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So this is a video about Twitter. It cracks me up, especially the "blowin' up" part. LMAO
Also? The guy in the green that "passed his test"? I grew up with him. And? I secretly had a crush on him allll through school (we met in 5th grade).

Zzzzzzzzzzzz! Or The post NOT about BlogHer'09

So while everyone else was at BlogHer (mother f-er, I'm still jealous and all green with envy (be damned, you Cardinal sins you!)), I had a busy weekend. I'm still pretty worn out, although I will admit it isn't because I went to some badass parties, licked anyone's boobs, or broke a coffee table (don't ask; actually, I'm not sure I really understand myself). So...yeah.

Friday was my girl's birthday. We bought her a Nintendo DS, and omg, you would have thought we bought her a pony (on the Christmas list). She jumped up and down, said "Yessssssssssssss!" and every picture I took of her opening the present is a total blur. She moves NON-FREAKIN'-STOP, but throw in a coveted present and you can bet we won't catch her sitting still.

Anyway, then she picked her favorite burger place for dinner, and had one of her friends spend the night.

What exactly was I thinking when I agreed to a 4 year old sleepover?? Damn. Actually, they were very good. Giggly, silly, not toooooo hyper...but didn't fall asleep until well after midnight.

And? They were up at 7am, bossing me and asking me all sorts of questions. It is too early for questions, damn it.

Saturday, she went to a birthday party while I went to a baby shower. When I got back, I made her a strawberry cake with homemade strawberry cream cheese icing. Biddy made up the icing recipe all by herself at the spur of the moment (It was delish!!).
Then she (my girl, not Biddy) refused to nap before her family party. I think I may have needed the nap a tad more than she did. Anyway, then both sets of grandparents came over, along with Aunt Angel & Monkey Matt. We had pizza, cake, and presents. She got a new bike, which someone (not naming names, mother fucka) let her ride around in the house, some kick-ass, light-up Sketchers that she really wants me to let her wear now (they are 1/2 a size too big, on purpose, so she can wear them in the fall), and a boy baby that she really wanted. Oh, and Where the Wild Things Are. (She got other things, but my mind is still mush, so yeah, she got stuff).

She crashed Saturday night, and I stayed up way too late watching the movie Knowing (which flipped me out, if you saw my tweets, and then it really made me cry and think). And then I had Jack in the Box tacos at 1am. WHAT?

Sunday: the birthday party at the local city water park w/ her friends. It was overcast and not *too* hot. Lots of adorable kids came, and...my kid was a zombie. She woke up with a runny nose and circles under her eyes. She was not her usual sassy, smiley self. She didn't want anyone to sing Happy Birthday to her, so we all sang quietly (Except Jackson, adorable son of Kristie, who serenaded her so sweetly, I could have squeezed him). She didn't want to open presents; it was like I had to twist her arm. She didn't smile, she didn't want to thank anyone, she just wanted to get back in the water and avoid all the attention. Funny that my kid is like this only during her birthday. Last year and the year before, I have pictures of her looking like a damn zombie, willing me with her eyes to make everyone go away. Like this:

Sunday night she crashed at 8pm. I stayed up too late again, watching Taboo on National Geographic. I'm tired, people. I need sleep. I feel so devoid of energy lately, and this past weekend did not help at all.

Oh, and between all this stuff, I read tweets about the shenanigans at BlogHer, I drooled at pictures, I "wahhhhhhhhh!"-ed about not being there for Chris' birthday, I "grrrrr!"-ed about not getting to meet so many lovely and funny women..... And seriously, the men too!

But! BlogHer '10 is a week before I graduate! Here's hoping I can make that work!

Music Lover Monday-Why I love Pandora

New songs Pandora offered up, and I plan to add to my ipod:





Psychotic Girl by The Black Keys





Reason Why by Rachael Yamagata







Before The Worst by The Script



Maybe people have heard all of these before, but I never have. Love them. What do you think?

Sweet child of mine

Last year, my girl, you were three. Now, today, with one brief blink of the eye, you are four. I know I sound like a nutcake broken record, but it's gone so fast.

You were just born, for the love of pete, and I just can't fathom that four damn years has gone by since we met face to face.

I feel like you've always been here, always been in my life, sticking your hand in my plate, leaving floaties in my drink, watching me pee, snuggling up to me, slipping your hand in mine.

Since your last birthday, you have done so many things. So many, in fact, that I probably forgot some of them, and that's a sad shame.

You lost two blankies.
You went to the State Fair for the first time.
You learned what it felt like to lose a pet, to grieve, and to heal.
You roller-skated for the first time.

