Just Some Random Stuff...

So FB was here picking up Soph and my brother-in-law called me on my home phone because we’re going out tonight. I have caller ID and FB handed me the phone so he knows who it was. I wonder what he thinks about me and his bro being friends, if anything at all. I wonder if he’s glad, mad, jealous...

On Tuesday, when FB came over, he gave me two of Sophie’s six-month pictures as an “early mother’s day present.” (Apparently, he had them taken at Sears the weekend before I did). I said they were cute (even though mine are better) and he said “Well I had help with the dress; otherwise, I would have had no clue.” I wonder if FB told me that to let me know he was still with the whore. It could have been his mom or his sister-in-law who helped him, but naturally I assumed it was the whore. Of course, I already knew that they are still together but he doesn’t know that I know. I wonder if he said that just as an “FYI” or if he wanted me to ask “Who helped you?” so he could rub it in my face. But I didn’t take the bait. I simply said, “Yeah, well, you’re a man.” (My friend JL is one of the best dads I know but still can’t dress his 18-month old to save his life). Or maybe I’m just reading too much into it.

I told Jamie he could have Soph on Father’s Day, even though it falls on “my” weekend. He said, “That’s awful nice.” I’m not a total bitch.

My California boy texted me last night:) Our “conversation” was fun and flirty and casual and sweet and sexy all at the same time. It put a smile on my face.

Sophie has a cold—it’s just a cold—and would not let me put her down AT ALL today, which makes me wonder how she’ll do at dad’s this weekend.

After scanning the women’s postings on match.com to see what my competition is, I’ve realized that it’s no easier being a single man out there than it is being a single woman.

Ew.

Sorry about the double post, but this is just wrong.

So Big!

Last night, Sophie learned how to roll from her belly to her back! She's also been eating vegtables for the past couple of weeks. Her favorite? Carrots (which stain the worst. Naturally)

PS - Stay tuned for stories: I think I'm going to create a match.com profile. It should be highly entertaining.

I've realized...

...that the moment I stop caring will be the moment FB and the whore break up.

So how do I stop caring?

So Big! Sophie at six months 

Giggle Giggle 

Heaven

There is no sound
More pleasant to my ears
Than the giggles and laughter
of my daughter

PS - Today is Sophie's six month birthday!

Things That Make You Go Hmmm…

FB got a new job with a higher base salary which is great for him and me—I want him to be filthy fuckin’ rich. The job is here, but he does have to attend training in Houston for the month of May. He can come home on the weekends, but he won’t be able to do his Tuesday overnights with Sophie. He wanted to be sure I wouldn’t use this against him in court (uh, no). He also said that his parents would like to take Sophie those Tuesdays.

And that’s where my “hmmm…” comes in.

In one respect, it works out really well because my class ends tomorrow night, so I’ll be home now. At the same time, I was kind of looking forward to some free nights (guilty gulp).

It’s also about principle. If FB’s parents had treated me with any decency and respect, I would be more than happy to let them take Sophie. But they didn’t, and they don’t. Even after I wrote them a note saying that they could have had open access to their granddaughter if they had treated me differently and that they can have open access to her if they start treating me differently, I got nothing. Well, almost nothing. They responded with a letter that started with “Here’s what we’ve been doing lately.”

I’m not trying to keep Sophie away from her grandparents. Nor do I wish to be friends with such hypocrites and cowards.

However.

Maybe it’s time that this family learns there are consequences to their actions (or inaction). But would they really get it? After all, it is their doing—not mine—that they have to rely on their son in order to see Sophie.

Legally, I do not have to allow them to take over FB’s visits, but I don’t want to look like a bitch in court either.

PS – I also wonder what, if anything, his current company knows about the situation and whether or not this had something to do with him looking for another job.

Magical Thinking

A schizotypal personality disorder attributing to one's own actions something that had nothing to do with him or her and thus assuming that one has a greater influence over events than is actually the case.

Nineteen

I went to the doc and was running 102 temp. Got on antibiotics and slept for 19 hours. Of those 19 hours, 18.5 were dreams about FB--lucky me. It's subconscious, people. Jamie had to take Sophie so I wouldn't infect her. Should be better now...

PS - D-Day #2: June 21st is our next and final court date.

I feel like hell.
I'm coming down with something.
I just want to go back to bed.
And I don't want to get Sophie sick.

It's All In My Head

Over and Over - by: Nelly

Cause it’s all in my head
I think about it
Over and over again
And I can’t keep
Picturing you with her
And it hurts so bad
Yeah, cause it’s all in my head
I think about it
Over and over again
I replay it
Over and over again
And I can’t take it
I can’t shake it, no

They Must Think I’m Mad!

Okay, so there are a lot of reasons people might think I’m mad. (Mad as in crazy, not angry. Apparently, I’m British today). Sophie and I went grocery shopping yesterday and the whole time I’m talking, talking, talking.

