Foggy Rather Groggy

I've been up since 6:13am. For no damn good reason. Husband's away for the week. It wasn't his snoring or coming to bed at odd hours of the morning that effed up my sleep. Daughters away at her aunt's for a sleepover. It wasn't her waking with the birds, in need of a cuddle that caused my problem. Animals were still asleep at 6:13am. I can't blame it on them. I have no one to blame but myself.

Hangs head in sorrow.

I have become, and I shudder to even say it...a morning person. An early riser. Normally, no biggie. But after a night out, it would have been delightful to sleep past 8 o'clock this morning. Instead, I'm left awake but foggy-brained. Let me tell you, it sucks. Not as bad as hungover and awake, but still not preferable.

I had hoped to write a bit before I retrieve Alice from her sleepover. I rarely get to write in the morning, coffee in hand, cool morning breeze blowing in the windows. My foggy rather groggy mind is not in love with the idea. So, while I wait for the caffeine to kick in, I present to you the topics my brain formulated and, for very good reason, rejected on this fine morning.

I think there was merit in stoning. Aside from the physical trauma of actually being stoned. I think there should be Internet stoning. That way I get the satisfaction of publicly punishing someone for their wrong doings, and no one is physically hurt. A stoning site. I suppose I could do the same via my blog, but then I may just come off as a bitter, vindictive lady.

Words acceptable in the Words With Friends dictionary severely limits my chances at winning. I understand the logic that my opponent is playing with the same rules as I am. Somehow it doesn't matter. I want to be able to play words like Nazi and zygote. I would win on a triple score with the word zygote.

I think Alice said shit the other day. If in fact she did, it would have been the first curse word she's uttered and used correctly. She was tossing a beach ball around in the house and one toss hit the tv. I swear I heard shit come out of her mouth. But she was mumbling and chanting singing so I couldn't be sure. I asked her to repeat, she refused.

Purple is not a flavor.

Why do Legos not come with a warning, "Beware! From this purchase forward, small microscopic plastic pieces will scatter your house. Try your best to contain them." If there was a warning like that on the box, right below it would be a button. When you pushed it, you would hear sadistic laughter.

Kids produce a lot of artwork. I use the term art loosely.

My oven has a self cleaning feature, why not my toaster oven? Not wanting to turn the oven on and heat the kitchen, I cooked bacon wrapped scallops in the toaster oven Tuesday night. Damn, that produced a shit ton of grease on the ceiling of the appliance! How am I supposed to clean that?

I need to make a dentist appointment. I was a no-show for my last. They sent me a letter in the mail expressing their disappointment in me. From the tone of the letter, they seemed to be more hurt than when I told them I wasn't a regular flosser. I don't want to call and face the wrath of the receptionist, so I keep putting it of. I don't think I'm up for the challenge today either.

Alright. I hate to end my oh, so successful list of nothingness, but from the texts I'm receiving it seems my time here is up. My daughter has over stayed her welcome. I must go fetch her. Sigh. On the bright side, I've drank enough iced coffee and feel clearheadedish. Coffee, my wonder drug of choice.

Digging Myself Out Of The Trench

After adjusting the laces on my shoes, I stepped on, set the treadmill, and started to run. With my iPod in hand, I scrolled through the artists and found what I was looking for, an oldy but goody recently added to my new iPod, Damian Jr Gong Marley, and pressed play. I ran for a few moments, my thoughts racing from my to-do lists to my worries, and then the chorus kicked in. Just like that, I was transported back six years ago. To a time when things were different. I was different. And in that moment, running, all thoughts disappeared but one.

I'm back.

You often hear new moms talk about the dream of getting back into their pre-baby clothes, and don't get me wrong, I wanted the same. After six months I was there...mostly. But, without even being aware, what I needed most, was to get back to the pre-baby me. That has been a horrendously long journey. Alice just turned four and I can finally say I'm there...mostly.

In that moment, running, I felt it and it felt terrifically familiar. The it being the old me. She was there and finally shining through.

At my baby shower, four plus years ago, seasoned veterans offered advice like sleep when the baby sleeps and take all the help that's offered. Everyone made it out like all you needed to be concerned with is the window of time when your new child is a baby. It came off to ignorant me like life would return when the baby started to sleep through the night. People neglected to inform me that not only would life never be the same again, I would lose myself in the process.

Lose myself I did.

I wasn't even aware. That may have been the worst part. I was no longer me and I didn't even know it. It has taken several years and unique circumstances for me to finally shine the light on myself and examine what I have allowed myself to become. I had given in to the role of mom and become nothing but. I had allowed myself to become unimportant. I was a mother, nothing else. I can see how it happened. I became so engrossed in the infant stage, survival mode in the trenches so to speak, and every stage of motherhood thereafter brought new and equally urgent requirements. I never stopped for a moment to look out of the trench, look around at life and see it all going by.

Until I did.

When I finally woke up and realized the old Nelly was gone, it was a relief...sort of. It sucked, but at least I was aware. It's like being sick for years, being told countless times we can't find anything wrong, and finally having a diagnosis. At least I could begin to work to dig me out from underneath the mom mountain I had created.

It's taken awhile and many changes, but seeing myself in the mirror, running, listening to Jr Gong, I saw me. I saw Nelly, not just Mama. And when I had finished working out, I retrieved Alice from daycare. As we walked out of the gym, her hand in mine, talking about the butterfly she had made and the bug that had been on the step the day before, she took my hand and wiped her nose with it.

