interesting things I've found online

From CNN.com ... Grab your coffee/tea/what have you and discuss!

Mothers' talk is key to kids' social skills, study says

(CNN) -- Mothers often get blamed for the way their children turn out, and a new study gives additional weight to that accusation.


Mothers have opportunities to teach empathy every day, psychologists say.

Research from the United Kingdom shows that the way mothers talk to their children at a young age influences their social skills later in childhood.

The study, funded by the Economic and Social Research Council, found that children whose mothers often talked to them about people's feelings, beliefs, wants and intentions developed better social understanding than children whose mothers did not.

In the first part of the study, mothers were asked to talk to their 3-year-old children about a series of pictures depicting scenes such as a child coming out of school looking happy and people waiting in line. Children whose mothers talked about the mental state of characters in the picture tended to perform better on social understanding tasks, the researchers found.

The effect persisted when the researchers revisited the families -- 57 of them remained in the study until the end -- on an almost yearly basis. The authors controlled for socioeconomic status and IQ of the mothers and found that these factors were not as relevant.

"You can predict even from when the children are 3 or 4 what their social understanding will be like when they're 8 or 9," said Nicola Yuill, lead author and senior lecturer in psychology at the University of Sussex in England.

This effect becomes weaker from ages 10 to 12, perhaps because as children get older, they spend less time at home, and their peers and teachers influence them more, she said.

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The 12-year-olds, however, generally did as well as their mothers on social understanding tasks, indicating that children at this age can be as "socially sophisticated" as adults, the authors said.

For one test of social understanding, children 8 and older watched clips of the British television series "The Office" and were prompted to answer questions about the situations: for example, the way the main character, David Brent, embarrasses people without realizing it. Children also judged other people's feelings from pictures and explained what they would do in hypothetical situations involving other people's feelings.

"The communication of empathy is just about the most important thing you can do," said Nancy Weisman, a psychologist in Marietta, Georgia, who was not involved with the study. "Every single moment of the day, you have situations in which you can teach this."

Yuill and colleagues are interested in training parents to use these talking skills and seeing what effect that has. For example, they may show videotapes modeling the way mothers communicate "mental state" talk to children.

When they began the study 14 years ago, researchers focused on mothers because it was difficult to find fathers who spent as much time at home with their young children. It may be easier to find fathers to participate today, Yuill said.

Weisman recommends to her patients that they use opportunities such as television shows and movies to talk to children about what the characters may be feeling as a result of the actions on screen. If someone is yelling at the supermarket, this is another chance to talk to a child about other people's feelings, she said.

It's essential for both mothers and fathers to give children a vocabulary of feelings, said Dawn Huebner, a psychologist in Exeter, New Hampshire, who sees children ages 6 to 12. Children don't always realize what their emotions are and need to have words to describe them in order to become more empathetic, she said.

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Labeling other people's feelings is also important, Huebner said.

"Let's say a young child grabs a toy away from another young child. It's helpful for parents to say something like, 'That makes him sad when you take it,' " rather than saying 'don't grab' or 'stop it,'" Huebner said.

But social understanding does not guarantee good behavior, the authors said. Children who showed the most sophisticated social skills in this study also behaved the most negatively toward their mothers in the team task of steering a model car around a race track. This suggests that social understanding isn't everything and must be used in beneficial ways, Yuill said.

This negative behavior probably came about because if children feel that they can label their feelings, they're more comfortable expressing a wide range of emotions, said Laurie Zelinger, a licensed psychologist in Cedarhurst, New York, who was not involved with the study.

The finding underscores the need to not only talk about feelings and mental states but to also indicate to children how to deal with those feelings, she said.

"It would be up to the parent to set some structure and some boundaries, to say, 'No, you can't hurt me,' but it's also a teachable moment," she said. "When you feel angry, you feel like banging into things, you feel like running your car over mine, but you can't hurt me."

Things that inspire me, part 4b

Music I like just because. Not really any rhyme or sentimental reason, just music I truly enjoy and have listened to repeatedly over the years. And, of course, listen as much as I want, as long as it doesn't interfere with baby's "Car Songs for Kids" time. Ah, I love being single.

This post is epic in length, watch out.

Matisyahu, "King Without a Crown"



RuPaul, "Supermodel". OH YES I DID!




When I was in 10th grade, the grunge movement had fully invaded the US music scene ... it was a rough time in our musical lives, right before the Spice Girls, boy bands, and Britney Spears invaded our audio space. Instead of buying flannel and doc martens, I rebelled and declared a moratorium on modern music that started somewhere in 10th grade and ended in 12th, with a mix tape of Alanis Morisette and Presidents of the United States, gifted by a dear friend of mine.

In the meanwhile, I immersed myself in the classics. Judy Garland, Tony Bennet, Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Ella Fitgerald, old time musicals... I was a virtual rat pack-ette. This was also around the time i was prolific musician in my own right (yeah, right ... tapes of me singing ... black mail material floating around my parents house is more like it). One artist who's music I fell deeply in love with was Louis Prima of "Jump Jive n Wail", and King Louis from the "Jungle Book" fame. Not the music of his later years, done mainly with one of his wives, Keely Smith, but the stuff he recored in the beginning of his career in the '30's. At a family trip to the Virgin mega store, I picked up a $5 cd and I still listen to it today. One of the few cds I can listen to all the way through. There's a sweetness to his voice, a joy deep within that I respond to. Give him a listen ... cute stuff.




Sammy Davis Jr's Country Album .. not many know about this, but it is a pure joy to me.This isn't particularly country sounding, but it's one of my favorites from the album.



In retrospect, a lot of my favorites come via my mom, who would randomly pick out tapes or cds at the sale bin or at the library that I ended up stealing from her. Not counting the fact that she used to LOVE Color Me Badd's "I wanna sex you up" and would sing along to it in public places in the early 90's (I am still SO embarrased about that), she has a hidden talent for picking out good tunes.

George Michael - I am a completely unapologetic fan. Completely. No apologies coming from me, excuses about dorkiness, because HE JUST ROCKS.



Amr Diab .... sure, I don't understand any of the Arabic lyrics, but i do know that this man's voice must be what angels sound like. he has such a remarkable gift ... takes me back to my belly dancing days and is guaranteed to get me out of the chair to bust a shimmy.