You went to a baseball game & fell in love with the players. You absolutely adore Josh Hamilton, and literally cry for him. You've even asked us to drive by his house several times, & I think it was probably a bad idea that your Daddy told you he lives less than a mile from us, and it wouldn't surprise me to get a phone call from the police someday, telling me you skipped out of preschool, walked across the road, & was found looking in his windows.

Your great-grandmother passed away, & you wanted to see her in the casket, which I allowed (PARENT FAIL? I don't know-I guess I'll ask you in 12 or so years).

You gave us all complete & utter terror attacks when we thought we lost you.

You completed your Daddy's sentence when he said "Mother F" (I will not forget the sound of your little voice telling him matter-of-factly, "It's FUCKER, Daddy. Mother FUCKER").

You started campaigning for a Nintendo DS, a baby brother, & most recently, the chance to have your pacifier back.
You started dressing yourself, and having strong opinions about what you want to wear every day.

You rolled with the punches, and moved a to a temporary house when our house flooded.

You went to the deer lease with your father, several times, looking for deer, cows, turkeys, and anything else you could scare off with your happy laughter. You enjoyed riding around in the Kubota RTV w/ him, which I affectionately call 'The Bubble'.

You learned how to whistle.
You learned the words to so many songs, including Pink's "So What" , Outkast's "Back of the Bus", and All American Rejects' "Hope it gives you hell". Tonight I heard you in your room after I put you to bed, singing "If you're happy and you know it". You have such a sweet little voice.

You are so smart, my baby. You can spell and write your name, and you are recognizing letters all over the place:on street signs, in the grocery aisles, in books, on TV. You love to learn, and spend time every day, on your own, doing pages in workbooks, asking me sweetly "Tell me what I do on this page, mommy".
When I put you to bed, we read a book (or two, or ten) and you insist on reading it to me after I read it. You asked to be rocked, and we sit on the floor in front of your bed, where I pull you into my lap and rock you gently, while breathing in the scent of your hair. You climb into bed willingly, asking for every damn receiving blanket to be layered over you, and placing your Old Man Dog, Daisy, and 17,569 other small stuffed animals JUST SO at the foot of your bed.
You know how to manipulate, and push buttons, and annoy. You know how to get what you want. But just when I am being pushed to the edge of insanity with your whining, bossing, nagging, complaining, I-will-not-shut-up-until-you-give-me-what-I-want-damn-it....you soften the blow with a sweet smile, a soft kiss, and bright eyes. You tell me I am a good mommy just when I need to hear it most. You kiss me at the best times. You say "I love you" so often.

You are so silly. You love to laugh. You love to stuff your face full of grapes, steal my last chip, blow the wrappers off your straw at us, make silly faces and noises, & you NEVER sit still for pictures.
You are such a joy, even in the midst of the frustration. You are so much fun, playing hide-n-seek in the house with us, or duck-duck-goose. Your laugh is contagious when I tickle you until you lose your breath. You love to fart, shake your booty, and play with Daisy. In fact, you love all dogs.
You are my sweet girl, and it saddens me that the time is flying, that you are FOUR, that you are getting so damn long and smart and independent and feisty and fierce and.....I love all these things about you, but I just want it all to slow down. I just want to feel your little hand in mine, and hear you sing "I wanna hold your hand" when you do it.

Happy birthday, my sweet girl.

Wordless Wednesday

I, uh, just don't know what to say.

Heavy load & Can't

-Heavy Load-

I'm not big enough-
I'm just one girl.
I can't get you out of this, and
I'm forced to stand by when you fall.

I hear the words
I'll listen when I can
I have no choice-
You break before you bend.

You left us all alone (together),
Looking for your place,
We cried as you walked away,
Wiped tears from his face.

I'm not big enough-
I'm just one girl.
I can't help him out of this
I'll stand by as he falls.

(written in 1997, unfinished)


-Can't-

I can't keep doing this,
This playing house,
this smiling fake, this walking in a fog,
THIS.

I am not me,
You are not you,
I need to find that time,
Where we were one,
not two.

Things overwhelm;
I cannot breathe.
Loneliness will sufficiate,
Anger will not leave.

I am so over this,
The time is so slow,
Waiting for the next sunrise
And the strength to let go.

(written in 2005)

Music Lover Monday-Melancholy 201

Seriously, sometimes I want to shoot myself. Okay, not really, that's harsh. But jeez, do the people that write songs like this really feel these things? Or, do they climb in my heart while I'm asleep, poke around, see which spots are the most sore, the most weak, and steal the words out of my mouth before they ever reach my tongue?