Tag Archives: Note to Self


I read something this morning that I’ve been thinking about all day.  In one of the (many) blogs I read, Mr Lady talks about being pissed slightly annoyed at a mother who parked in a narrow, snow and ice covered, no-parking pick-up and drop off lane at her kid’s school.  She got mad, wrote a letter and now is on the PTA, directing traffic and organizing other parents to get behind her on this.

I don’t work, as you may know.  And I  miss it.  I dream about getting up early, showering in the morning (instead of late afternoon, or not at all), getting dressed up, and driving to a job.  I wouldn’t mind long commutes, as long as I have my coffee and a book-on-tape.  I  miss listening to the news in the morning, and being around adults, having adult conversations.

Of course, in my dream, I’m working someplace where I love my job and I’m fulfilled with my career.  That’s the crux of the issue, I think.  I stay home with Claire all day, everyday.  Sure, I see her learning things that I’ve taught her.  I get to see her grow up and change before my eyes.  I’m lucky that I don’t HAVE to work.  But, I’m not fullfilled.  I’m been reading more, which I never had time for when I was working.  And I get to cook now, which I never wanted to do when I was working.  But when Claire learns a new word, it’s me who gets to hear it all day.  It’s “nope” by the way.  I HATE that word, it’s just dripping with blatent disreguard for my rules.

Anyway, after reading Mr. Lady’s words today, I realized that the thing I miss about working is feeling like I’m DOING something.  Feeling like I’m making a difference, and am worth something to the people I work with.  Claire’s not so good with the thank you’s, is what I’m saying.  But, I CAN do something.  I CAN make a difference in some way.

I need to be more like Mr. Lady and FIND the things that I’m passionate about.  I know there are things that I feel strongly about, I just need to find them and get off my (ever-growing) ass and DO SOMETHING.

Of course, as I write this, I’m sitting on my couch, drinking coffee.  Sometimes it’s really easy to stay home and not do anything.

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Stick a fork in me

I’m done.  I can’t handle staying home anymore.  If it’s not the never-ending, overflowing sink of dishes (seriously.  There are three of us in this house.  And one of our dishes are made entirely of plastic.  How in the WORLD do we have so many dirty coffee cups?!); or the toys in the living room that I swear I JUST put away; or our bedroom, which STILL isn’t unpacked, nevermind that we’ve lived in this house for almost 2 months, and is filled to the brim with dirty clothes (because my lovely husband REFUSES to put his D@MN dirty clothes in the hamper, then have the audacity to complain that he never has any clean clothes.  Dude, the only clothes that I can TELL are dirty are your effin’ socks, and that’s only because they smell like someone DIED in them)

All that? I could handle.  If Claire was being even remotely managable.

MrsMillerTime, you might want to skip this part.

Everything I say is met with either “No,” which I can sorta handle, or a full blown hissy fit, complete with a crumpled body falling dramatically to the floor, and screams that are no doubt making the neighbours think I’m murdering pigs in my free time.  It can be something as harmless as, “Claire, let’s put your shoes on.” You’d think I just asked her to kill a f@cking puppy or burn her eyes out with hot sticks (which, coincedently, I have the urge to do on a DAILY basis).

Eat? Forget it.  Why would I ask her to subject herself to something as terrible as FOOD?!

Get buckled in her carseat?  Might as well be driving her to her death.

Everything is a fight, from getting dressed (we’re becoming hermits because I refuse to let her leave the house without pants), to taking a bath (“What do you mean I can’t stand up in the tub? HOW DARE YOU?!”)

I can ignore the dramatic meltdowns for little things; I simply say “Claire, I’m going into the kitchen.  When you’re done, come find me.”  But for things like standing in the tub, or getting buckled, I can’t just let her go and walk away.

I found the end of my rope tonight.  After going to the gynocologist with her in the morning, and the resulting fight to get dressed, one 1 hour nap, and a fight every time I put her in the carset (sorry that we had to go to the store to get YOU milk.  I won’t do it again), we went to my niece’s dance recital where she proceeded to perfect the limp fall onto the floor when I wouldn’t let her spin in circles while the other kids were doing their recital.

It didn’t help that my sister-in-law, brother-in-law, his mom and sister, and my mother-in-law were all there and not one of them tried to help me.  In fact, after seeing both my niece and Claire (they’re the same age) get in a little fight over the kid’s chairs, my mother-in-law picked up my niece.  Even though Jane’s other grandma and other aunt were right there.

