My life has reach new levels of boring. At both my jobs I’m essentially paid to fill the seat. It is immensely slow and I show up to these jobs, and watch the clock doing very minimal work. It’s odd.

I guess it must rub me the wrong way because I grew up on a farm and, as you know about those farms, there is always something to do. I’m not even a manual labor lovin’ type of person and my 18 years on a farm instilled that there is always something to be done.  My parents are hardcore. Some seasons my mom never stops moving, she’s manic. Their manic dedication to physical labor and farm work made me never want a farm in my 20s. Now, I see can see the rewards, but wouldn’t have the energy to dedicate to it. Who am I kidding? I can’t even keep up on my postage stamp back yard!

So, back to boring. The only thing exciting lately has been my son’s constant accumulation of new words, which cracks us up, and these weird dreams I’ve been having. Dreams about teeth falling out, shaving the back of my head, my parents building a giant house that looks like a warehouse, my older aunts and uncles adopting more children (they are all grandparents or parents of grown children) and the list goes on. Strange, for someone with such an uneventful life, my mind really entertains me in my sleep. In one dream I stated that ”this must be a dream” because I looked in the mirror and saw a svelt, full-haired version of me and I thought, “I looked fantastic!”

What kind of weird Freud thing is that? 

** My son has just started to respond to my requests with a simple “No.” So far, I’ve managed to shrug it off and ask again or let it go. No reaction is the best reaction with toddlers. Good thing I know about deep breathing.

 ** I was really impressed with GW’s speach writers last night. That was a really nice bunch of pipe dreams for a last speach. Too bad he didn’t try some of those ideas about seven years ago. When you only have a year left you might as well throw out as many impossible ideals and warm fuzzies as you can. Honestly, who could solve all the country’s problems in one year, but he did finally talk about them.  The camera man on Fox news made Hillary look like an evil witch dressed in red.  They kept showing her grim expressions and eye rolls. Obama was only shown once. If I blinked I would have missed him. And what is up with always showing the near sleeping Ted Kennedy? Is that red-nosed drunk even relevant anymore?

** No.

I know a D-list celebrity.

I say the D-list, as in Denver. In Hollywood it would probably be the Z list.

He’s a cousin of my father-in-law, former Director of The Office Economic Development for the city of Denver, and former dough-boy elegiable batchleor due to AOL money, and previous owner of the notorious “Sculptured House” off of I-70 featured in Woody Allen’s movie “Sleeper.” It’s a swinger pad for people who remember when that look wasn’t retro.

(Viewer be warned: both pictures make objects look much cooler than they appear in real life.)

First of all, I’ve known this man for 6 years, been to one of his weddings, a Thanksgiving, a Labor Day event, his mother’s funeral and he never recognizes me. I saw him downtown at Jimmy Johns two years ago, went up to him, introduced myself (first name and last) told him my husband’s name, spelled out our connection and he still looked at my with a blank, deer in the headlights look of “Okay lady, whatever you say.”

Now, my husband and I are invited with the rest of Denver to a reception for his 3rd wedding. Question, how does a man who looks like Dan Akryod with the personality of linty Swifter and the charisma of a Ziggy cartoon, get three women to marry him? God only knows, but my first bet is his access to a chunk of change.

Besides being rich and probably throwing a party with some good food and wine, he has a cool lesbian sister (with a kind of Chastity Bono feel to her) with an equally cool partner (short spikey hair, endless cool glasses) who are from San Francisco who may be there. Speaking with them may encourage me to go.

If that wasn’t enough, the marriage was written up in our local Denver Post gossip column. Oh joy! I quote:

HOPELESS ROMANTIC? Mayor John Hickenlooper’s former director of economic development, will take a third shot at marriage when he weds a former city employee now working for Zocalo Community Development.

“My first ex-wife congratulated me and said, ‘I hope the third time’s a charm,’ ” he told me of the impending nuptials, set for the Thanksgiving weekend in Mexico .

The newlyweds will throw a big reception in the spring in the “swanky” Hilltop home they’re renovating. “I bought a yellow diamond engagement ring because she’s brought lots of sunshine to my life,” he said.

As he has brought lots of …..? to her life? Hot animal sex? Secret fulfillment of a desire to be with an unfunny Dan Akryod? The desire to be the third wife of a nerd?

