phatDonna

I got my new tattoo today. I’m so thrilled with it.

Here is the image that I brought with me to True Blue Tattoo:

In case you can’t tell, it’s a phoenix, which has been something I’ve been thinking about for a long time. I looked at a lot of images online and let me tell you, there are some scary ass images of phoenix tattoos on the internet. But I found four images I liked, and I saved them on my computer. Every day I’d go look at them and see which one spoke to me. This is the one I kept coming back to. I enlisted the help of a couple of close friends, who agreed that this was the best one.

I had planned to go to a shop in San Diego when I’m there in two weeks for BlogHer. I had picked out a place and even an artist, but after getting in touch with him, realized he wouldn’t be there when I would be. The rest of it was just a mess, trying to pick another artist who would get back to me and/or give me any feedback on colors and such. So today, I just decided there is no time like the present, and I drove downtown to a place I had heard did great work.

I met Cara and loved her right away. We discussed the image at length, and decided that colors would be wrong for this tattoo. After some dickering with size, we got started. It’s larger than I had originally thought of, but I love it. It hurt, for sure, but in a more annoying way than an excruciating way. To me it feels more like a cat scratch that just keeps going on. It’s not too bad. The only part that really hurt was the small part that wraps around to the front of leg – there is no cushion on your shin.

I’m really happy with it. I love that it’s big and dramatic. I don’t want something I can’t see. The point of getting it is so that I can see it every day, to be reminded of what it means and what I did to earn it.

OK y’all, I’m sorry. I’m going to vent for a minute here. Need I give you the mommy preface again? OK, fine, here it is. I love Bridget more than life itself. I’d lay down my life for her. We all know that, right? BUT….

Lately she’s been such a shit head and I just don’t know why. She’s whiny. She’s got a terrible teenager attitude. She’s not sleeping very well (and as a result has been coming into my bed interrupting my sleep) and her eating is so weird. She does not listen to one cotton-pickin’ word I say.

I feel like all I do is yell at her, punish her, or threaten to punish her. We don’t have fun together and she spends a lot of time crying because of the punishing and/or yelling.

I know that by not disciplining her for bad behavior, I’d be failing her. I’m just so damn tired of being the bad guy. The EX keeps telling me how wonderfully behaved she is at his house. Either he’s lying about that to make me feel like shit, or he has a different idea of wonderfully behaved than I do, or she just hates me.

When The EX and I split, I vowed that she would not turn out to be one of those asshole kids of divorced parents, the ones whose parents feel so guilty about getting divorced that they don’t discipline at all. Sometimes I wonder if I just expect too much from her, if I’m so worried about letting her get away with too much that I don’t let her get away with anything.

Deep down I’m just worried about what all this behavior means.

Is she just destined to be an asshole her whole life?

Does she have a behavioral problem, like ADHD?

Am I just inherently a bad mom who can’t control her kid?

There are so many possible reasons for the way she acts, including that this is just normal four year old behavior that she will outgrow. I just want to go back to enjoying being around my daughter.

This afternoon, I managed to lock myself out of the house when I took Bridget to the pool. It’s a long story how this  happened, but it wasn’t quite as stupid as it sounds. My house keys were sitting safely in my car, in the garage, which I could not get to.

When I realized what happened, I went through the list of people who have keys to my house. My property management company, and The EX. (I know I’m overly cautious but to me it just makes sense that since I live alone, he should have a key to the house where his child lives in case something ever happens to me.) I tried the property manager, but she didn’t answer, and The EX is out of town. So I Googled a locksmith and had one at the house in 10 minutes.

I had to explain the whole situation so he knew I wasn’t just some crazy lady in a swimsuit trailing a preschooler trying to break into someone’s house. I made some joke about how I had my car keys with me, but my house keys were in my car in the garage. He looked blankly at me and asked why I didn’t just get the keys out of my car in the garage. Gee thanks, stupid. If I could get into my fucking garage, I wouldn’t have called your happy ass out here, now would I?

$144 later, I remembered that my friends who live literally around the corner from me have a key to my house.

I recently found myself in Chicago for a weekend. I love Chicago so much and have been there several times, but every time I’ve gone, I’ve stayed a different hotel.

This trip, I booked my travel using Travelocity, and when I was browsing air and hotel packages, I came across a great deal at The James Chicago. The location was perfect, the price was great and the photos looked lovely so I bought it.

I can’t say enough great things about The James. The location is just wonderful if you are looking to be in the Loop and close to Michigan Avenue, as well as all those fun touristy things Chicago has to offer like Millennium Park . I was thrilled to find that it was across the street from a Trader Joe’s, which I adore and have no access to here in Texas.

The hotel staff was so attentive and friendly. The bell staff greeted me by name as I got out of the taxi and carried my bag in. My room wasn’t ready so they swiftly got it stored for me and took my phone number to call me when my room was ready. I went and grabbed lunch, then headed back to do some work in the lobby while I waited.

I also love that The James supports local Chicago artists, and displays some really cool installation pieces in the lobby. Just killing time in the lobby gave me a good opportunity to check them out.

My room was ready pretty quickly and it was beautiful. It was decorated beautifully and minimally, and had a great seating area. So many hotels have very little seating so you end up sitting on your bed anytime you have company in your room. Not the case at The James!  There was even a great bar set up with bottles of liquor, a cocktail shaker and glassware. I’ve never seen more than the obligatory tiny bottles of liquor in the mini bar, so this was a nice surprise.

