Week 8 Weight Watchers weigh in

12.4 down, 10.8 to go.

As Ellie and I say when I'm pushing the stroller up a big hill - chugga... chugga...chugga... chugga! 

The shank


In the past, when I thought about someone having postpartum emotional issues I always imagined some scraggly haired, bag eyed woman moping around her house in her bathrobe with a pacifier in one hand and a revolver in the other. 

What I have learned after Hadley was born is that post partum emotional issues can come knocking on your door in all shapes and sizes.  Most of us are familiar with postpartum depression (PPD) - some all too familiar.  But over the past 12 weeks I have been dealing with another form, called PIWTSASIYUF.  Postpartum I Want To Stick A Shank In Your Ugly Face.

Sure, after Ellie and Lila were born I had a little moodiness as my hormones settled back to their resting states.  But the past three months I have been a woman on fire.  No fuse.  No warning.  No taking deep breaths while I count down from ten.  A race car in the red.  Certified TNT. 

Me:  Excuse me sir, your circular said that Special K was on sale this week.

Stock Boy:  Oh, sorry no - that ended yesterd-

Me:  *round house to the throat*

One minute I'm fine - playing with the kids, thinking about life and how blessed we are, feeling like the queen of the world.  But then it's almost as if I can feel the fine slipping away and the next thing I know I'm switching the Time Out spot to our guest bathroom with the hope that a door will protect the lives of the disobedient.

And it is really an unfortunate time in history to have PIWTSASIYUF.  30 years ago, women who had it would simply think hateful thoughts about friends and family and by the time the hate passed no harm was done. 

But now... now you can spread your crazy around for all the world to see with just the click of a button.  Which seems like a really awesome idea at the time but then, just about the time your in-laws open their email, you're checking one way flights to Rio and gluing on a fake moustache.

Or you're, oh I don't know... say, calling your sister a religious hypocrite and comparing her and her friends to the anti-Christ on her Facebook page.  For instance.

I didn't know what was wrong with me - so many questions ran through my head.  Is it the hormones?  The stress of having three little kids?  Am I just a bitch?  Where can I buy a switch blade?     

On Friday Nick and I had a belated Valentine's Day date night. 

Me:  I've got a lot of hate in my heart.

Nick:  Yeah I noticed.

Me:  One minute I'm fine, then the next I'm cyber bullying my Grandma.  I'm scared I'm going to do something I might regret.

Nick:  Like accidentally send an email to one of your old co-workers or something?

Me:  Like kill you in your sleep. 

Luckily I had a doctor appointment this week to double check that this Mirena is in nice and good and nothing is going to slip past the goalie, because I can't even begin to imagine what pregnancy hormones on top of postpartum rage would do.  So I decided it would be wise to talk to J.T. my trusty OB about my PIWTSASIYUF.

I sat in the waiting room rehearsing what I was going to say.  I didn't want to say anything that might get me locked up or make me seem uncool. 

Receptionist:  Mrs. Mayer?  Can you come to the counter please? 

Me:  Sure.

Receptionist:  They wanted me to bring this to your attention - you have a balance due of 703 dollars.

Me:  But when your billing person called my insurance company before I had this thing put in they told me it would only be a co-pay of 20 dollars.

Receptionist:  Hmm, well all I know is what they tell me.

Me:  Can  you please double check?  I mean, I never would have had this done if I knew it was going to be 703 dollars. You're out of your mind if you think I'm paying that.  I will take it out right here and give it back to you. 

Receptionist:  Ummm, well... the service has already been performed.  Let me call the billing manager.

As the nurse led me to the exam room I plotted my escape if they were going to make me pay the 703 dollars.  I hadn't worked out all of the details but I had a sketchy plan involving me running through the waiting room pantsless screaming "they'll never take me alive."  As I sat on the table, pantsless and ready to bolt, there was a knock at the door.   

Billing Manager:  Well yes, this is indeed what you owe.

Me:  Your office told me it was only going to be 20 dollars.

