Twat? What? There goes the search engines…

So Twitter. This awesomely amazing fantastic technology so awesome and amazing and fantastic that everyone and their my mother has an account. I love Twitter. I’m an avid user, but at the same time there are a lot of things about Twitter that bother me. And there’s also a lot about Twitter that I admittedly DON’T know. I’m all about the basics. For everything. So by no means am I speaking as an expert on the functions of all things Twitter.

(Example: It took me almost three months of having my iPhone before downloading a single app. It takes pictures, it plays music, and OH LOOK AT THAT IT’S A PHONE, so who knew I needed more than that? Ah-hem.)

My twitter background goes something like this:
In February 2007 I was working remote due to an ice-storm that had hit the area. I was sitting in our home office, which is now Lyla’s nursery, cruising through my Blogroll when I noticed a little badge in the sidebar of one of my favorite bloggers.

It said this.

I was intrigued! I kept stalking her site looking for an announcement which later came (and I’m not going to take another 10 minutes to page through Maggie’s tweets using that silly ‘more’ button again TWITTER! FIND A BETTER ARCHIVE SYSTEM! *shakes fist*) when the adorable Hank did in fact arrive. I new that those smart people at the interwebz were on to something. I joined Twitter a couple of days later.

I’ll admit my tweets were sparse at first, but I did start rolling a lot faster than the influx of people (OPRAH I’M LOOKING AT YOU) that just figured this out about two months ago when it hit the mass media. And now, if you haven’t heard of Twitter, you must be living under some kind of giant rock. A rock at the north pole. Because, seriously.

Wait, I had a point when I started this entry. How about that point! Enough with the backstory.

Things about Twitter, Part 1

… I love that when I have a question about what I can substitute for BBQ Sauce when making meatloaf, I get immediate answers.

… I hate that every vegan/vegetarian that was following me immediately unfollowed because I said, ‘meatloaf’.

… I love that I get new followers based on what I tweet about. This must have something to do with a search function, but like I said, I’m NO EXPERT on how this shit works.

… I hate that I lose followers based on what I tweet about. And that I never know exactly WHAT I said that offended them. And that I’ll never have the chance to apologize. And that they’ll NEVER have to explain why all of a sudden we’re no longer friends. (This one cuts deep)

… I love that I think all of you that I follow and that follow me back are my friends.

… I hate that I’m probably REALLY WRONG about that above statement.

… I love that I somehow attract conservatives and people way into their faith when those things are the exact opposite of me.

… I hate that my relationship with those people is so short lived because I say ‘Fuck’ a lot. But you know what? They probably should’ve done their research.

… I love that getting away from tweets that are a) thick with the God stuff, b) sad and depressing, c) consistently self-promoting blog entries and d) entire pages of @ replies to the same person (hi, take that shit ELSEWHERE) is a simple as unfollowing.

… I hate that I feel guilty for unfollowing people.

… I love that I’ve witnessed the birth of many babies, tweeted the birth of my OWN, and get to share milestones, mommy worries, and sweet moments on Twitter.

… I hate that it’s almost impossible for me to keep up with all the milestones, mommy worries, and sweet moments of all the people I follow and I miss stuff occasionally.

… I love that during my impromptu haircut yesterday I had a bunch of Tweeps sending me messages and calming me down and sending compliments after I had okay’d my stylist to cut all my hair off. Thankfully he didn’t TOTALLY take me seriously and I have a little bit of hair left. NOT MUCH THOUGH.

… I hate that I can’t personally hug everyone that told me my hair looked great, even if you were all collectively lying to me!

And my favorite Twitter feature,

… I love that when something goes horribly wrong or something hideously tragic happens, the Twitterverse bands together and dishes out overwhelming support. All the instant prayers that went to Heather & Mike and Shana & Rich last month really spoke loudly. There are good people still left in this world. And I think most of them are on Twitter.