Paul Oakenfold, "Faster Kill Pussycat" .. because who knew Brittney Murphey (aka Tai from Clueless) could sing like that?



Bill Withers, "Lovely Day (remix)"



And, finally, for the song I've loved for the longest time. Billy Joel's "The Longest Time". I remember first seeing the music video at age 5 in my family's basement in Tennessee ... must have been very early MTV, and loving it back then. It's on my ipod now and I go back to it often.

Something I can't not share

A former co-worker and her fiancee have one of the most adorable blogs I've ever seen. They're both foodies ... he's a chef and she's a baker ... and together they're documenting their culinary adentures.

The blog and their commentary is so stinking cute. I can't take it.

Playing basketball with my son

Baby was supposed to be a girl, and her name was going to be Ruby. I was absolutely conviced of it very early in my pregnancy, despite my lack of morning sickness which led my mom to declare, "you're having a boy!". A boy? Me? No ... could never be. What would I do with a boy anyway??? I had 2 sisters, not much experience with boys besides Bozo. A boy? No .... And then, at my 16 week sonogram, the tech said straight away, "It's a boy! See? There's his scrotum!"


My boy. My absolutely darling son.

Weekday mornings are generally rough. Depending on when I wake up/when baby wake up, I end up dragging him out of bed asleep and taking him to the car with a soaking diaper and pjs before I rush off to exMILs house 5 minutes away. It's intrinsically frantic ... going here, going there, did I take this, did I take that, but I have to admit the space between waking baby up and putting him in the car is one of my favorites, only because it's the only time baby lets me get a full on cuddle going,. Being a strong-willed boy, he usually totally resists me (and always has). It's adorable and as much as a rush as I'm in, I give in to the cuddle and hold him in my arms for a couple of minutes, smelling his golden curls that smell like either baby shampoo or last nights dinner, rubbing his back, and just loving my sleepy baby and his waking up noises.

I don't think he'll ever not be my baby ... maybe when he's all grown up I won't have the constant urge to pinch his dimpled cheeks, but I can't even imagine that happening.


One thing that fascinates me about watching my child grow is that it's a huge insight into human behavior. How he's drawn to certain things, how he's compelled to engage in certain activities on his own will, and doing them very early on in his live. For instance, ever since he was a tiny baby, he's loved the outdoors, loved gardening ... so silly to see a 4 month old grabbing for a flower or random leaf, but its true ... its what he did.


Same thing for basketball, when i take him to the park it's the first thing he wants to do ... to watch people playing basketball. He's mesmerized by the game, can't keep his eyes off the court, standing in place peeking past the fence, dancing, with a huge smile on his face.


Maybe he gets that from me.


When I was in elementary school, I was very briefly on the basketball team ... the number I chose was 36, the same as Jon, a cute boy from our rival christian school ... oh, Jon #36 ... even though he lived 30 miles away, my chubby and insecure 11 year old self had hope.


Even though I made only one basket in my entire basketball playing career, I just loved the game, and always have. It's just fun, plain and simple.

When I was on a 2 hour lunch break from jury duty yesterday and on the way home, I passed by the park exMIL frequents with baby and took the chance that they would be there. Luckily they were! When Baby saw me, he had the biggest grin on his face and came running in my direction. Oh, good times.

ExMIL was talking to one of the moms and Baby led me directly to the basketball court.
A couple was playing with their baby in a stroller on the sidelines. Baby must have been feeling brave because instead of staying behind the fence, he walked on into the court, found an abandoned ball, grabbed it, and started heading to the hoops.

I grabbed the ball from him and started playing the game, much to his delight. The court was filled with his laughter and even more so when I picked him up and made baskets with him in my arms. Big old belly laughs from my little boy with the gorgeous golden curls and tanned skin.

Even though I was wearing a skirt, cardigan, and flip flops (this is California, people), we had a good old time. I never thought the day would come I would play basketball with my son. As much as there are still so many things about raising a boy that I am clueless about, the fact that I have a little basketball partner thrills me to no end.

Playing basketball with my son.


Joy. Pure joy.

Shoes that are as tacky as I am

... and I love 'em.

Drool-inducing photo of the day

From Kelli Nicole's blog.

Hello, lottery? Can I win big at some point so I can go to this place?

At jury duty today

Lovely. Actually, kind of fun. I've gotten more reading done than in ages and that in itself is incredible. Incredible!

Also just saw a former coworker ... funny. Was called to a jury, but excused for financial hardship (true) and am back in jury room, where they have internet and wireless.

Will be a fun day. :)

Exhausted, gym tales, and some updates

Exhausted:

As a working single parents, sometimes I wonder ... will the day come when we actually catch up on our sleep?

There are times - such as now, after yesterday's 3 am wakeup call from Sir Sleep Not threw my schedule irrepairably off track, when I've been drifting off and dozing and have given up on the pretense of keeping house or preparing food in advance. Overrated, I think, even though I know I need to.

So, better nights of sleep at some point??? I have hope.
---
Gym Tales:

I've been going to Bally's Total Fitness for about five years now, and lucked out at this current job because there's a branch just down the street. Yes, it's a shoebox of a gym with old machines that caters to the Early Bird Special crowd, but it gets my needs met and on the cheap.

The thing about gyms that I love (really, love - I'm not being sarcastic for once) is that you're guaranteed to bump into at least one crazy at any given time. I honestly don't know why no one has made a sitcom about gyms, because they are a minefield of comedic material.

For instance, at this gym, there is an older man whom I like to refer to as "You're So Vain". He spends a lot of time in the weight area prancing about, not really lifting weights, but telling some of the guys at the gym about the perils of being a singer/songwriter. I mean, really, he has it HARD in life. Because he's a (pause, and glance in the mirror and then around to see that everyone's looking at him) SINGER/SONGWRITER and he get's TONS OF EMAILS FROM AUTOGRAPH SEEKERS and goes on SO MANY AUDITIONS. SO MANY AUDITIONS.

It's hilarious ... who is this guy anyway? I'm dying to find out, but I don't want to seem like a groupie or anything. What I really want to know is what the heck is he doing in a broke-down old gym in a suburb of Los Angeles? There are so many nicer gyms in the area. Funny. Maybe he can't modulate the tone of his voice because he's always practicing his voice projection skills?

