Dear Past Erin,

On April 29, 2008, no matter how tired you are, no matter how many times you were up with the baby, don't start your day with coffee.
Your baby will cry all. day. long.
Switch to decaf.
Trust me--have I ever steered you wrong?
Sincerely yours,
Future Erin

MMmmmmmm...

Remember how much I love coffee?

Me, too.

Dear Walgreens Pharmacist,

I told you so.
Amazingly enough, your boss didn't sound very surprised to hear my complaint.
About you.
Good luck finding a wife.
Sincerely,
Erin

Dear Walgreens Pharmacist,

Listen, you slack-jawed nincompoop.
When I dropped off my prescription on Thursday and you told me it wouldn't be ready until Friday at 5pm, I thought, "Well...I guess I'll live." I told you how much pain I was in and asked if there was anything you could do to speed up the process. Remember how you promised to help and that you would call me when it was done?
It's Monday.
I haven't been this angry in a long time. I'm so angry, in fact, that I intend to call your boss just as soon as I figure out your name.
I wouldn't call your boss if you hadn't stood there like a sniveling ninny with your tongue hanging out saying things like, "Unfortunately I didn't call you, but I put it together on Saturday."
Unfortunately??? WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?? Is this my fault? Is that what you're implying here? And, you did this on SATURDAY?!? Are you fricking kidding me??
Some day, when you get married, you chubby-faced, wanna-be doctor (if you can get some protuberant fool to marry you), and you have a baby and your wife is at home crying because her breasts hurt so bad that she doesn't want to feed her infant, I. HOPE. YOU. THINK. OF. ME.
Sincerely,
Erin
p.s. For the record, I don't think you are sorry. Oh, but I will make you sorry.

Rockin' the Suburbs Again

On Monday afternoon at about 4pm, Richard brought home a new toy.
Guitar Hero III.
I was hesitant to try it, but decided it couldn't hurt...until I saw this:

Lookin gooooooooood.

At 10pm, we realized we hadn't eaten.

Is Hell Frozen?

Check out Uncle Rico's new blog!
(Also known as the Hus.)

Rockin' the Suburbs

Last night after an unfortunate sequence of events that turned out to be completely heavenly ordained, I had the joy of going to see Ben Folds with my brother and sister. It was the first time in years that just the three of us have been able to spend time together, just the three of us.
The music was great, but the real joy of the evening was bonding with the sibs. I spent the evening wondering if they were as happy to be spending time with me as I was with them.
It was hard to be gone from the baby for so many hours, but it was something I definitely needed. I'm completely exhausted today, but once again, it was totally worth it.

One by One

We have ants.

I realize that this statement combined with my last post make us look pretty disgusting. The thing is, I can NOT figure out where they are coming from. I am going to lose my mind. Here's the thing, though. These aren't your normal ants. These are STEALTH ants.

I see one, I remove my boob from the baby's mouth, grab a tissue, stand up to go after the ant, and it's gone. Disappeared. Vanished.

I sit down, put my boob back in the now angry baby's mouth, and it all starts over again.

It's like some sort of cosmic joke--a sick and twisted episode of Seinfeld. An episode where Jerry meets a new family named the Disgustingtons.

* * *

I tried to find an image of an ant on Google, but was so disgusted that I couldn't follow through. Now I swear they're crawling all over me. Bleck.

Wiping

Do you ever start wiping stuff down--the front of the dishwasher, the finger prints off of the fridge, the cupboards--and scoot around the entire kitchen on your butt because you just keep seeing more and more grossness that needs wiping off and disinfecting?
How did it come to be that I live in an entire house of dust, fingerprints and drips?
On the bright side, I no longer need to sweep.

Whimsy

Yesterday at 4pm, Richard and I decided on a whim to drive to Wausau and visit my parents for the weekend.
We left the house three hours later at 7pm.
As I laid down to sleep at 1am, I thought to myself, "No more whims."

Food for Thought

It occurred to me tonight while watching "Idol Gives Back," [gag] to wonder how many other of the millions of viewers had their boob in somebody's mouth.

