And so the unemployed nightmares begin

I dreamt last night that I went to the office to pick up some of my things. Victor was with me and walked into the office, which he's never done before, and only did this time because I had sworn up and down that it would only be Lauren. Boy was I surprised. The office was boasting people of all genders and nationalities. I don't know who any of these people were, or where exactly my subconscious picked them up from, except for one, who was a palestinian boy from elementary school that had a disability. And he was the one sitting at by desk.

Then bosslady appears in my dream, just as I'm shuffling aimlessly about and stalling, and she says, "We don't have any work yet." I'm giving her a, 'you've got to be kidding me look,' since there are about 20 people that are typing away furiously on their computers and one that is banging away on my yes, my computer.

You know that feeling you get in your dreams when you're right about to cry? It's very similar to real life. So I get that feeling and all I want to do is get out of there before Bosslady sees me in tears. Apparently, I'm even prideful in my dreams.

Losing it

Yesterday I could've been on Oprah and talked about how wonderful motherhood is. I could've been awarded mother of the year. It was a wonderful day being with my sweet two-year-old and attempting to potty train. I didn't mind that I had to strip Aixah of her pants and pampers several times that day and place her on the potty even though I knew that she was psyching me out each time. I almost didn't care that she pooped and then reached to grab it and show it to me as if to confirm, yup, poop. It didn't matter because I was loving being a SAHM. Work? Who needs work? Not when you have such great, fulfilling companionship.

And then today comes. And I'm just ready to combust. I don't want to potty train, I don't want to color with her, and I don't want to try to force her to eat. If all she wants to eat is half a bagel for the whole day then so be it. If she wants to eat her crayons then so be it. I don't want to hear her call my name over and over again. The whining bothers me. I always answer the same way, "Yes, my love." I say it in Spanish, "Si mi amor," except that amor sounds like, amolllll. The longer I extend the l the more irritated I am.

Aixah's a real genius though. She has this great line that she executes in the precise moment of my near combustion. She says, "Mami, I ouv you," cocking her head to the side and smiling that big, toothy grin. She could seriously win an academy award for that delivery. Or if she sees my face really serious she's say, "Mami, niiiice," and caresses my arm, if that doesn't work she'll kiss me. Real genius that kid is.

I don't know what has happened to me since yesterday, cabin fever, maybe? Yesterday I was so in love with my child and today I'm ready to give her away. I'm sure I'd miss her after a few days and probably ask to have her back, but only after a few days.

So I do what any other desperate mother would do. I head to Grandma's. I'm walking at maximum velocity. I'm chasing away people loitering on the wheelchair ramp. I was so desperate to get her out of the house that I just dressed her in a spaghetti strap dress and capris and a light jacket even though it was cloudy and in the mid-50s. Oops. I was just waiting, just waiting for some nosy stranger to say, "Isn't she cold?" Fortunately no one dared to approach me, cuz I was just ready to bite some one's head off. I turn the corner into my mother's street and Aixah shouts, "Abu," raising both hands in the air as if she were praising Jah. I understand the joy. I feel like juimping up and down myself. I'm tempted to just knock on my mother's door and just leave my child as an offering. But I don't, of course. You can think these thoughts and blog about them but if you actually do it, then that's when you've really lost it.

Potty Training

Day 1:


First Aixah liked the potty. She liked to take it apart and then try to put it back together and then scream when she couldn't get it right. She also got a kick out of opening the top and slamming it shut a numerous amount of times...open, shut, open, shut. She tried stepping on it, coloring on it and throwing garbage in it.


OK, so now that we had established that Aixah was not afraid of the potty it was time to get serious. So I ask her, "pee pee?" And she nods and says, "pee, pee."

So I take off her pants, take off her pampers and sit her down. And this is when Aixah freaks out and clings to me as if I were about to throw her out a window. Uh Oh, not good. I don't pressure her. I put her pamper back on and she puts her pants on, the fastest ever.


She naps, I nap and then, sucess! She's not afraid of the potty. She hasn't peed in it either but at least now she sits on it butt naked. Either we are progressing or she just likes to be butt naked.



She likes to sit on it and color. Every time I glance over to her she gives me a nod of encouragement and says, "pee, pee."

Not bad for Day 1, right? At least she hasn't peed on the floor.

Random thoughts for the night

First off, I have this thought of giving my daughter a middle name. I came across an old notebook way back when I was pregnant (so far back that I didn't even know the sex yet) and I had middle names, lot's. One of them being Sophia. Aixah Sophia. How does that sound? Doesn't it sound pretty? I bet the courts charge you a pretty penny to change a name.