---
Random updates:

Friend in a sad situation who wants desperately to be a writer: I'm working on her book, still going to send it anonymously. It's coming together.

Work sadness: Resume is being sent out, I'm in control of the situation. It's going to be better than ok - I can feel it.

Baby - bigger, cuter, and naughtier by the second. I'm more in love with that little monkey than ever. Even though he's figured out how to climb and stand up on the TV stand.

Bozo - leaving VERY soon. I've suggested that along with exMIL, we go to Knotts Berry Farm in a couple of weeks, since this is something he always has talked about doing with Baby.

Weight - I've been getting better about realizing what I'm stuffing down my throat. Lots of emotional eating lately, but I haven't gained or lost either way. Walking 3-4 times a week, as I can do it, weights once a week as usual. I need to give up SOMETHING in my diet, and it's got to be portion sizes.

Blog: I have a draft of a post about flatulence humor. I think I need to grow up and not press "publish post".

Movin' right along, folks.

How do you determine this?

Found on a Craigslist job posting:

Please NO whiners or complainers. People unable to work effictively " under extreme pressure" need not apply. ONLY those seriously commited to being a loyal member of our award winning, fast paced, TEAM oriented, forward thinking culture should apply.

Translation: We will chain you to your desk. Forget sunshine and bathroom breaks. Oh, and you'll have to chip in for the coffee in the break room. Scratch that, there actually isn't a breakroom, because breaks don't exist!

Read this

ModernSingleMama's series on Strong Men Raised By Single Moms

Jon

Dru

Ron

Thank you, Morgan.

Exciting news ....

My little silver Nissan Versa will out of the shop by Friday.

eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

That's all. :)

Something I needed to read today

My cute, adorable, wonderful son did something very special today, even though it happened at the most ungodly hour of 3 AM. Like I’ll say a zillion times, it is just incredible to see small children grow, and it happens in warp speed time. I can’t believe he figured out how to do it, but he got out of bed, dragged me out of bed, pulled me to the kitchen, where he opened the refrigerator and handled me the milk so I could make him a bottle.

How’d he get this big???!!!

I tried going back to sleep in the bed, but he used the opportunity to use my head as a foot stool, and when I opened my eyes he was throwing anything and everything he could find behind the headboard. Toddlers.

Seeing as sleep was impossible, I gave in and took him to the living room and turned on some Elmo and tried to nap on the sofa, which wasn’t that successful, since he kept climbinig up me and up every piece of furniture he could reach.

At 4:30 am I gave up and did some reading online. I wanted to find more about workplace bullies and found this gem of an article and some great life advice I surely needed today:

Some of the things you should never do, adds Covey, are wallow in the pain a bully boss causes or gossip with co-workers about how bad he or she is.

“It’s not morally right to become a judge of someone else. It’s like a cancer, people full of complaining and criticizing. It begins to affect the body, affect relationships with loved ones,” he says.

You're totally right, Stephen Covey. The only one who can judge you is above you.

Windows open where others close

If there's one thing I've learned from this lifetime, it's that change is inevitable, and you can't resisit it. Whatever you want to call what this is, this period of my life is one of change, a time of movement, a time of new beginnings.

And I'm ok with that now.

Last week I wasn't. I cried, got angry, vented on this blog. But you know what I realized? I can't fight what is going to happen. If you fight reality long enough, you become Mrs Havisham from Great Expectations, and I don't want to be hobbling around in my 80s wearing a wedding gown. Not really, but you get the picture.

So, it's time. Time for me to move on up. It's scary, for sure, but not a bad thing. In fact, I predict that in a few short months, I will be having a good old laugh over this. One of those raucous, rolling laughs where you can't breathe and you cry tears of happiness. Yeah.

As for Bozo ... I'm not mad at him anymore. A little part of me was very inflamed for a while there ... how could he leave his son, I wondered? Even a barely involved dad is better than no dad, right? What I was really thinking is ... how can he leave me, again?

Even though we're divorced, I guess a part of me had an inkling that he had a smidgen of loyalty left ... and wouldn't leave us to fend for ourselves. He's always been the one I call if I need someone to pick up something late at night for Baby, or for that credit card favor. Even when I got in that fender bender a few weeks ago, he was one of the first people I called, just because.

One of the ex-in-laws recently asked me if i'd seen her comment on on Bozo's facebook on a picture from his time in Lebanon. Well, I don't necessarily want to be his "friend" on Facebook, and really, do I want to relive pictures that happened during one of the most devestating experiences of my life? Bueller?

And so it goes. Bye bye, Bozo. Time for both of us to move on. I'll be ok, baby will be ok, Bozo will be ok, and in the end, we'll all have more positive feelings toward each other. It's a good thing.

Looking back at this blog from just a year ago, I was going through the divorce, was just served papers, and was dealing with all those emotions. It seems like a zillion years ago, really. Like that happened to a different person. If that's how last year's devestation felt, I can't even imagine how different I'll feel next year this time.

That's the beauty of it all.

Drool-inducing photo of the day

Beautiful photos always cheer me up ....

From Jessica Claire's blog.

So do episodes of The Office and 30 Rock on Hulu.com, especially this one, because that was so me and my most faithful blog reader 8 years ago, when we worked for ABC radio. He's the best ... we were mutually bored out of our minds and needing a break from the crazy sales people we worked with.

We'd call each other on the phone, or send a quick email when the coast was clear, I'd go down the stairs from my 3rd floor office to his on the first floor, and he would pump the jams and we'd get our dance on. Big smiles just at the memory of those silly times. :)

This one's for you, SGA!

I can't understand ...

... why anyone would do something like this.

It's an all too common headline these days.

Happiness: Privledge, right, or a choice?

I have this cubicle neighbor with the most unfortunate habit of snorting loudly out of his nose after every other word. No lie.

"Yeah (SNORT). What they're (SNORT) doing is so unethical (SNORT, SNORT). "

To call it annoying is an understatement. All the livelong day. That on top of everything else that's been going on got me wondering ... happiness. What is it all about?