BM:  If I were you I'd call your insurance company. 

Me:  You need to leave now please.  I'm getting angry.  And you wouldn't like me when I'm angry. 

BM:  I brought you an extra copy of the bill in case you need it.

Me:  I swear to god I'm about three seconds away from shanking your face. 

The good news is that I didn't need to worry about remembering a single word of my "I think need some medication to control my anger" speech at all.  Someone just slid a prescription for some happy pills under the door with a stick.

The bad news is that it takes 2 - 4 weeks to kick in.  I would advise steering clear of any and all mini vans you see on the road in the metro area for at least that length of time.

Week 7 Weight Watchers weigh in

And that, brothers and sisters, is 11.8 pounds.

Cracka lacka.

Pinterest in real life - butterflies

I decided to post this one today in case anyone is looking for a cute Valentine's Day snack idea.  It's our week to bring the snack at Ellie's pre-school, so I scoured Pinterest and decided to mix this:

With this:

And get this:

12 times:

Ellie lent her talents to finger paint the clothes pins, and those killer antennae hot glued to the top are courtesy of yours truly. 

Because that's how most of her craft projects end up - me hovering over the kitchen counter at 10pm cursing myself for not just buying pretzels like a sane person. 

R.I.P. 'Lil Shawty


'Lil Shawty
10.8.11 - 2.6.12

Young life taken too soon
Like Janice, Marilyn and the nerd from Harry Potter
A fragile candle in the wind
Your flame extinguished by toilet water

I should have left you outside that stall
The communication far from dire
I just wanted to pass time on the pot
Texting my friend Andi about a pacifier

First a pep talk, then a deep breath
I stuck my hand in fast
My thoughts immediately haunted
By the ghosts of poo past

For 2 days I held silent vigil
Tears falling on your shroud of rice
First long grain, then white
Based on the tech's advice

So many memories for our short time
And you took them all
Pictures from Christmas, the video of Hadley's birth
Oh my god I hate you so much you fucking piece of worthless shit just please turn on for two seconds I feel sick to my stomach

I find peace imagining you
In the arms of Jesus
At $49.99 you were such a deal
Thanks to inhumane wages of the Chineeses

I have to move on
Lest I become institutional
But I'll never forget the laughs we shared
During my daily constitutional

*In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to the A New Blackberry Costs WHAT?  Why Don't You Just Bend Me Over This Counter It Would Be Less Painful fund.


I have a big confession to make.  I've decided to leave Nick for my new secret lover, Pinterest.  My old secret lover was Chicken McNuggets, but now that I'm on this god forsaken diet I had to break up with them. 

I'm going to introduce Pinterest to my kids later this week, and explain that it's just like the old daddy but this one gives mommy awesome ideas for outfits, food and home decor. 

Many of you are already on Pinterest and many are not.  And that's okay if you're not. 

Just kidding.  If you're not on Pinterest you're what we in the biz call a "loser".  You're a huge pain in marketers asses because you won't jump on the new idea bandwagon.  What's wrong with you?  Don't you want to know how to make the honey sesame chicken cooking in my crock pot right this moment or make multi-colored bath bubbles?

But just in case my compelling argument of calling you a loser hasn't encouraged you to get on Pinterest, don't worry.  Because once a week I'm going to bring Pinterest to you, my loser friend.  I've been pinning up a storm around here and making lots of awesome things. 

And some not-so-awesome things.

Every so often I'll share one of my successes or failures.  And, you can even email me and share your favorite pins and I just might feature you on my blog.  Originally I was going to do it every Wednesday and call it Winterest, but my life is so crazy right now that I can't even commit to taking a poop, much less a weekly segment.

You can also follow me and my boards, if you want. 

So here's your first one.  A beautiful photograph of three girls that I thought would be awesome to try with my girls and maybe blow up and hang in the living room.

And here's the Mayer version:

And right about here is when I remembered that taking a picture of all three girls is a pipe dream. 
If only I knew how to use Photoshop.