Another thought (an expensive thought at that), I want to buy myself a digital SLR (Single Lens Reflex) camera. Something cool like the Canon Rebel. Here's the thing. A friend of mine asked me to take photos of a group of kids graduating High School. She thinks that since I minored in photography in College I'm some sort of professional (and I don't want to disappoint her ;) I don't want to take photos with my point and shoot. That is so limiting. I would be getting the camera for a good cause. Anyway, the graduation party isn't until June so I figure that the pics may not be 'till May (once the weather is warmer; since we would be doing them at Brighton Beach) and I have plenty of time to save for a camera. We'll see what happens then (here's hoping that I still have a job/income/paycheck/mula by then).

Anyway, that's all there is to tell. I'm having whiskey and coke and just enjoy my company...WOOT!

Luis Fonsi and other matters

Last night I had a dream that Luis Fonsi declared his love for me in concert.  It was all very storybook romance.  But that's totally me, you know!  The dream continued in some mansion that was a museum with the amount of security as the Empire State Building.  I don't know what the point of that dream was, only that the main theme was that I had left my phone there and had to rush through all the rooms looking for it.  Is it possible that I'm still obsessing over that stupid phone?  And why should I even care, Luis Fonsi had just kissed me in the previous segment of my dream, HELLO! 

The funny part was that I had not only left my phone in this mansion/museum/empire state building but I had also left my MK's bag, my baby stroller and my CHILD!!!  Um, why was I more concerned over a blackberry than my daughter!  I have some twisted mind.  Maybe I was just very confused over being in love with a very hot looking, puerto rican singer that is married to Victor's second or third cousin, lol.

This morning I woke up exhausted.  I have been working tons (by tons I mean a lot more than I normally work).  I told myself I wouldn't work any extra hours but then the jefa comes over and asks me if I could just send a couple of files out after I get home and I am such a sucker, I say 'yes,' 'of course I can,' 'I'd be more than honored to.'  So I work an 8 hour shift, get home and cook a horrible meal (that really bummed me out, I was so hungry) and while I'm eating I'm also on the computer trying to communicate with one of our translators but her e-mails are all coming back to me cryptic, meaning like this: $^%#%#^% ^W&%#

Everything is symbols, I can't tell what she is trying to tell me.  We eventually figure it out and all is well but by this point I just want to sleep for two days straight.  

I'm back in the office this morning and not busy at all, since I did most of the work late last night, but then the jefa catches me looking at swimsuits, eek!  That's no good.  Anyway, these swimsuits are so pretty.  They got me all excited about the summer.  I think I'll get myself a turquoise tankini and a black ruffled skirt.  "She wore an itsy, bitsey, tinny, weeny, yellow polka dot bikini..." I guess I better start eating my yoplait :).

Stay away from Facebook quizzes

So I took a quiz on FB, "Are you clinically insane," and this was the result:

Your Result: Bipolar
Ever wondered why you're so moody? You experience days or weeks of paralyzing, cheeto-binging depression, then a week of frenzied, hyperactive, ridiculously irresponsible behavior characterized by wild thoughts, sleepless nights, maxing out credit cards, having unprotected sex with dozens of strangers... or shaving your head and attacking the paparazzi with an umbrella. Some might call that chemically imbalanced... others call it "passionate" or blame it on the "artistic temperament". Whatever you call it, you could do with some balance... and Abilify.

hahahaha....well ain't that great! Now I may be bipolar...geez, something else to keep me up at night.

Memo to self, no more taking FB quizzes after midnight.

How is some one even diagnosed as Bipolar? How do they know that they don't just suffer from insomnia and a very BIG imagination. Or that stupid people should be attacked by an umbrella?

I'm too happy to be bipolar. And I think most of us can do with more balance in their life.

Spoiled by hubby

Today was proving to be an icky, monotonous, Saturday. I was working from home and complaining about it. Aixah was whining and Victor and I were bickering. The mood automatically changed when Victor said that I should get my hair done. It's not something that I get done often and my hair is not something that I concern myself with because it is so manageable. But still, getting my hair styled is a definitely a boost for my self-esteem.

So I got my hair blow dried and the stylist even threw in a scalp massage which was amazing. Amazing in a uncomfortable way because it felt kind of intimate to me, anyway, I'm weird.

Then Victor meets me at Annie Says. He knows more about fashion than I do, honestly. Next time I decide to go to a sample sale I'll take him with me ;). He found a cute gray (or is it grey?) dress that suited my figure (or un-figure, for that matter).
Well then he encouraged me to find shoes. What?! My husband was encouraging me to shop!!! This doesn't happen often. SHOPPING SPREE bells go off in my head. My adrenaline is to the max.

I got these Bandolino pumps and a pair of purple Bandolino loafers, which look really cute with jeans.

And then...get this...he buys me a Michael Kors handbag. NO WAY! I have to throw the receipt away before he convinces me to return it. But I have it, in my possession. So this makes up for that sucky Thursday evening and that's exactly what he was trying to do, awe. He felt bad about the whole Thursday situation and my girlfriends brushing me off so he decided to primp me up and give me a makeover, so to speak.

I have a good husband :D