The bed was wonderful – I had two fantastic nights of sleep while I was there. I also love hotels that have alarm clocks that dock your iPod or iPhone. It’s so nice to be able to charge your device and play music throughout your room without having to rely on radio stations.

The bathroom was lovely – a wee bit cramped for space, but that’s typical for hotels in the heart of any city. I’d rather have the extra space where it counts than in the bathroom. Everything in the bathroom was pristine and felt new. And get this – the bath products provided? KIEHL’S! No kidding!

I feel like I’m gushing over this hotel. But I loved it so much. I will definitely stay there again next time I go to Chicago. If I had to name one negative thing, I’d say the Wi-Fi, although free, was kind of slow. And if that’s the worst thing you can say about a hotel, that hotel is damn near perfect. I think that I have found MY hotel in Chicago. I’m not sure I could stay anywhere else.

{photo from The James hotel website}

I know you all think I am a horrible fascist mom who never takes her kid to the pool that is mere steps from my front door. Some of you even lament your lack of a pool to take your spawn for relief from the heat. But I HATE taking Bridget to the pool. HATE. IT. For many reasons.

1. The amount of preparation that is involved in getting me and her ready for the pool is staggering. There is hair removal to be done (mine), sunscreen to be applied (both of us), pool toys and snacks and drinks to be gathered, and then squeezing into swim suits. This takes a good 30 to 45 minutes.

2. I have the world’s most persnickety vagina. It does not like a swimming pool that has been overly chlorinated. One day at the pool with Bridget can be a very bad thing indeed for me for days, or even weeks.

3. Being in the pool with a four year old who cannot swim is NOT FUN for the adult. It’s not relaxing or enjoyable to be on constant vigil and constantly reminding her of the rules for the pool. There is no lounging in a chair reading a book or floating around on an inflatable raft with a drink in my hand. It’s splash fights, playing Barbies in the pool, trying to cajole her into learning to swim without her floatie.

4. When it’s this hot, the pool water can often feel as warm as bath water. Disgusting.

5. For some reason, the pool does not wear Bridget out like you would expect. I have spent 2 hours in the pool with this child, hoping she’s be falling asleep in her dinner by the time we got home, only to end up with a Tasmanian devil bred with a tornado when we got home.

6. It kills the whole day. If we go in the morning, which we are about to do, we spend time in the water, then I fight to get her out which she bitches, moans and cries about. I drag her home, try to get us both dried, dressed and ready for any other errand or thing we have to do that day. An hour or so in the pool can easily eat up 3 hours of the day. And I’m the one who ends up wiped out and in need of a nap.

So yes, in theory the pool is a fun thing. In practice, for me at least, it’s a misery. I do it, because she loves it. But I won’t like it.

I think it would shock some of you to know that I find myself to be terribly anti-social. I don’t really like people all that much. Oh, I can make small talk with the best of them. I don’t mind meeting new people in fun social situations, or even work situations. And I love MY people.

But given the choice of dealing with a person or a computer, I will always choose the computer. I hate to even ask for help in a store. I’m a reasonably smart person – I don’t mind looking until I find something. Only as a last result will I ask for help from a person.

I do my banking all online. If I have to visit a branch, I will use the ATM if I can, and if not, I’ll use the drive through. Although if I’m honest here, I think the bank is a special scenario because I have an irrational fear of being inside a bank that’s being robbed. I watch too many movies, I know.

I refuse to call an airline to book to a trip. I research it all and book it all online. I used to even hate having to call to check my flight status, because that automated whore could never seem to understand my request and would always want to connect me to a person. Thanks to the advent of the iPhone, I don’t even have to deal with that bitch anymore.

If I have to make a call to get something settled, I dread it, and put it off as long as I can. And I’m always shocked and amazed when an interaction over the phone with a customer service person isn’t horrific.

When I go to the movies, I will avoid the ticket window, even if there is no line, and buy my ticket from the machine inside.

If I had my wish, I could go to the doctor via email or IM because it’s always so awkward to give those personal answers looking into someone’s face. But I’d have no trouble telling you about my last bowel movement or menstrual period via IM. I even promise to be honest about my weight. And I’m sure they aren’t far from an iPhone app that will take my blood pressure.

Is everyone of our generation like this? I know our parents’ generation tends to prefer talking to people, to getting an actual human. I think they have a distrust of computers more than we do. I personally have a bigger distrust of humans.

What about you? Do you prefer human interaction or are you a weirdo like me?

Oh y’all. My poor Robbie dog. After months of being fine, I noticed tonight that he was shaky and limping. I had to give him a tramadol for the first time in months.

My poor dog has terrible hips, as do many of his breed. He doesn’t complain about it ever, but I can tell when he’s in pain because he gets whiny and shaky. I have ways to manage his pain, but I know that the day will come when I can’t manage his pain anymore and I’ll have to make a very hard choice.

So every time he has a pain episode and I have to medicate him, I get panicked that THIS is the time when I’ll have to make that choice. I’ve done it before with two pets. I know I can do it when I have to. But I know I’ll never find another dog as great as Robbie. I can’t even think about losing him.