Can I say that I'm entirely happy with my life? No. Do I want to be happy in all parts of my life? Absolutely.

Wondering what it's all about, I posted a quick poll on my Twitter feed. Happiness - is it a privlege or a right?

The first answer I received? "Neither - it's a choice. "

Today, and every day hereafter, I choose to be happy.

Well, it's good to know what I'm dealing with now

Via here ...

Bullies do a lot of damage in organizations. They make subordinates run scared. They put people in a protective mode, which interferes with the company's ability to generate innovation. They don't build in perpetuation of the organization, says Levinson. "It keeps you in a state of psychological emergency. And add to it the rage you feel towards the bully and a sense of self-rage for putting up with such behavior." These are hardly prime conditions for doing your best work--any work.

As with kids, bully bosses have blind spots. They don't see themselves accurately. They see themselves as better than others--which only acts to justify their bullying behavior--a feeling reinforced by promotion....

Any activity that repeatedly demeans you or is discourteous. "Whenever you're dissed, you're dealing with a bully," says Levinson. "Sometimes it's inadvertent. We all get caught up in that--once. You apologize and it's over. But bullies don't recognize their impoliteness and they don't apologize."

P.S.

I'm getting there ... I shot fully manual on Sunday and am SO PROUD of my results. This is straight-out-of-camera (SOOC), no editing done afterwards.

More on Mother's Day

Hey Anonmom, hope you have a wonderful mother's day tomorrow sunday! I've been there and I know how difficult is to be a single mom, I just thought I should tell you that you do an amazing job and that one day, it will all pay off! Hang in there and know that everyday you're shaping somebody's life and there's no job in the world more important or difficult than that. Happy mother's day!


And with those words, my mother's day was made. Not that it wouldn't have been made just by spending the day with my son, but someone I used to work with sent me that message, and it was what the doctor ordered.

She is the kindest person I know ... really, she must have been a saint in a prior life, because she is always thinking of others, always lending a helpful hand, always offering a good word. We should all be more like her.


To tell you the truth, even though I've always been a single mom on mother's day, it hurts just a little bit to be a single mom on mother's day. This is the day, after all, that Hallmark and the world have been telling me my entire life, that I deserve to be spoiled. I made it to motherhood, so where's the breakfast in bed? The best I'll get is a 7:30 am bite on the nose. If I'm lucky and he doesn't decide to bite my cheeks.

Although I'd planned on taking baby to the natural history museum, I don't have the energy to deal with the crowds, deal with the kid, and deal with feeing like everyone in the universe is eondering where my husband/boyfriend/partner is.

Last year I took Baby to the aquarium ... mistake for so many reasons. 1.Ca-ray-zee crowds, 2. tearing him away from the lagoon was a hot mess multiplied by 1,000,000, and 3. seeing all those mother's with their partners ... stung more than I'd like to admit.


Don't get me wrong, it wasn't that I was wishing for bozo back, but it was one of those occasions that has been drummed into my head by hallmark and the world that you're supposed to be spending with your partner, being able to sleep in,being spoiled the entire day. Instead, I was soaking wet, dragging a baby who was soaking wet and mad and pushing around a stroller and trying to keep it all together somehow.

....

UPDATE: Well, I decided to seize this day ... miraculously, Baby let me sleep in until 8:30 am and we took a short drive to have the best cupcakes in Los Angeles County, and then an hour plus visit to a nearby park, where we had a roaring good time.



I chatted with a dad who was celebrating his wife's first mother's day with their 3 year old adopted son from China. We gabbed about potty training, cupcakes, watched out kids play, and rejoiced in the simple act of being parents.



I couldn't have asked for a better Mother's Day.

Mother, mother

There is one good thing about Bozo, amongst all his terrible qualities, one thing he's done in our time of knowing each other that I have only the utmost gratitude for: he helped make me a mother.

Funny, but there are times I feel like my life before becoming a mother was meaningless. When I was pregnant, exhausted, emotional, worried, there was one thing I knew for certain and that was this: I was born to be a mother. It's been the greatest thing in the world and I am so grateful for having this experience. My son's made me a woman.


There are so many reasons I love him ... hard to single out just one.

• Kissing him goodbye in the morning when he's sleeping,
• fighting with him as he sleeps to cut his nails,
• accepting the soggy nacho chip he's chewed on for five minutes and then eating it,because it makes him happy,
• accumulating blackmail photos of him doing silly things for his future wedding,
• watching him run fast as the wind,
• hearing his squeals and giggles before he falls asleep.

Such a joy.


As for my mom ... my mom … I should write a book about her, and her infinite hilarity of just being. She hates the Lakers, and makes a point to watch every single game and yell out “BOO! THE LAKERS ARE RAPERS!!!” No idea where that came from, but on a more serious note, I have a deep amount of admiration for my mom, who came to the US as a 24 year old bride who didn’t speak any English at all, left her entire family behind, stuck through a rocky marriage with my dad, went back to her homeland to give birth to me, left when I was 2 months old hiding her jewelry in my diaper because the country was being shut down due to war, raised me, had 2 kids over the age of 40, worked as my dad’s office manager for years, and still puts up with all of us.


I didn't speak to her for 2 years at the height of my Bozo days. There was a lot of anger, a lot of hurt feelings, and a lot of it was because of things she needs to resolve in herself. I also had some growing up to do, I had to spread my wings.


Even though she tends to drive me crazy at times even now, she has done so many courageous things in her life, and she gave me so much of that courage when I went through my divorce and became a single mom. Right now, she’s babysitting my son, and I can’t thank her nearly enough.

Happy mother's day.

Baby and grandma, admiring monkeys at the zoo.

A good thought about love

Yep, this pretty much sums it up perfectly.

Source

Couldn't have said it better myself

An oldie, but goodie, written by Kristin Armstrong for Glamour Magazine, ex-wife to superstar athlete Lance Armstrong, on marriage and being fully prepared for it, which many of us so often are not.

I first read it a year into my marriage to Bozo ... I think he was in Lebanon at the time, and I was self-healing from the wounds of our early marriage and his departure. She's so right on, and I love her for being so honest. This article is ON POINT!

