Twitter me this, Twitter me that

I know, I broke up with Twitter months ago. It didn't last long. Only long enough for me to learn a little more about it and realize that we could compromise and have a relationship that was give and take; not all take.

Then Twitter went all hell-fire crazy with the whole Ashton Kutcher/CNN countdown to 1,000,000. I got drawn into it because of the charity aspect. I wanted to see what would happen. And I paid close attention to people going back and forth about how stupid it was, how big Ashton's ego is, how stupid it was for CNN to get involved in such a silly thing ... yadda, yadda, yadda. In the end, Malaria No More benefited and the lives of children were saved.

And people still had something to complain about. They were lives of children in another country that were saved, not lives here. PEOPLE! They are children. Does it matter where they are? Do they deserve less of a chance at life than children elsewhere?

Since the race to 1,000,000 is over, I have turned my attention to the fact that it reminds me a lot of high school. There are cliques everywhere. It's cool to follow certain people and if you don't ... well, you are nobody. It's not cool to follow certain people and if you do ... well, you are nobody and you are a fool. OH. MY. GOD. Can't we all just get along?

I mostly "follow" bloggers who I tend to read on a daily basis. I have a couple of friends that are on there as well. I "follow" Soliel Moonfrye. Yes, Punky freakin' Brewster. Because she is pretty damn cool and I found her on Twitter through her store, The Little Seed. I would totally shop at her store if I, 1) lived in LA and 2) made enough money to shop at her store!

So, in the eyes of many, I'm lame as shit because I'm following a celebrity. Because we all know that celebritites aren't people, right? Can I get an amen? They have nothing important to say and if you follow a celebrity you are a loser. That seems to be the general consensus of some and I find that completely ludicrous. Seriously? A celebrity couldn't possibly be planted in reality enough to have something to say that anyone who is not a celebrity could relate to!

I call bullshit. It seems to me that the few celebrity streams I have glanced at are actually interacting with the people that follow them. Maybe not everyone that is following, but honestly, how do you interact personally with 200,000 people? 1,000,000 people? It's impossible.

I think someone needs to come up with a Twitter manual. All of the Twitter elite should get together with their little # hashmarks that say secret club or something and write a damn manual. That way we can all follow the same rules and be just alike and all be one big happy family. Or Communist? Same thing, right?

Conversation with a Co-Worker

Me to shipping supervisor: Such and such client wants us to ship this product to Ghana.

Her: Where's that?

Me: It's on the African continent. The product cost $2,000.00 to produce and the freight is $2,500.00.

Her: Where? How much?

Me: I think it might be cheaper to call their neighbors up north in Europe.

Her: Yeah, at least order it from the same continent.

Me: Oh, are those jelly beans. May I have some?

That's my typical day folks! And they wonder I get so frustrated and hide in my cubicle ...

She's growing up too fast

I remember that in the tired days of her infancy, I would bounce back and forth between wanting her to stay small and completely dependant upon me for the rest of her life and wanting her to come on and grow some already so I can do things with you. I love doing things with her and spending time with her more than anything on this earth. But there is no bouncing back and forth anymore. I just want her stay small and dependant on me for the rest of her life. She's growing up way too fast for me and it sets me in a tailspin at times.

She has opinions galore and tells me at least 2,479,363 times a day that she's a "big girl" now. She doesn't want my help and strongly believes that she does not need it, ever.

On the way to gymnastics Saturday, I told her that I would be helping her. She promptly told me that she didn't need my help. I told her all of the mommies would be helping. Her response, "those kids need help, I don't!" I'm guessing that this does not bode well for our future teen years. I know I won't be anymore ready for her independence then than I am now. It is going to be a struggle.

One of the most beautiful things I have witnessed is watching her find herself as an individual and blossom into the incredible child that stands before me now. It is also one of the hardest things I have had to endure because the more she grows, the less she needs me in a sense.

Maybe it wouldn't be so hard if she weren't so adamant about spreading her little wings and exerting so much independence all at once. If she weren't so resistant to my attempts to keep her closer.

Or, if her father weren't so damned persistent in trying to make her "Daddy's Girl" and more dependent on him. That one right there ... that stings at times. I have never entertained the notion that she would ever be anything other than "Mommy's Girl." Yet, the minute she is mad at me over the slightest little thing, she wants her Daddy! As much as I love seeing them together and watching their bond grow now that he is home, those particular occasions when she prefers him over me makes me wish that I had went ahead in my twenties and ordered the "popsicle pop" I had so often thought of because I didn't need a man in my life to be a mother.

I didn't do so though, and now I have to share her. He comforts her when she is mad at or upset with me. He helps her do things when Mommy is too busy to be there every single second of the day. He carries her Easter basket for her so she can search for her treasures without the hindrance of dragging the blasted thing around. And he loves her. A popsicle pop couldn't do that.