So that’s my breakdown on Twitter (for now). Are you a Twitter fan? Do you use it? Do you GET it? Do you hate it? I wanna know why.

We’re going to Maine.

It’s been two years since we’ve gone. Last year I was too pregnant so we opted out and man, have we missed it. The Maine cravings have hit HARD in the last year. I’m so glad we were able to swing it this time. And as a bonus, the Lil Foot Family is joining us! I’m SO excited!

I’ve gained a lot of new readers since our last trip in 2007. So for those that will be new to this: I blog drunk when I’m in Maine.

Consider yourselves warned.

The bad news is that the new McMac doesn’t have a dial-up ability and since we’re off the grid with the exception of one land-line that comes into the cottage for emergencies, dial-up is our only option. I won’t be able to blog from the cottage. However, I will be writing and I will post the entries when we get home. I have to. Some of them wind up being real gems.

So in case you haven’t read all my archives (HA! Like anyone’s ever bothered to do that!), and if you have some time to kill, here are the links to some of my Maine work.

Blog Entries 2006:
Did you know this blog was actually launched from Maine?
Two Cans and A String
The Answer to The Question: What did you do in Maine?

2006 Photo Highlights:

Picture Perfect Moonrise
Hiking The Rocks
Snail Trail
Sunrise
Samoset Golf Course

Blog Entries 2007:
5/26/07
5/27/07
Structure
5/28/07
Nature
5/29/07
Fishing

2007 Photo Highlights:
Morning Sunbath (taken from the deck)
Us at Marshall Point Light
Hiking on Monhegan Island
The village of Monhegan

I can’t wait to get there. Even though Lyla won’t remember, this will be her first official trip to Maine. We will finally get to share how special a place it is with her. I’ve thought of this moment often. Every year that we’ve gone I’ve stared at the Pack’n'Play that SIL left in the closet and wondered when it would be my turn to use it. It’s my turn. This is her trip.

Did I mention that I CAN NOT WAIT?!

Here’s a big revelation that may or may not surprise you.

I suck at beauty products.

I know nothing about good skin care, make-up, etc. I wash my face with Cetaphil IF I remember. I don’t wear make-up unless it’s a really special occasion and it probably looks like crap when I put it on because I have no idea how to even apply make-up.

I get my nails and toes done. I get my eyebrows waxed. That’s the extent of my beautification process.

Recently I bought some Bare Minerals stuff. Their starter kit or whatever. I have no idea why I did this because whenever I put the stuff on, I looked like I fell asleep in a tanning bed. It wasn’t a good look for me. I must’ve been doing it wrong. But it also got all over the vanity and that in itself was a negative.

Ironically, when we went to New Jersey a couple of weeks ago, I must have left my make-up bag in the hotel bathroom or something because I can’t find the thing anywhere. On Mother’s Day I had to wear a liquid foundation that the extremely talented make-up artist that did my make-up for my wedding gave to me (probably out of pity) almost three years ago. I’ve since broken out horribly. Related? Methinks.

Also? I’ve been using Burt’s Bees shampoo, conditioner, and body wash for the last couple of weeks. I love Burt’s Bees products. I like that they’re natural, they smell great, and seem to work well. I have the Baby Bees stuff for Lyla. I don’t use it every time, but it does make her head smell oh-so-delicious when I do use it.

However, it just occurred to me that I think I’m allergic to the shampoo. My head is itchy all the time and I have little bumps on my scalp that, of course, cause me to panic when I find them because I think there’s a bug in my head. And OHMYGOD a bug tangled in my hair is right up there with my fear of tragic death by fire. I think EHH has inspected my head about nine times in the last week only to tell me, “It’s just a patch of dry skin.” Oh. Well okay then.

DUH.

So here’s where I reach out to you. I’m at a point where I’m a completely clean (impressionable) slate for beauty product suggestions. Tell me what kind of make-up you use (and any application tips). What’s your favorite shampoo and conditioner combination (I’m a fan of natural/green products)? Are there any lotions you can’t live without? Do you have a skin-care routine at night that involves more than washing your face with a baby wipe?