Dear Haircutting Girl,

Thank you for your congratulations on the new baby.
A note: if you make me take my glasses off, I can't see what you're doing, but I CAN still hear just fine. There is no need to shout to me about any of the following:
-Breast pumps
-Breastmilk, frozen or otherwise
-Mucous plugs
-Post-pregnancy weight (This might have been the worst topic of all. I didn't need you to shout that I will lose all my weight--which, for the record, I already have, so thanks for that.)
Sincerely,
Erin
p.s. You did a good job on my bangs, though.

It's 5:41am

And I'm awake.

Still.

Freckle Face

This weekend, someone said, "Your baby doesn't have freckles yet. Do you think she will?"
I said, "Oh, probably." Smile.
She said, "I'm sure you just hate them, but I think they're adorable."
I didn't think people said stuff like that unless they were at my place of employment...

What stained towels?

Day to Day

My days start at about 11pm lately.
Our current schedule:
11pm-Finish up the last feeding of the day, change baby and get ready for bed.
3am-Feed and change baby.
3:04am-Change baby.
4:15am-Change baby.
4:25am-Snuggle wide awake baby.
4:45am-Put snoozing baby down.
5am-Fall asleep again.
7am-Feed and change baby.
8am-Send baby to snuggle with Daddy in the living room. (Daddy is a morning person.)
8:01am-Fall asleep again.
9am(ish)-Baby goes back to sleep.
11am-Feed and change baby.
12pm-Put baby in swing or bassinet to find something to eat, but decide to pee instead. Forget to eat because baby is fussing.
12:30pm-Change baby.
1pm-Feed and change baby.
1:15pm-Put on different pajamas.
1:30pm-Change baby.
2pm-Change baby.
2:30pm-Baby falls asleep.
3:30pm-Feed and change baby.
4pm-Check out Oprah (Sorry, Carla).
4:30pm-Doze off on couch.
5:30pm-Fold laundry. Move folded laundry to bedroom.
6pm-Load dishwasher.
6:20pm-Consider brusing teeth.
7pm-Watch American Idol
7:15pm-Feed baby, hand to Daddy to change baby.
7:45pm-Change baby.
8pm-Realize I haven't eaten all day.
8:01pm-Eat cereal, toast and potato chips for dinner.
9pm-Shower and brush teeth.
10:30pm-Remember in a panic to APPLY DEODERANT (or else).
11pm-Feed and change baby.

Happy Birthday, Lauren!

You are unBEETable!

Speaking of Green

I calculated our Carbon Footprint today.
Our household produces 20.2 Metric Tons of CO2 per year.
Hunh.

SAHM

A friend sent me this email the other day. I laughed, but didn't think about it too much...until this morning when I realized that I've taken three baths in the last 24 hours and not used soap in any of them.

Dis.gus.ting.

Anyhow, here's the email:

Dear Erin,

I want to officially welcome you to Stay At Home Motherhood!! Youare a SAHM!! YEAH!

Some of the perks include but are not limited to...

-Optional showers

-Jammie day (everyday)

-Sweats when it's not jammie day

-Spit up stains on jammies or sweats

-Leaking

-Spilling

-Let down

-Gazing at a newborn for hours it seems

-Kissing that newbaby face and skin

-Baby Magic smell

-Hours and hours of video footage of sleeping babe,yawning babe, baby with hiccups, baby smiling...

-Quiet nursing time when all is right with the world

-NOT HAVING TO GET UP AND GET GOING OUT THE DOOR TO WORK!!

* * *

Guess what!

I'm not at work.

I think it's time to celebrate. (With soap.)

AI Irritation

Does it irritate anybody else that they're taking questions from viewers now?

When King Louis and Marie Antoinette were executed, do you think they made them wait through an hour of ridiculous questions from the audience and gay interviews of former contestants?

Um, no. Something tells me it was more of a quick job. Like, "Let's just get it over with. We don't need to drag out the inevitable."

I wish American Idol was more of an "OFF WITH THEIR HEADS" type of show.

I'm just saying.