A couple of excerpts:

Here is the truth as I see it: Marriage has the potential to erode the very fiber of your identity. If you aren't careful, it can tempt you to become a "yes woman" for the sake of salvaging your romantic dream. It can lure you into a pattern of pleasing that will turn you into someone you'll hardly recognize and probably won't like. I am warning you because I only wish someone had warned me.

....

If I were to do things over again, I wouldn't have thrown myself so irrevocably into my new life. I would have guarded the things that made me feel like me —the places, the friends —and above all I would have spoken up about my needs. Instead, I will leave you with a lesson about how a woman can hold on to the bright, hard flame of who she is.

If your husband asks what you think, tell him. If you have a preference, voice it. If you have a question, ask it. If you want to cry, bawl. If you need help, raise your hand and jump up and down. I spent five years juggling kids, travel, cooking, smoothing. I never once said that I couldn't do it on my own, or that I was just plain tired. I became a prisoner to my own inability to say uncle when life squeezed me too hard. The warden was pride, and I remained in maximum security.

Things that inspire me, part 4a

Unashamedly dorky music.

The best thing about being single, besides not having to fight for control of the bathroom anymore, is that I can listen to the music I want to listen to when I want. It's a simple freedom, but one that I hold dear, especially considering how much I like the music I like and how much grief I used to get over it.

My name is Anonmom, and I love dorky music.

There, said it ... I'll never be the person with cool, indie taste --maybe sometimes, but I mostly veer to what you'll see in a sec.

This past week has been an absolute BEAR, and after yesterday's 5 hour total commute, I am so grateful that it is a few mere hours to the WEEKEND! That being said, whenever I need a lift, I go to the magical world of youtube and search for some of my favorite songs, loud and with a beat, and often from the '90's, and all becomes right with the world.

So, keeping things short, here's Anonmom's AMAZING/truly dorky mostly '90's music playlist, the songs I keep at the ready on my iPod whenever I need some magic to get through the tough times. Never fear, there IS a part b and c to this inpsiration, and proof that not all my taste is entirely dorky!

Jon Secada, "Just Another Day" - oh, my goodness. This is pure '90s. You know you used to love this song. You know you still do.



"The humpty dance is your chance, do the hump." Oh, HAI!



"Push the feeling on", Nightcrawlers. This IS 1993 to me.



"Return of the Mack", Mark Morrison. There was a time - in 1996 - when you couldn't turn on the radio without hearing this!



"Give it to you", Jordan Knight. I admit, the lyrics skeeve me out, but I secretly love this song, plus watching his dance moves and seeing him dance in a sweater in the sun makes me happy, for some odd reason.




Happy FRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIDAY!

For other fans of "woo woo" stuff: Mercury in retrograde

This explains EVERYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!

Mercury Retrograde in Taurus

Mercury retro in Taurus suggests problems with the practical application of knowledge and ideas, and disruptions or communication breakdown in diplomacy, the arts and the pursuit of money, possessions and pleasure. Too much focus on the maximisation of gain and of enjoyment can have the opposite effect; erratic changes can suddenly develop, much to everyone's surprise, or even consternation. Talkfests may drone on and on, creating hoarseness as well as boredom for the participants.

To put it another way, Mercury retro in Taurus brings stubborn blockages connected with new ideas, powers of concentration and putting ideas into a practical format. Access to the most direct route to your goals is likely to be blocked by breakdowns in communication and unwillingness to compromise. Beauty treatments, dinner parties and artistic (especially musical) presentations will be especially subject to things going awry.

Power struggles, jealousy and revenge may be the guiding forces behind some pretty intense activities. Past actions may cause obstacles that must be overcome before current actions can succeed. Anger aroused under this influence can be formidably destructive, but transformed into positive energy, it can produce formidable accomplishments.

Be ready to roll with the punches, as Mercury retrograde may well see some nasty breakdowns in communication on the battlefield of life.

Of course all areas of communication are affected by this phase, especially in matters related to the neighbourhood, siblings, local travel, early education, sibling relationships and communications equipment in general. This period brings travel snafus, mail mishaps and missed appointments of all kinds. Documents can go astray. Be sure to carry a diary and refer to it often.

Just a test

... and a quick giggle. I think I finally figured out how to embed video. Don't know why I didn't just Google "how to embed video in blogger" sooner!



Wow, it worked! Back when the Nelsons were on par with the Jonas Brothers. The hair, the hair!

Causes I believe in

It's important to me that Baby learns and understands the value of charity work as he grows up, to know that it is critical to do good deeds for others. Sure, it often feels like we're in the position of needing charity ourselves, but I do believe that if you are willing and able to work, you should always do good deeds for others. That can be anything from donating money, time, and knowledge, sharing your abilities with other people who need them.

Through my life as a single parent blogger, I've had the opportunity to come upon some causes that I believe in and want to help as much as I can, even if can only do it with mere words at this moment.

The Liz Logelin Foundation was founded by Matt Logelin, a widowed dad. His wife died very unexpectedly a day after their daughter was born, and he took to the internet to share his story and his grief. His story is beautiful, heartbreaking, and inspiring all at once. From the utter grief of his experiences, he's founded a charity to benefit other widowers. He asks only for $7 on the 7th day of every month, and that is not a lot to ask for, really.

I learned about the Spohr family through Matt's Twitter feed. They also very unexpectedly lost their 14 month old daughter last month. She was born prematurely, had problems with her lungs her whole life until they finally gave out, sadly. Her parents are still in a state of deep grief, but have already put a lot of energy into promoting the March of Dimes, who held their hands and informed them about their daughter's condition during dark times after her birth.

Through these two experiences of unbelievable heartbreak and sadness, good deeds have come. I believe it is so very important to contribute to any charities that provide comfort to those in need, and that is exactly what they're doing. These parents are some of my personal heroes.

An update on an old post

A couple of years ago, a local college-aged girl from my family's culture went missing. Strange, sad story that devestated her family and remained a mystery until today, when the prime suspect pleaded guilty to involuntary manslaughter.

The police theories were correct -- she died of a drug overdose and he dumped her body in the ocean. I hope her family gets some kind of relief now that they know what happened to her.

RIP, Donna.

It's like when

... there's a dog that has been injured and kicked to the ground, and then people come up and keep kicking it.