Sophie, how many apples do you think we should get? Four?

She looks at me, sticks her thumb in her mouth and turns to find something more interesting.

Oh, yes and we need to pick you out some more vegetables. What would you like to eat? How about some squash? Would you like to try some peas and carrots too?
Oh here we are – mommy needs some hair gel. Oh, they don’t have the kind I like. Well, I guess I’ll try this. What do you think? Do you think this will work?
Oh and of course pizza rolls because those are good for mommy’s diet, aren’t they? Burrr…it’s cold over here, isn’t it? I say as I open the freezer section. (At least she thought that was funny: my “burr”).

Talking, talking talking…She loves it, though. She loves to be talked to. When we got home, she helped me put away the groceries as I explained what goes in the fridge and what goes in the cabinet.

And as I’m preparing her dinner, I sing silly songs that make her laugh like “Sophie Sophie Sophie is a silly girl…Silly girl…Silly girl” and then I do a little shake and she cracks up.

These are the things that will embarrass her greatly when she turns 12. What else are mommies for?

This is what happens when you live alone with an infant.

Mostly...

i wonder if FB really is happier
with her
than he was with me
and if he is
i don't want to know
but if he isn't
i do

Bunchy Bunchies

Most of us had a comfort item and/or habit when we were little. That one thing or combination of things that made us feel safe and secure: sucking thumbs or fingers, blankies, that special stuffed animal that you wouldn’t let your mom wash no matter how many times you dragged it through the mud…

Whatever it was, most of us clung to it at some point or another. Some of us even clung to it until an embarrassingly old age, but I won’t mention any names (Okay, I’m talking about myself). I used to suck my two fingers – middle and ring (weird, I know) – and of course I had a yellow-checkered blankie edged with lace. My system: I would weave one end of my blankie between my fingers and push it right up under my nose to smell it as I sucked. At its other end, the stuffing was semi-exposed from constantly kneading it with my thumb.

My cousin Jessica had “bunchy bunchies.” Every night before falling asleep, she would have her dad bunch the edge of her bedding together to make a small molehill she could grab onto and knead.

Sophie apparently takes after her godmother. While in my arms, Sophie will suck her left thumb and knead my shirt. Bunchy bunchies!

This is Sophie at five months. This is my favorite picture of her. It fully encompasses her personality. 

In My Daughter’s Eyes

Song by: Martina McBride

In my daughter’s eyes I am a hero
I am strong and wise and I know no fear
But the truth is plain to see
She was sent to rescue me
I see who I wanna be
In my daughter’s eyes

In my daughter’s eyes everyone is equal
Darkness turns to light and the
world is at peace
This miracle God gave to me gives me
strength when I am weak
I find reason to believe
In my daughter’s eyes

And when she wraps her hand
around my finger
Oh it puts a smile in my heart
Everything becomes a little clearer
I realize what life is all about

It’s hangin’ on when your heart
has had enough
It’s giving more when you feel like giving up
I’ve seen the light
It’s in my daugter’s eyes

In my daughter’s eyes I can see the future
A reflection of who I am and what will be
Though she’ll grow and someday leave
Maybe raise a family
When I’m gone I hope you see how happy
she made me
For I’ll be there
In my daughter’s eyes

Sophie’s Baptism

Sophie’s baptism was yesterday and all in all it went pretty well. There were no scenes, no fights, no wrestling matches, no bruises, no yelling, and no need for Jerry Springer.

Jamie’s entire family was there as I expected. While his aunts and paternal grandparents gave me a shoulder squeeze or shook my hand, his parents chose not to acknowledge my existence. Jen, Jamie’s sister-in-law, brought over my godson to say “hi.” I returned the greeting but didn’t have much else to add.

My mom told me later that she came upon Jen in the parking lot who, when she faced my mother, had big tears in her eyes. “I miss Farrell,” she said. “This is so hard for me.” I had a daydream (or “vision” or whatever you want to call it) something like that would happen.
a) You don’t miss me because if you did you would call; you would try.
b) It’s called empathy. Look it up.

My mom also told me that when she found herself standing in silence next to Jamie’s mother for a few minutes, she said “After you being at my daughter’s house three times to visit Sophie and not acknowledging my presence, I’m not going to bother acknowledging yours either.” Real mature, mom. I told her as much too. I don’t forget what Jamie has done to her and I get that she is hurting too, but I am sick of the “Do as I say and not as I do” hypocrisy.

Jamie carried Sophie to my car and said “Thank You.” Maybe he was thanking me for “inviting” him. Maybe he was thanking me for letting him take her as soon as we arrived to visit with his family. Maybe he was thanking me for not making a scene. Maybe he was thanking me for passing her off to him when she got fussy. Maybe he was thanking me for being patient while his side of the family did their picture taking.

Maybe he just didn’t know what else to say.

Now for the fun part: Sophie’s Big Day.