I’m sick.

Last night I lost most of my voice and I feel kind of cruddy all around.  But I’m going to admit something: I’d rather be at work than chase my 18 month-old around all day.

Because he knows I have no voice to scold with and no energy to chase him around it would be a difficult day. This morning while getting him ready he refused to put his shoes on, grabbed the plunger and ran around with it, started yelling through a empty toilet paper roll he found in the trash, bucked being put in his carseat etc., etc, etc.

What is happening to me? This year I only worked six months for my company but was paid money back for unused sick time. That has never happened to me in the history of me with sick time. Pre-child I was the person who chooses a mental health day as a sick day if I hadn’t been sick in three months. Now I think would I actually get sleep if I stayed home? Maybe work is more relaxing. (At least this month.)

At one point during my maternity leave I thought that SAHMs (Stay at Home Moms) had a blissful experience, tending to their children, cooking, cleaning, etc. It would be so much better than working a real job, right?

I was so wrong. I apologize to all stay at home moms everywhere for even thinking that (even if it was referring mostly to my life.)

I couldn’t do it. I would be the SAHM who took their kid to daycare so I could get stuff done. I admit it. That’s me. I have flunked the SAHM entrance exam.

p.s.  I’m half joking here. I’d love to stay at home with my son. I’d probably figure out how to make it work, but seriously, on days like today, SAHM are the saints of parenthood. 

Yesterday I was sucked into Ancestry.com for hours. It was like an elaborate puzzle I could not quit. It’s similar to putting together a 10,000 piece puzzle and I’m thrilled I have the edges complete.

I signed up for a 14 day free trial. Those tricky bastards. They must know how addictive their service is. Know, I want to know more!!

Plus, its so easy to find things. Its amazing.

This morning my husband was dressing my son. There was lots of vroom vroom noises coming from his room. When I got inside I saw that my husband had dressed him in his motorcylce shirt and jeans.

“Daddy has PMS,” my husband said.

“How so?”

“Parked Motorcycle Syndrom.”
Hmmm. That explains the irritablity, and I’m hoping that’s the only similar symptom.

Also a shout out to my Aunt Bridget! Hope you’re feeling better than normal soon!

It’s almost tax season again. Since I hand my ass out to pay for my house’s interest I no longer dread tax time. We usually get a good refund.

But the logic goes, you should aim to break even at tax time, getting very little back or paying very little in.

My husband and I were watching Suzie Orman on Larry King the other night. For the record, my husband hates her. He thinks she goes around stating the obvious like a finacial version of Rachel Ray. Case in point follows.

So a caller asks Suzie if she should use her tax refund to pay off credit card debt or put it into savings. She told her to pay off the credit cards because you lose more in interest on the cards than you gain in interest from savings. She then tolld her to aim for no refund because its like giving Uncle Sam a interest free loan. “You wouldn’t even give you kids an interest free loan, and after all Uncle Sam isn’t really your uncle!”

“Augh!” my husband moaned, “God that woman is an idiot. Shut it off!”

And all this time, I really thought he was my drunken, broke, poorly dressed Uncle. Wow, she really popped that bubble.

I’m so sick of every little piece that is put together to construct one Dr. Brown bottle.  I’m sick of the nipple, the rubber thing, the bottle, the straw-like thing..every piece. After almost 18 months, we are throwing in the hat and soon there will be NO….MORE…BOTTLES….in my house. What a dream! What joy!

Since this probably won’t fly with my bottle addicted son, I found a fake out solution. Its a sippy cup with a silcone spout. That should solve his two a day fix for the bottle. Its a big boy cup with a chewy nossile. So far he likes it.

I didn’t always loath Dr. Brown bottles. In fact, praise Dr. Brown, because when my son was little he was a gassy, spit up prone kind of kid. These bottles helped easy some of that messy lifestyle.

I remember one day on my maternity leave I was at the gym and dropped him off at the gym babysitter room. About twenty minutes later I was called to the room. The girl who was monitoring the room had help. My son was slung over the shoulder of a very massive body building sales rep and being gently burped. I did a double take.

“Your baby is gassy,” he said in his deep slow voice with a concerned look on his face.

“Yes,” I said still bewildered, “yes he is.”