I lost it on my way home.  DH offered to take Claire for the night (um, duh) so I could get some coffee or a drink or something.  But I can’t think of a worse evening than to spend it alone after a terrible day.

So, I’m sitting in my garage, as far away from the Devil Incarnate as I can and trying to re-group.

I hate it here.


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What I think.

A few thoughts I’ve had while washing my face, which by the way I’ve been totally doing every night, except that night I forgot, but I didn’t so much as forget as I passed out before I could make it to the bathroom (even though the bathroom is on my WAY to my bed), but to my credit I had been drinking the bottle of wine I got for $4.50 at the W@l-Marts (which, incidentally, didn’t give me a hangover.  No hangover, AND cost effective?  This is an adult beverage I can get behind!).

File all that under things that no one cares about, except my mother and the makers of Desiten (because you’re supposed to put Desiten on a zit to make it go away, but I haven’t had any zits to put it ON because I’ve been washing my face every night.  And morning!  And I’ve been moisturizing! And using wrinkle cream!)

Hi, I like commas and parenthesis.  The end.

1. In this day and age, why haven’t they come up with something that turns thoughts into written text?  My mind goes so fast (See: above ramblings about diaper cream and cheap wine), that I don’t write it all down, and I typically don’t even shower most days so the odds of me learning shorthand are pretty slim.  I mean, just imagine with Jenny The Bloggess could do with such technology!  Although I supposed what she writes is not far off from what she thinks.  There are some people who write a blog post in Microsoft Word, then edit it a few times, then post it, and there are some who type until their fingers get tired, then hit publish.  My money’s on the fact that Jenny is of the latter persuasion.

2.  I have done nothing of consequence in the last 3 days.  Nothing.  The highlights of my days are naptime (so I can clean up everything in the house so it’s nice and orderly when Claire wakes up.  So, you know, she cal pull it all out again), and 4 pm when Gilmore Girls comes on (not that I ever get to WATCH Gilmore Girls.  No, it’s Nemo Nemo Nemo all the time in this house hold.  Finding Nemo?  Try FUCK Nemo).  This is my life and it bores me to tears.

3.  This is a picture of a wall hanging that was so kindly left by our landlord.  In our bedroom.  If you can’t tell by the (upside down) picture, it’s carpet.  And very disturbing.  Even more disturbing?  The fact that not one, but TWO people have asked if they can have it.  And yet it’s still in our bedroom, just glaring at me while I sleep, with all it’s carpet-ness.


4.  Small lines + my handwriting = This.  Horrible penmanship.photo7

5.  While watching Condi Rice play the piano for the Queen a few weeks ago on the local news:
JR:  This is horrible news.
Me: What?! Is she getting out of the political game to  play the piano professionally?  That IS bad news! If she’s getting out, who else is leaving?  What is Obama going to do?  Is the world SO BAD?  And why become a pianist?  Why not go into the private sector? It must be worse than we thought!  Oh NO!
JR: No, I mean channel 2 is bad local news.  The good news comes on at 10.

6. Why do I get so motivated in the middle of the night?  It’s almost midnight and I know if I don’t go to bed now, I’ll need more coffee than I currently own, but all I can think is of all the things I could be doing.  I could clean the kitchen – Claire’s asleep and JR’s in the garage and I could totally get it done.  I should watch Dirty Sexy Money and Grey’s Anatomy and Gilmore Girls.  How will I sleep until I know what crazy hijinks those interns at Seattle Grace got into this week?  Blog.  I really should be blogging and I need to start leaving more comments on the blogs I read everyday.  I could be missing out on meeting my new Internet BFF because I’m not commenting.  I think I’ll just go watch Conan.

7. I went grocery shopping and among other things I bought a ten pound log? tube? of ground beef.  I’ve never seen ten pounds of beef in one place before, and Claire LOVED it. Damn thing was bigger than her.


This has been “Cori’s Deep Thoughts.”  I’m totally rethinking my idea to leave a notebook by my bed.

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I wrote this yesterday, but it was Wordless Wednesday…so…

I’m wearing a dress today because I couldn’t be bothered to put on pants.

[Side note: I’m of the camp that just can’t bear the thought of  ending a sentence with a preposition.  Hence “put on pants” not “put pants on.”]

No pants = no pockets, in this case.  So, nowhere to hide my lighter and doorkey.

Except my bra.

Note to self: don’t put lighter back in aforementioned bra immediately after use.

[Side note again: I really like the word “aforementioned.”]


Got it.

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