Yeah, maybe tomorrow will be a better day.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuudge

The harping has started already, and I've barely sat down in my seat.

I need a drink. PRONTO.

Things that inspire me, part 3

Fine photography ....

I have the writer of this particular blog to thank, because attending her wedding and seeing how she put together some of the details, and working with the photojournalist she hired opened my eyes to the truly spectacular world of modern photography.

Photography is one of those subjects I could wax poetic about forever. ISOs, f-stops, grain, exposure.... Seriously ... there is so much to learn about it, so many ways to capture and then manipulate the images, and that's something I never realized back when I was the proud owner of many disposable Kodak film cameras just a few short years ago.

I'm no expert, am barely getting brave enought to shoot on "Manual" mode on my dslr, but I have a goal, which is to learn how to do what my following inspirations do. These are just a few of the photographers whose blogs I stalk on a daily basis. Some are newbies, some are seasoned pros, but they all have one thing in common, which is a passion for their medium that resonates in every photo they display.

Il Mare Photography ... new to the scene, but an oh, so talented husband-and-wife team. They tell stories through their photos, and they actually took portraits of me and the little guy, which you can find on their site if you dig deep enough.

Jasmine Star. I simply adore Jasmine ... I've never met her, but I hope to one day ... she's funny, creative, and she gets the most geniune reactions out of her subjects. She was at UCLA law school when she decided to follow her dream of becoming a wedding photographer, and in a move that I find extremely inspirational, rented her equipment in the beginning and slowly purchased her own. Smart, smart, smart! Her partner is her husband, and their affection and love for each other is so great!

Jenna Cole Photography ... I found out about her through Wedding Bee, as she was a real bride blogger who decided to follow her passion and become a wedding photographer. Best decision she ever made, because her work is STUNNING and has made me gasp out loud on several occasions. Just breathtaking stuff. I adore.

The Pioneer Woman ... The wife of a cattle rancher in Oklahoma, mom to 4 punks (her words), and blogger extraordinare. Nikon needs to pay her commission, because shes given me and so many others the phototgraphy bug ... I love her for so many reasons ... her genuniness, her beautiful photography, her willingness to share her techniques with the world, and her super fab giveaways, one of which I hope I win at some point!

And, finally, Palos Studios, another husband and wife team. No words, just TA-DOW!

Today's inspiration - update on a different type of single mom

A few months ago, I wrote about the untimely death of one of my former high school classmates, a police officer who died in the line of duty this past October, and his widow, who is now a single mother.

Right now, one of my cubicle mates at work is working on a story of fallen police officers, and it made me remember my school mate. I looked at his memorial website to see how his family is doing now that he's been gone six months.

What I ended up finding was possibly one of the most inspirational blog posts I've ever read. His wife and family recently met with the receipients of his organs. People who were critically ill and were given the gift of renewed life upon his passing, and in their new lifes, the bereaved family is once again reunited, in a way.

Have some Kleenex handy.

Harping

Harping. Yes, harping. That is the correct term for what everyone in our accounting department is doing today.

Harp \Harp\, v.

To dwell on or recur to a subject tediously or monotonously in speaking or in writing; to refer to something repeatedly or continually; -- usually with on or upon. ``Harpings upon old themes.'' --W. Irving.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

They seriously drive me bozonkers, in so many ways. It's the constant phone calls ... please just gather your thoughts and make one phone call with all of your concerns instead of calling me every 2 minutes, yelling out my name, asking me one question, hanging up, then calling me again. And also, if there's something I've done wrong, please just tell me what it is so I don't have to keep playing a guessing game and facing even more calls, this time with a long drawn-out expostion about everything that's wrong with my department.

Some days, people, there are just SOME days I am tempted to change my name to Sunshine Patchouli and move to the mountains with the mole people.

Looking forward to sunny days

This weekend I broke a promise I'd made to a good friend of mine a few months ago.

Sounds silly, but after vowing to not touch Tarot cards, I did a quick and dirty reading on my life via my favorite site, Facade.com. And it was pretty darned interesting.

Not a lot of people know this about me, but I'm a big believer in all "woo woo" metaphysical things. Going back to my childhood I've had certain experiences, have had correct intuitions too many times for me not to discount that there are things going on beyond our basic five senses.

Tarot cards used to be a big part of my life, but the overly frequent reading of them led to my downfall. It was beyond obsession, and I abused the cards so much, that I allowed my good sense to be thrown out with the bathwater. I wince at the memories of my actions (online love spells -- eek!), but at the time, I was a sad and lost soul who did readings throughot the day, trying to make them give me the verdict that I wanted to see.

What I know now is that you can't depend on these methods to tell you how your life is going to turn out. They're a tool you can use to see what is going on in your life, an overview, and what things you need to be aware of. In my case, the cards told me to be careful about not going down a familiar, and dangerous road, what I interpret to mean, beware of Bozo putting on the moves. Sure enough, in the middle of my work day, I receive a cutesy instant message from him, which I promptly ignored.

When I saw my highly intuitive friend a few months ago, she told me it was time to put all the woo woo stuff away, something I'd already started doing on my own. "Depend on prayer," she told me, "God loves you and always listens to your prayers."

So, I've heeded her advice, and have felt so good about it. At the end of the day, I don't want to know what is going to happen ahead of time, it really is better that way. Sometimes it's interesting to see what is going on in my life, which is why I chose to revisit an old path. Not one I'll be revisiting any time soon.

Lest I ever forget ...

One thing that I saw in plain, living color yesterday was how unbelievably inept Bozo was with baby.

He's missing that fatherly gene. His dad didn't have it, either. Maybe there's hope for this generation, but it was so glaringly obvious to me today that Bozo sees baby as a playtoy, not as a child needing guidance from him.

We spent the day taking baby for a haircut, for food, for shoes, and throughout the day, I had to constantly direct him as to what to do ... take baby out of the carseat, don't let him wander off in the parking lot, open the trunk, take out the stroller, please don't eat your entire meal while we're waiting in line to be seated

Bozo is a boor, and on top of that he is living in this weird alternate reality where he stares off into space for chunks of time, checks his Blackberry every couple of minutes, then makes these completely nonsequitur comments about a word he hears in a song. Yeah, one of my most favorite things about not being married to him is not having to be around that mess.