Um, not that I do that or anything.

And blue eyeshadow is out, right?

It could ALWAYS be worse.

I have my health.

I didn’t get in a car accident (which is something I think about every time I get in the car – morbid, I know).

I’m lucky enough to have a job in this horrible economy.

However, with all of those things making it not the worst day I could’ve had, the Universe was/is trying pretty freaking hard to hurt me.

There’s a few things that are complicating my life right now that are definitely by choice and in hopes that down the road, they will improve my life. At the moment it does provide a bit of a challenge and when every day is a challenge and then on top of the given challenge, more challenges are presented, it becomes slightly taxing on the nerves.

This morning the baby woke up early. Generally it doesn’t bother me that she wakes up early as long as she slept all night – which she did. I typically re-frame this in my head into a positive in that I’m given extra time with her in the morning and since I don’t see her all day, this is something I’m tremendously grateful for. Except that by the time we’re getting ready to leave, she’s horrendously crabby because it’s getting closer to breakfast/nap time and had she slept later, she’d most certainly be in a better mood.

Last night I made the choice (I KNOW it was a choice) to relax, have a nice dinner, and watch The Biggest Loser Finale (which, seriously, why is shit THREE HOURS long now? Remember when a special was an hour? And like it was a really big deal to have things be two hours? THREE HOURS? REALLY? Movies are shorter). Since it was over late and I was beyond exhausted, I skipped my evening ritual of making bottles, packing cereal and organizing food in the fridge so it’s easy to grab and toss in her lunch bag. I realize this was a choice. A bad one.

The biggest thing complicating our right now is the fact that our house is on the market. We know that if we’re lucky enough to sell our house, taking advantage of the low prices on something bigger with eventually enhance our lives. Right now, keeping a house clean and in show-condition with two full time jobs, horrible commutes, and an INFANT, is fucking hard.

Because I made a choice to be lazy last night, there were a few dishes in the sick, the dishwasher was full (but clean), and all the counters and stove needed to be wiped down. Two people having to do all of this AND pack up the baby (WHILE she’s screaming in the other room because she’s tired/hungry) IN heels and work clothes in a 6×8 space, is fucking hard.

I am LUCKY. I have a husband that helps A LOT. He made her bottles and packed her food while I cleaned the rest of the kitchen and put the stuff in the dishwasher away. He also ran downstairs and made sure those rooms were clean, put her bibs in the washing machine, and put her jacket on.

We actually got out the door on time.

As I’m about 300 feet from the driveway of her school (giving myself a headache from singing Itsy Bitsy Spider loudly so she wouldn’t fall asleep in the car) I remembered I never packed her oatmeal. And I was 100% sure that EHH forgot as well. I had to turn around and go back. So much for keeping her awake in the car. So much for being on time.

I pulled in the driveway and she was sound asleep so I made the decision to leave her in the car while I ran inside. I can’t see the driveway from the kitchen. This sent my anxiety into the red zone, but I live in a super safe neighborhood and I was only going to be 3-minutes. If that.

I grabbed her cereal from the cabinet. She usually gets a heaping tablespoon of rice cereal and multi-grain and then three tablespoons of oatmeal. Today I wasn’t counting. I just estimated and poured some into one of her take’n'toss bowls and as I was reaching for the lid…

CRASH.

A bottle fell out of the cabinet.

Onto the edge of the cereal bowl.

Sending it all over the counter.

All over the floor.

All.

Over.

My black sweater.

Do you know that there is a part of me that would’ve simply refilled the bowl, put the lid on, and left? I would’ve left the mess there. I would’ve left the cabinet open, the bottle on the floor, baby cereal all over the counter and the floor and simply brushed off my sweater when I got outside. I would’ve done this without a second thought. Because I was late. Because I was rushing. Because I had a sleeping baby in a car in the driveway that I couldn’t see. I TOTALLY would’ve left it there and dealt with it later.