From the moment we put on the dress, Sophie was not into it. She was like, get this THING off of me. Too much lace, too much fluff, I’m hot and omigod I’m wearing puffy sleeves.

“Have you ever seen My Big Fat Greek Wedding?” asked my cousin Jessica, Sophie’s godmother.

Yeah, it was like that.

Sophie was very interested in the priest because he was a new person. While he spoke, she held out her arms as if she were praying. Or maybe she just wanted to give him a hug.

When the priest poured water over her head, I got a look that said “What the…?” and “I just got a bath last night!” and “Damn, this shit is cold!” (Okay, maybe not in church).

A perfect angel through the ceremony, Sophie was NOT up for picture taking. She screamed when she felt Jamie’s maternal grandfather’s prickly beard (wouldn’t you?) and was sooo over the dress by that point that she just wanted to get naked and sleep (again, wouldn’t you?)

Even though I specifically stated NO GIFTS, Sophie will be the best-accessorized infant ever: she received a Tiffany-style silver heart charm bracelet, along with a pearl bracelet. She also received her first rosary in its own special case, a cover up for our summer pool days to come, a shadow box to commemorate this day, and a fun “pet the animal” book.

Thank you to all who came. Your support means the world to me.

And now for the “comedy:” My cousin Jessica had to shovel down her food so that my dad could drive her to the airport in time to make her 3:25pm flight. Only it wasn’t scheduled to take off until 5:25. To top it off, the lab that she was rushing back to school to attend was cancelled this morning.

Lastly: We were all eating dinner. Me, my mom, Jessica, my step-dad and my dad. And we’re chatting and drinking and just enjoying each other’s company. And I thought to myself, “Will this ever be me and Jamie?”

Accomplishment

Because my daughter is a sleepy head this morning, by 8am I had cleaned the house. Well, maybe not “clean” by pre-baby standards, but at least I made it “livable” by post-baby standards.

Now all I have to do is:

(Deep breath)

Writemythankyounotes-paymybills-critiqueapeer’sstory-writetwofreelancearticles-vacuummybedroomcarpet-putawaythelaundry-reviseastoryandprepareaclasspresentation…

Whew. I’m exhausted. Is it too early to go back to bed? If so, is it too early for a drink?

Serendipity

Main Entry: ser·en·dip·i·ty
Pronunciation: -'di-p&-tE
Function: noun
Etymology: from its possession by the heroes of the Persian fairy tale The Three Princes of Serendip
Definition: the faculty or phenomenon of finding valuable or agreeable things not sought for

Dreams

This was my dream last night:

Jamie and I were shopping for furniture at the JCPenny Home Store. (Don’t ask). While he was looking around, I relaxed on a near-by bench to read my magazine. I’m reading about the Scott Peterson case. Scott happens to be sitting on my right. As I’m reading about how he killed her, Laci comes and sits on my left. I’m reading about how she’s dead, yet there she is next to me and she’s not a ghost. Then I watch her swim in the ocean and even though she dives under, her hair is still dry when she resurfaces.

This was my dream the night before last:

While looking through a photo album, my “friend” (not a friend I have in real life but a non-specific girl who’s there to represent a friend) takes a picture of an elephant out of the album’s sleeve and waves it around a bit. This causes us to enter the picture’s scene: a jungle of some sort. I’m standing close enough to the elephant that I can see the intricate designs tattooed on its legs. My friend tells me “The Egyptians did it.” With that, the elephant takes off and now we’re in a mall and people are panicking, trying to get out of its way before being stomped on.

* Just in case you’re wondering, yes, they’re always this weird. If you don’t believe me, click here or here.

I'm Still High

Isn't it the most wonderful fabulous glorious marvelous fantastic morning ever known to all of mankind?

Boost

Last night I finally got the ego boost I’ve needed.

Not only did I meet a nice, good-looking California boy who bought me drinks, he also told me how beautiful I was—even after I assured him he was definitely going to get a little somethin’ somethin’ and that he really didn’t have to try that hard.

Ladies, I strongly urge to you Embrace the Power of the Boob. It’s all about cleavage. It also helps when you can take good-natured teasing and dish it right back.

Maybe I still got it after all.

Dating – Part II

This is Part I.

In many ways, I’m the worst person to date:

1. I’m going through a divorce.
2. I have a five-month old daughter.
3. I’m possibly psycho.
4. I’m definitely fat.

In other ways, I’m the perfect person to date because I don’t want a relationship right now. Not a serious one anyway.

All I want is:
Somebody--preferably good looking with a decent bod who shares my interests--to come over, cook me dinner, share a bottle (or two) of wine with me, have some flirty fun and maybe even get a goodnight kiss (at least).

That’s all I want. I do not have the time nor the energy to see you everyday or even talk to you everyday. All I’m asking for is some companionship (and satisfaction) every other Friday.

I don’t think that’s too much to ask, do you?