Since we don't really spend time with the baby together, I just never realized how he is with the baby, and it's all so ... uninvolved. He keeps repeating the same phrases, singing the same songs ...never engaging baby in anything ... using baby as his forced audience.

Maybe it's a good thing he's leaving on a jet plane soon.

Monday, Monday ... and a decision

After I wrote yesterday's post, I went out and about, did some errands, and some thinking, since it was baby's visitation day with his dad. About 2 hours into my afternoon, I get a text -- baby didn't take a long nap, when am I coming back?

To be honest, I did some seriously thinking and realized that the upcoming change with Bozo is a HUGE DEAL for me and baby, even though he doesn't think so. To Bozo, this is his big chance to succeed in life, and maybe it is. But the reality of the situation means that my life will be A LOT harder and more difficult. Besides the extra work load, extra money woes, and such, at some point in the next year or so, baby is going to realize his dad isn't around anymore, and he's going to start asking questions. Questions I have absolutely zero idea how to answer. Questions that, frankly, scare the living crap out of me.

There is a solution, I realized, and that is to seek some family counseling for myself. It's time.

I've been to therapists in the past, when I was an adult living under my parents roof and they were driving me insane ... a little bit like the Grey Gardens story. Daughter attempts to live her own life, then moves in with her mom who says she's needed, goes crazy AND bald because of the stress.

Not that I went bald - but I did lose all of my lower eyelashes on one eye at some point - but my parents insisted I go to therapy to learn how to be a better person. The verdict from all the therapists I visited? Get outta their house!

The time has come in this different life situation, and I need to learn how to answer those future questions. In a lot of ways, I haven't allowed myself to wrap my brain around what's happening. Bozo says he's going and will be back, but the truth is ... I think he's leaving for good and will never be back and I don't know how to tell that to my son.

The good news is that I do have mental health coverage through my work insurance. The worst part about having the PPO insurance I have is there's a high deductible, which means that until I get to a certain level of health care spending, I pay a big chunk of my doctor's visits/lab tests out of pocket. So, this will be an expensive endeavor for sure, but I gotta do it.

It's an investment towards future mental health.

He always leaves a bad taste in my mouth

Before haircut (Hi, Mr. Noodle):


After haircut:

I'm back home after baby's haircut, which went a little better than expected. He cried and tried to escape, but gave up after a certain point. Super cute place ... they had Sesame Street On Demand, and lots of kid distractions, none of which worked for my kid, of course. All the other moms looked at me and gave me a pouty face and said, "It's harder for the moms than the kids." Sigh.

"Well, you managed to raise quite a mama's boy," Bozo remarked after baby shied away from him. Baby was clinging to me during our trip, and Bozo didn't know quite what to do with him, really. I had to direct him what to do, where to go, what to do with baby ... he doesn't think like a father would think. And, as always, it is IMPOSSIBLE to have a reality-based conversation with him.

For the first time in over a year, I'm feeling the sadness and tears creep up behind the wall my antidepressant has created. Not going to cry, but the feeling is there.

The reality IS that I should just give up talking to Bozo about reality, but during our drive back from the haircut and lunch, he told me he's moving to New Mexico next month for 2 years to finish his Ph.D., will only come back every couple of months, will keep child support payment at $150 for the forseeable future, and by the way, they're still making the movie. They'll lose money, but hey, it's fun and it's going to be on IMDB.com . In between all of that, I attempted to tell him that I needed help paying for baby's upcoming daycare/preschool needs.

Bozo's reactions:

1. Well, I see a sign for free daycare every day. you should check into that. Reality check: likely free daycare after tuition-based private school.

2. Can't you tell your parents to hold on a little longer?

3. You realize we could have had a house by now if we'd stayed together and moved to texas? Reality check: YEAH, RIGHT!

4. Anonmom, this is all your fault, it's all your creation. Reality check: I NEED A DRINK!

To my credit, I didn't scream at him or overreact, I just let it go, and when we got to inlaws house, put sleeping baby in bed and left. talked to exFIL and he sympathised and told me that at least, after all of this, I've learned a huge lesson and got Smiley, aka Baby, out of it.

True that.

I guess I knew what the end result to my question would be, but I still wanted to give him another chance, another opportunity to step up to the plate. I guess I still had a little bit of trust left in Bozo. I guess I should have known better.

So, here I go again, pushing my sleeves up, ready to get to business. Now I'm off to treat myself to something. I'll clean when I get back. It can wait. My sanity needs a break. '

Single Parent Shame?

Yesterday, Saturday morning, when I was still at my parent's house, I took the baby to the neighborhood playground. In this community of uniformly manicured lawns and association fees, the park is immaculate, a stark contrast to my neighborhood park, littered with cigarette butts, and junk food wrappers.

When we got there at 11 am, it was empty and we enjoyed 30 minutes of isolation before a young dad came along with his toddler daughter.

One thing about this neighborhood is that there are tons of young kids ... a good thing. I'm often the odd woman out, though, because I am decidedly younger than the large majority of these parents, even though I left spring chicken-ville a long time ago. When people tend to have career that make money that allow them to live in these types of communities, they tend to put child-bearing off until their mid-to late 30's.

The dad and I struck up a conversation as we pushed our kids in the swings ... where you work, where you from, yadda yadda. He was a nice guy, and interested in what I had to say. Odd for Orange County, odd for Southern California in general. I honestly had a hard time having a conversation with him, without sounding like a blathering idiot, because I'm not used to having people interested in what I have to say. That's just how it is here - really.

We exchanged info about our kids, where we're from, and when I told him about my massive commute, his jaw literally dropped, and I didn't have it in me to break the other news about my life ... that baby's dad is pretty much out of the picture. I referred to my exMIL as my MIL, referred to Bozo as baby's father, and did the same thing when I started talking to another mommy who arrived on the playground shortly after.

The thing is, though, that's not the first time I've done that. People rarely ask, and rarely take notice of my bare left ring finger. Bozo is always referred to as baby's father, never my ex-husband or husband. I just never, ever, ever meet other single parents and it's not something I'm loud and proud about. When you're surrounded by parents with partners, you kind of feel left out. At least I do. My life isn't the traditional one, and I'd hate to complicate a rather easy going conversation.

