Define "Insanity"

What really is the definition of insanity? Not the clinical term...but just the every day, anybody term. Because lately more and more I feel like I'm losing my mind.

Like yesterday. I brought T's business checkbook to work to write a check for an award entry and then planned to pay bills after the work day was over. I wrote the check, put the checkbook down on the floor near my bag and thought "I really shouldn't leave this just lying on my floor." and tucked it away in my bag.

Come 5pm, I am searching HIGH AND LOW for the freaking checkbook that has apparently vanished into thin air. I mean checked my pockets, my purse, my canvas bag, all my files, in box, out box, copy room, floor, EVERYWHERE. And as compulsive as I am, I checked all those locations like 5-10 times. Especially the canvas bag where I SWORE I put the damn thing. Nothing. So - in my regular daily exhaustion - I start to panic. I just know it's gone. Who in the hell would take a checkbook? At least there was only one check left in it. But still.

So I call in the troops. Headed down to the office manager's office and requested assistance. Sent out an agency-wide email pleading for extra lookers. And then spent the next 30 minutes having everyone question me on where I'd been, if I'd looked here, if I'd looked there. All the while I'm growing more and more stricken.

How in the hell could I lose a damn checkbook? How in the hell could the thing vanish in 2 feet of space? Am I that big of an idiot that I can't keep up with my own personal property? I'm 36...surely I can manage to keep up with something so important.

So - I take deep breaths. I am trying to remain calm and not completely wig out. Things like this happen. To everyone. On a regular basis. I really just need to cut myself some slack. However, that is my biggest vice. Cutting myself slack is the hardest thing in the world. I'm learning how. But I'm still in Kindergarten. Crap - let's face it. It's more like the Toddler room or PreK. Anyway...

Now I'm asked for the 5th time if I've looked in my canvas bag. YES. 10+ times. Flipping through. Pulling everything out. Flipping through. Pulling everything out. But - I'll do it again. And I'll be...there was the little f**ker just sitting there.

Now - please tell my that I'm not insane???

Thank Goodness It Wasn't His First Word

So if you know me at all, you know that my level of cursing is quite infamous. When I was pregnant with my first, B, we joked about what his first words might be and came to the conclusion that we would be LUCKY if it was not "MF." Fortunately for me, it wasn't.

B is unbelievably bright and amazingly verbal. He started babbling at 10 months, was using sign language shortly thereafter and spoke his first word just shy of 11 months....dada.

And now, here we are just shy of 3.5 and I am in awe of the language skills he employs. You always hear from anyone and everyone who wants to give you advice about children that little ears really ain't so little and being a "parrot" is an understatement. However, in our case, B is not only a parrot - this child actually understands the context of the words we use and uses them appropriately following hearing them ONCE.

So - my little story. I'm sure from the description above you can clearly see the picture that is my daily frustration outburst(s). Although I felt like my mutterings were under my breath...little ears ain't so little. We were hiking our way through the mountain of weekly laundry and B was helping me sort colors, whites, towels, reds, little socks, etc. and after we created multiple piles I was asking him to slow down. After several requests, and the complete refusal to hear me due to the enjoyment of flinging clothes across the laundry room, I said quite firmly "B - leave it be." And then he muttered, with total exasperation and flinging his hands up in the air "[sigh], F**k it."

My first reaction, to my amazement, was a bit of shock. Which then registered into slight humor as I followed him into the kitchen asking what he said. The response "Nothing." After repeated questions, along with one final assurance that I would not be angry if he told me the truth, my little baby told me what he said. I proceeded to explain that was bad language and was not to be used in our home. I haven't heard it since. And I haven't said it since.

Luckily in this case, we hadn't explained the proper definition of this phrase and therefore my innocent little one really didn't know what it meant. But he sure knew how to use it properly.

??????

So how does this thing work anyway? I guess you just write the thought for the moment and post it out there for the world to see. Thank goodness I'm not a shy person. Otherwise...well...I guess I wouldn't be writing anything. And I wouldn't be experiencing anything new.

Speaking of new...I do have a new screen name. My husband, King Paranoia, felt like the name needed to be more anonymous. Fine. OK. Not a problem. I've made the switch.

A bit of background on "Deuce." While pregnant, we named each of the babies with a nickname - to only be used while in the womb. Our first was Doodles. Our second was Deuce. I loved both, but thoroughly enjoyed the humor of the second and it didn't come to us until midway through. So I want to keep it around for a little while. Plus - it does have a double meaning with having two boys.

There you have it.

Next post - kid stories. You know you are chomping at the bit to hear about B's first correct, in context use of "F**k It."

The Beginning

Not much to say here...just thought I'd give this blog thing a try. But - it's late at the moment and I'm a bit too tired to try and figure this thing out.

But! I'm thrilled to say that we are now into the holiday weekend. Thank god. Monday will be my first day off from work in 15 weeks since returning from maternity leave. And I'm looking forward to it with all my heart and soul.

No plans. Just chilling out with the family. Speaking of the family...here are a few pics...