But because my house is on the market. Because of an inconvenience to my life that I choose to have, I had to clean it up. Because I chose to sit on my ass last night and not prepare for the days like I usually do, I put myself in this situation.

I cleaned it up best I could. Dumped whatever cereal I could get my hands on (the oatmeal box was empty, I have no idea what she got or if she even got enough because the multi-grain box was on it’s way to empty as well) into the bowl. Slammed on the lid and because I had to blame someone, I cursed daycare’s policy of not being able to measure any food for the kids so they don’t allow you to leave extra cans of formula or boxes of cereal in the cubbies which, had I been allowed to do that, I WOULDN’T BE CLEANING CEREAL OFF THE FUCKING FLOOR, WHILE I WAS LATE, WITH A SLEEPING BABY IN THE CAR AND WEARING A BLACK SWEATER COVERED IN RICE GRAINS!

I slammed the front door as hard as I could and tried to remember to breathe on my way to the car.

And I heard her screaming.

Screaming her fucking head off.

(I’d like my Mother of the Year award in platinum, please).

So we started our ride over again. She screamed half of the way there and then promptly fell asleep (good luck with that nap, Teachers!) and I called EHH to tell him what happened. He tried to calm me down and promised that we’d both work to be better at organizing things before we go to bed so we’re not met with such a morning disaster. Understatement.

I firmly believe that kids pick up on anxiety. If I’m stressed, she’s stressed. If my heart rate is up, she’s REALLY clingy and whiney and miserable. I know that if I was going to get through drop-off smoothly, I needed to calm down.

She woke up when I took her out of her car seat. She put her head on my shoulder and whimpered when we walked through the door. I gave her kisses trying to get her to smile. Nothing.

We got to her room and only one teacher was there. Lyla was the fifth baby sending the room over ratio. I dawdled a bit hoping someone else would come in. I told her teacher about our morning. We both shared a laugh. As we were talking, one of the toddlers dumped her milk over on the table and started finger painting in it. The teacher was about to change a diaper on another kid so I grabbed the milk cup from the toddler’s hands and went for the paper-towel. I could see the teacher’s stress level climbing.

It’s a baby room. It’s never exactly peaceful. There’s always chaos, but with my tension level already souring, I just felt like I couldn’t leave. I know that the teacher’s probably HATE the fact that I hang out longer that I should, but today I didn’t care. I set Lyla at the table and started to get her breakfast together.

A second teacher was no where to be seen.

Finally I had to leave. I was already late. I asked the teacher if she wanted me to tell the office on my way out that she was one over ratio. She said that Ms C was across the all and was supposed to come over. She walked over to the door with me and across the hall was even more chaos, but Ms C said she was on her way. Lyla was sitting at the table in the seat closest to the door so she was kind of in the middle of all the drama. Something set her off. I don’t know if it was because I was leaving or because she spotted a parent that she didn’t recognize making their way into her room (her stranger anxiety has been very apparent lately), but as I made my way down the hall, I heard her crying. Hysterical crying. Getting louder and louder. I stopped, but I knew turning around and going back to her would’ve made it worse so I forced myself to keep walking.

It was the first time I ever had to leave her upset. I never walk out unless the last image of her in my head is one with her famous smile. I lowered my sunglasses on to my face while still inside and let the tears stream down my face. I hated leaving her. It physically hurt.

And driving to work I just started hammering myself with questions. Questions that don’t have answers. Questions that just made the tears fall harder.

Being a mom is hard. Having a career that you care about is hard. Having to do both is physically, emotionally, and mentally taxing. I feel like I’m always sacrificing. I’m never my best at either one. And doing-the-best-that-I-can isn’t really good enough most of the time.

But we get by.

Because it could ALWAYS be worse.

Because we have our health.

Because we didn’t get in a car accident.

Because I’m lucky enough to even have a job.

And these are the things of which I just need to keep reminding myself.