"Are you going to have another one?" Other parents always ask that question. I always shake my head no in return. They laugh, knowingly, at how hard it can be with just one kid.

Am I perhaps ashamed of being a single parent, even though becoming one was the best thing I ever did? Yes, oh yes. And I wonder if I'll ever be on the other side of the parenting mirror -- partnered up and part of an extended family.

In the end, I did meet two nice parents and baby got his park time in. Mission: accomplished.

Drama of the online variety

For the past 10 years, I've been part of a long-standing beauty forum that has been around for about 12 years. That's 12 years of friendships, bonds, laughter, tears ... and gone in a matter of minutes.

It was drama, folks. Pure, unadulterated childish drama. The moderators decided to bring it down today, leaving the "regulars" shocked in the midst of a hurricane of emotions and confusion.

When I first came around this beauty forum, I was working in radio, b-izz ored to death with putting together sales orders, and obsessed with makeup. OBSESSED. So obsessed, that I would take the San Francisco subway and run part of the way to Sephora and back on my lunch breaks to pick up a little somethin' somethin'.

Makeup has always been an obsession of mine, going back to my childhood when I would steal my mom's emerald green Maybelline eyeshadow, to the time I left the corporate world to become a makeup artist, to the single, working parent I am today, who still takes 15 minutes in the mornings to apply my daily spackle.

The forum was a savior to me in the beginning ... I got all my makeup questions answered, got tons of recommendations, made a few friends. I stayed, then left for a couple years, then came back to find the forum still around, but a little different. Less makeup, more life. But, it was still good, and I still stuck around.

Because of the forum, I found several real-life friends, friends because of those friends, a few makeup clients, a few jewelry clients, a roomate, an email pal, and so much support that I couldn't have even paid for at a shrink's office.

The good news is, the board is running again, under a different incarnation, run by people who have it's best interests at heart. Will it still be around 10 years from now? I hope so ... I don't know what I would do with my invisible, online beauty forum friends.

That's the beauty of the internet for ya.

Would you date yourself?

An online acquaintance who is on my Facebook page solely for the reason we have one friend in common - an old high school friend of mine - posted this list of dating advice for single women on his page.

I seriously don't know why I haven't deleted him from my friends list, as we've never even met, but the coincidences about us are funny, and he posts interesting articles. Funny backstory - we met when I was doing the online dating thing about 4 years ago, right before I met Bozo, but never met because he lives in San Diego. I got married and divorced, then I got married and divorced. And there he is on Facebook, being friends with a high school friend of mine. The world is smaller than we think.

The article lists standard stuff - what single women can do to make themselves more attractive to men. Although I have yet to find one single man in Los Angeles or Orange County lately - seriously, where are they? - I thought it was interesting. Would I date myself Yes. Not the single me who was dating Bozo, but the single mom me of today for SURE.


Here's what "they" say you have to do to bag a man:


1. You're just that into yourself (aka, you have high self-esteem). Check -- after going through a bad marriage, rough divorce, and single mom-hood, my give a shit meter is permanently broken and my former insecurity levels have magically disappeared. I think I'm awesome. I am single mom, hear me roar.


2. You've got a burning passion... and not just for him. Check. Not so much when I met Bozo, but after having my interests buried for years, I'm rediscovering them and loving every single second of it. I guess I have to thank Bozo, because without that negative experience, I wouldn't have realized that there are so many things I love to do ... photography, cooking, dancing, hiking, crafting. These are things I would choose to do in my free time.

3. You know how to compromise. Not sure about this one. As a single mom, my focus is all about baby and me. That's it. I can compromise to a certain level, but it has to go both ways.

4. You dress for guys, not girls.Um, not really. I dress for myself and for practicality's sake. Cardigans, jeans, sneakers/flip flops, anyone?

5. You're over your ex. Pretty much, at this point, especially since my "FORGET BOZO" revelation earlier this week.

You know, this list is interesting and all, but I've never seen a list of what men can do to make themselves more attractive to women. Maybe we should start our own list, ladies?

Haircut wars, plus cute (if slightly OCD) toddler antics

Baby has a haircut scheduled at 11 am on Sunday at this fun kids-only salon.

Bozo is accompanying me, since the last 2 haircuts were royal disasters. Royal. Disasters. We took him to Sports Clips both times, a place that accomdates all ages, and it was truly necessary for both of us to be there. Last time we both held him down. Bozo didn't cry, but me and baby both did.

It's been five months, and he could use a good trim around the sides and the bottom. Of course, there's the highly opinionated grandparents to deal with. exFIL -- "When you gonna git this kid a haircut?", versus my mom -- "Do it when he's asleep! He doesn't need a haircut! If he has that kind of experience, he'll remember it when he gets older."

But, Bozo and I are in agreement (for once) and off we go to this merry place, where the kids get to sit in little planes and watch a movie. I have high hopes for this place.

---

This morning before I took off from my mom's house, baby was awake and I noticed he's gotten even tallen recently. FYI, he is VERY tall for a 20 month old, in the 97th percentile at his last doctor's visit, and now the top of his head is at the height of my belly button. He feels heavier, too, and it's unbelievable that he's sprouting up so much. They really do grow SO so fast.

Cute story #1: Earlier this week I was in the bathroom when he woke up in the morning, and he was waiting for me in his crib for a while. When I came into the room, he was standing up and started clapping and saying "YAAAAAAAAY!" Now, how's that for a wakeup call?

Cute story #2: We all think baby is showing OCD tendencies, which isn't unusual given that my dad has OCD and so does my exMIL. Baby wants to do certain things over and over and over and over and over and over again, and he wants to make other people touch certain things several times in a row. When baby is at my mom's house, his obsession is watering her backyard.

You really have to see it in action to appreciate the absurdity of it all. He asks to go outside about 3-4 times a day, leads you to a specific watering hose, then directs you as to what plant you need to be watering and when. If you don't water the right plant or you don't water long enough, watch out!

Well, last night he was DETERMINED to water the plants at 9 pm at night! He was draped all over the door, so my mom opened it for him and he darted out, happy as a clam and waiting by the watering hose for someone to come out and start watering.

SILLY!

Oh, I love that boy. :)