In the end, she still looks to me when she's happy and wants to celebrate her achievements. She looks to me for comfort when she needs it. She comes to me for hugs, kisses and a refill of her sippy cup. This motherhood gig is harder than I ever thought it would be. It also offers all of the rewards that I knew would be there and more. Being a mother has defined who I am and I embrace it, and her, with all of my heart.

Gymnastics

I haven't been that great on the Mommy front when it comes to getting my child involved in extra curricular activities thus far. With her father being gone for 18 months and the mounting debt that ensued, I never really had the money or the time to do so.

His being home now and working full-time has eased up the day to day debt and given me a little more time to pursue other interests and I signed her up for a gymnastics class over a month ago. I thought it would be cute. Preschool gymnastics for six weeks to get her out of the house and interacting with children her own age beyond her daycare classroom. Nothing could be better, right?

Wrong. I somehow missed the entire concept of it being a parent/child participation activity! How do you miss something like that? Don't get me wrong, I love doing things with her and I am sure it will be fun but a few things have me worried.

1. NOT flexible. Not in the least! Will likely injure myself in places I did not know exist.

2. OLD! I'm not going to be as young as the other mothers in that class. I am almost willing to bet an entire paycheck on it.

3. Pictures. How in the hell am I supposed to take pictures of my child in her very first, oh so cute gymnastics class if I am participating???

Number three up there. That is the killer for me. I am in heaven watching my child in her moments of pure joy and being able to photograph those moments as keepsakes. The only person who may be interested in going is my mother. And well, she admits whole heartedly that she SUCKS at taking pictures. I bought her a digital camera years ago to try to encourage her with the thought that she can delete them if they aren't what she wanted, so she doesn't waste money having bad pictures developed. That idea ... it didn't work so well. Dad will take pictures all day long if the opportunity presents itself. Dad also has a bad back and is in almost constant pain, so going to a gymnastics class at 10AM on Saturday mornings to stand on a hard floor and take pictures for 45 minutes. Not likely happening!

It's driving me bat-shit crazy at the moment that I haven't yet figured out how to participate with my child and take pictures. I am at a loss.

Madeline

Holding her ...

… just a little tighter, and a little longer these days because you never know when it can just be taken away. In the blink of an eye, you can lose your child and the moments you thought could wait, will no longer be available to you. I don’t know how many times I have told Sage, just one minute or we’ll do it tomorrow. I can’t do that anymore because there is no guarantee that there will be a tomorrow.

In the past week, two bloggers that I read have lost their children. I can’t imagine the pain they are going through nor do I want to. It is a pain that no parent should ever have to endure.

Little Maddie, was just shy of turning 17 months old. Today, at 2:30PM PST, Heather and Mike, will be remembering their beautiful little girl and it breaks my heart. I will be lighting a candle and holding onto my own child and remembering the precious little imp that I have read about and adored from afar.

I will also be thinking of precious Thalon and his parents, Shana and Rich.

I can’t imagine their grief. I can’t imagine recovering from something like this. I don’t think I would be strong enough to do so. I know that anyone reading this would say “you do what you have to do” but I just can’t imagine it.

Please support Heather and remember Maddie by contributing to March of Dimes in Maddie’s name. Heather will be walking in her memory on April 25th. Or you can send a donation directly to Heather and Mike to help them financially in their time of need. A mailbox has been set up for them to receive donations.

Mike & Heather Spohr11870 Santa Monica Blvd. #106-514West Los Angeles, CA 90025

I am sure the wonderful and supportive friends that have stepped up to help Heather and Mike, will also try to help Shana and Rich. When I find any info on that, I will be sure to post it for those who wish to help.

Dear Purveyor of Rotten Teeth ...

My child incessantly speaks about you and you are quickly becoming numero uno on my list of despised commercial holiday characters. I stood in the middle of a crowded mall with a fever of 103 only to have my child not want to sit by you because you wouldn't speak to her. You know, the Easter Bunny does speak on all of those silly television shows. Would it have killed you to at the very least said "hello little girl" as I was forking over $40 for out of focus, cheesy pictures? Seriously? All you did was hold your hands together and make this hippity-hoppity motion that made it look like you were suffering from withdrawal.

So, since you freaked her out the other day she has devised a plan to scare you. She is insisting on staying up ALL night on Saturday so she can sneak down the stairs when you come into the house to deliver her Easter basket. That means no sleep for Mommy! Not cool.

Little do you know, she is really not going to be happy with you come Sunday. Oh no she won't. Her "kids" at daycare have been telling her how much candy the Easter Bunny brings and you will only be bringing her books, sidewalk chalk and her precious Little People. A few pieces of candy may find their way into her basket, but not the plethora of chocolate that she is expecting thanks to the little gremlins at daycare.

Consider this a warning, you cotton-tailed pain in my butt ... you may not be that big in her eyes next year.