As to this weeks resolutions: I’m going to cheat and list some things that are done or half-way done. So without further ado, the list, week 2:

1. Plan a damn meal….dammit! Seriously, I’ve been whipping together meals with no fore-thought for like, weeks now, time to get my act together. I’m already working on this one - I have some beans soaking for some chili tomorrow. Just have to do some grocery shopping.
2. Get my bathroom to the point where I can actually take a shower in it. Done. Just finished taking one with Liam, instead of his normal bath. Awesome, I love my new shower. Pictures to come soon.
3. Get a haircut and get a real job Well, get a haircut anyway. Yeah, the guy I get a haircut from always bitches at me cause I wait too long to get my haircut (saves money, and gets me a few weeks of that shaggy….um….Shaggy look. Carleen digs scruffy dudes. Again, this one is pretty much done, I have an appointment tomorrow.

Totally unfair, I know, but this week was an absolute horror for both me and Carleen starting from Sunday night, so I’m gonna cut myself some slack for this week. In more positive news, on sunday me and Carleen went and played tennis for the first time since Savannah while MorMor (Grandma) and MorFar (Grandpa) watched Liam at the park. It was awesome - my body has been telling me to get up off my ass for months now, and I finally listened. It felt great to get back on the courts again - I my serves haven’t deteriorated quite as badly as I thought they would, so that’s a plus.

More posts to come soon, hopefully, I still haven’t told you about our new toy, I will surely get to that within, oh, the month or somewhere thereabouts.

1. Finish the molding in the bathroom. This bathroom should have been done weeks ago. My continuing struggle with this tiny, tiny room is frustrating, so instead of saying (as was my original intention here) “I’m finishing the bathroom this weekend”, which has been uttered more times than I can count, I will simply break this nearly-finished task into bite-sized chunks. Ten bucks says this “bite-sized chunk” takes me 3 more weeks.
2. Fold all the laundry. This is so prevalent it could become a permanent fixture to this little project. I’m great at doing the laundry, I do it all the time, but I never seem to actually get around to folding it, until our bed becomes a mountain (the qualifications for the label “mountain” are much easier to achieve in Oklahoma) - Liam can sled nearly all year round thanks to my laundry habits.
3. No snacking during Lost. Lost has been my arch-nemesis these past weeks. We’re into season 3 and I’ve gained 10 lbs. True, not all of that can be attributed to Lost, and it’s not like I’m eating nachos and hamburgers or anything, in all honesty, I think I eat very well, but I have two problems: portion control, and activity level. Does fruit count as snacking? Cause Mike likes him some apples and would be glad to chomp on that during Lost as long as apples don’t count as snacks.

That’s it for now, I guess I’ll come back next week with the results and we can see how I did. Good luck to us all!

Me? I mix it up, baby - randomized all the time, unless I’ve just bought a new album. And mostly music is background noise while I work on the house, though certain songs require my full attention. A few songs that fit that bill of recent, are Jethro Tull’s Aqualung, Cross-Eyed Mary and Locomotive Breath. I LOVE the flute solo’s (course, why else listen to J.T.?). Tell me about your listening habits.

And yeah, I was there too:

I really can’t stand that all these pictures are blurry, goofy camera….

Recently, it became time for me to slowly step off Pred, dropping from 40mg to 20mg. The day after I dropped down all my symptoms returned. So at a recent doctors visit, I was given the option of trying another, higher dosage of Prednisone, or stepping up to the big guns - Remicade. I chose to try Remicade. These some powerful drugs. It’s given slowly, via IV over a period of about 2-3 hours (bring a book or two, yo’) and there can be some serious, but rare, side effects. It’s an immunosuppressant, so you sneezers and coughers stay the hell away from me. I have to take one treatment next week, another in 2 weeks and another 6 weeks from now, then after that it’s every 8 weeks. The biggest problem? $8000 PER treatment. I talked to my insurance company to find out how much is covered, basically, after my deductible is met, I’m responsible for $1500 per treatment. Still, that’s harsh. For $8000 THEY should supply ME with reading material. I’ve still got to talk to my doctor to find out how long I need to be on it for, but I gather at least a year. So, you know, if anyone knows a rich, divorced/widowed woman who’s looking to pay for sex, could you send her my way? I’d prefer that to “working the corner”, but dammit, I’ll do what it takes. I just don’t know how good I look in heels…

There’s a bit of purely aesthetic work left to be done, but it does it does it’s job. I don’t have pictured the other side of the house, but it pretty much looks the same on that side too. I still have to do the back part of our property, but that’ll have to be done later. I’ve got a bathroom finish.

A few mornings ago, while I was staying overnight at my parents house, Liam woke me up by giving me a sloppy messy kiss on the lips. Putting Liam to bed at my parents is always tricky and more often than not, he ends up in bed with me, usually caddy-corner with both feet tucked tightly between my ribs. In any case, there was something special about this good morning kiss, something different. It occurred to me later what it was. My son was learning to show affection without encouragement, all on his own, without being goaded by some annoying adult.

Oddly enough, however, that same weekend there was another change in my son. Being displaced at my parents for a weekend is both enjoyable and stressful. Enjoyable because I get pampered and fed but stressful because Liam and I have to live out of duffle bags. Food has to be meticulously chosen and packed. A little of this in case he doesn’t like that, a little of that in case he isn’t in the mood for this…you get the picture. On this particular weekend I had to pack stuff twice. By Sunday I was in one of my “when will my life stop sucking so much” moods so I decided to lighten my spirits by taking my little one to the pond in his Rider wagon to feed the ducks. He loves his Rider wagon, calls it his “vroom vroom”. His grandpa decided to come with so off the three of us go to the pond. On the way Liam is pointing at the cars driving by, at the trees and the mailboxes, making his little ewok sounds, smiling, happy.

Unfortunately, during the trip back, Liam decided he didn’t want to ride in his wagon but wanted to walk. So we walked. Understandable. I mean, he’s just acquired the motor skills to be able to walk and run after spending the first year of his life sitting in contraptions with wheels so who can blame him for wanting to walk through a park. On the way, while getting a little over excited about something he saw, he accidently threw his sippy cup on the concrete pathway, popping it open so all the water spilled out. He had hardly drunk a drop of water from the sippy cup since leaving the house that day so I didn’t think this was a big deal but apparently, once he saw that the water from the cup was indeed gone, he decided he was thirsty. So thirsty in fact, that he started to cry and stomp away from the path in the opposite direction we needed to go. My father and I stared at him as he went, a little perplexed by his reaction, since Liam has usually been a pretty calm child, only throwing mild tantrums that were easily dealt with by simple diversion (look Liam, look at the birdies!). However, in this instance it seemed clear that it was going to take more than a makeshift noise maker to convince my child to walk the two mile hike back towards his grandparents house so my dad tried the ever reliable trusty pick child up, console child, place child on shoulders and say “Look! Liam is taller than everyone”.

Liam’s reaction to this was to vigorously shake his head and scream louder so we tried the wagon again. All of a sudden, out of nowhere my child started to grow additional limbs, possibly two heads, I’m not sure, all of them kicking, swinging and punching the air. It was around this time that a runner passed us by. I looked up and smiled trying my best “Happens all the time, just a spirited child, got it totally under control, completely know what I’m doing here. Really” look.

Then a thought crossed my mind, all this tantrum throwing must be making him hot so I took off his jacket and stood him up to see if he would walk again. Instead, he fell back on his butt and continued to cry so my dad picked him up and tried to hold on to him the best he could as we walked back to the house.

I breathed a sigh of relief when we finally made it back into the neighborhood and Liam was again walking, a crooked path, but walking and not crying anymore thankfully. We passed by a couple working in their yard and had a neighborly chat, got the usual coos and awes when Liam flashed his smile at them. We got to the corner of that street and things started to go down hill again. I don’ t recall exactly what got him started but it had something to do with not being able to go in the direction he wanted to, so, again with the extra limbs and heads flipping back and forth. My dad suggested I run back to the nice couple in the yard and ask them to fill up his sippy cup with water. So I sprint back and ask, trying not to sound like a desperate panicked mother, however, any attempt at this point seemed fruitless since I noticed my shirt was on inside out (navy shirt, white tag in the back…nice) and I think, not entirely sure, but I think my eye was starting to twitch. The nice couple quickly filled the sippy cup to the top and even include ice to make it nice and cool. I walked back towards Liam and Dad feeling proud. I felt like a hero. I had water. Things would be fine now. He drank a couple of sips but then something else upset him. Dad and I just kind of looked at each other, took a deep breath, picked him up and carried him the rest of the way home. A walk that normally would take about forty minutes tops ended up taking us nearly two hours.

And that’s kind of how it’s been for the past few weeks. Liam has entered a new phase. Mike and I have struggled a little with the adjustment, lost our tempers a little more than we would wish, however we’re taking it with stride. We’re delighted that he’s enjoying ball games and has gained the necessary motor skills to throw and kick balls, however, we’re not so delighted that he throws everything else he gets his hands on like, food, toys, phones and shoes. It’s complicated to explain to a eighteen month old that you can throw this but not that. He obviously finds throwing to be some kind of stress reliever because he also does it whenever he’s mad and is told he can’t do something. When my cousin, Jill, came to visit this morning with her two sons I took the opportunity to ask her advice on the throwing situation but the best she could give me was “duck”. She recalled that her son had gone through a similar stage but that, luckily, it was short-lived, so we’ll cross our fingers to that.