And all was good.

Do You Not Even Know Me At All???

Friday night I was fortunate enough to escape the jail cell I refer to as my house. I've served 4 years on an 18 year sentence. I hear there's a possibility for a work release program in the future. I'll keep you posted.

Anyway, Hatta and I were finally able to take advantage of parents night out at Alice's gymnastics school. For 30 bucks they will keep my kid alive for 3 and a half hours. Seemed worth it, so we signed her up, dropped her off 4 minutes early, and headed to the movies.

Snow White and the Huntsman has been on my must see list, with Charlize Theron as the wicked queen it was an easy sell to Hatta. I have to say, damn if I didn't find her evilness to be so damn hot. Though, I read glorified porn daily so my mind may just be in a constant state of arousal anyway.

A third of the way into the movie, Snow White rides off on a horse sans saddle. Hatta whispers to me, "Have you ever ridden bareback?"

To which I replied, "Do you not even know me at all?" followed by laughter I didn't attempt to stifle.

Let me fill you in on some background information. I got my first horse when I was about 6. I lived on a horse breeding farm the vast majority of my childhood. I traveled up and down the east, from Texas to Canada and practically all states between showing horses. To say horses were my life would have been an understatement. Hatta, having been my boyfriend since 1999, was privy to this horse knowledge. He still deals with the ramifications in our basement where I store my English saddle, show bridles, show halters, countless pairs of boots and garment bags of show clothes.

You can imagine my surprise at his question. Asking if I had ever ridden bareback was akin to asking me if I had green eyes and freckles. I suppose I should cut him some slack, he was watching Kristen Stewart galloping along on a horse. Maybe he was fantasizing and his brain wasn't quite working like it should.

Regardless, I was baffled at his ignorance. We've been together nearly 13 years. How is it possible he doesn't know such a simple thing about me? Does he just not care? Or should I chalk it up to him having a y chromosome? I believe so. The same reason he'd rather ask me the weather than look it up for himself, ask me if we have more toothpaste rather than look on the shelf, ask me if I've ever ridden bareback instead of think for himself. Yup, that's it, sounds about right.

To answer his question, since I was far too busy laughing and mocking him the other night, yes, I've ridden bareback. More times than I can recall. It's fun and impulsive.

Two Birds With One Stone

Sound the horns, beat the drums...I've finally killed two birds with one stone. Sort of. I didn't actually kill any birds. Though, in the spring, when the weathers nice and I'd like to sleep with the windows open, but I can't because the mother lovin birds in my neighborhood wake up at 4am, I'd like to kill birds then. I digress. Let me try again. I've finally accomplished two goals and I did them at the exact same time. I wanted to share the news with you sooner, but I didn't want to jinx it. I'm a bit superstitious. Ask me about the number 8 next time you see me. Second thought, don't. It might just prove I'm crazy and I'd surely lose readers.

I think I've had too much coffee today.

I joined the gym and Alice has been babysat by complete strangers, i.e., gym daycare. This is big, people. Huge. Both feats.

Prior to growing a human inside me, I exercised regulary. I ran. A lot. I had a 6-pack. I fit into a dress that looked like a Barbie doll could wear. The pink, floral dress still hangs in my closet taunting me. Then, I didn't get pregnant as quickly as I wanted and my cycle started to become irregular. My ob doctor, concerned I was becoming too under weight, blaming my trouble concieving on it, suggested I cut back on the amount I was running. So I did. Fast forward to now, nearly 5 years later, I have a beautiful, brilliant daughter and a 2-pack at best. I haven't exercised with any regularity and it shows. I can accept that my body may never look like it did before, I was in my 20's and now I'm not, I've birthed a child, things change. However, I have not admitted defeat regarding my growing ass. I finally redeemed the Groupon I bought for a gym down the street. I'm proud to say, I'm addicted again. I think my lazy ass, stagnant streak is over.

Now, about the daycare. Some friends I talk to think it's bizarre that Alice isn't in daycare or preschool or hasn't been babysat by anyone but family yet. I see their point, she is 4. But, up until now I've never needed outside of family help and I was never comfortable with the idea anyway. The idea of some stranger in my house, snooping through my desk, riffling through my pantry never exactly thrilled me. I know one day we will hire a college kid to watch Alice and it'll be fine, we just haven't needed to yet. This all means Alice is extremely used to me. And I'm very comfortable knowing she's safe. Cut to the first day at the gym. I walked her in the daycare room. It looked fun, the kids were playing Play-Doh. I'm sure my heart was beating just as fast as hers. This nervous, excited feeling for both of us. She clung to my leg as I talked to the teacher and pointed out the fun she was bound to have. I told her I would be back soon, and I separated her clingy arms from my leg and walked out of the door. That was it. She wasn't screaming. She didn't cry. She just stood there for awhile, flabbergasted I think. In shock that her mother actually left her with strangers. I'm sure she doubted my judgement call. I went about my exercise regime with only minimal concern for my child. Every now and then, I'd peek in the window at her, always happily playing dollhouse or barbies, but always alone.

This will be good for us, as individuals and as a mother-daughter duo. I'll get back to my pre-pregnancy self and, with any luck, into that dress, and she'll have a nice introduction in separation before preschool in the fall. A win win if I do say so.

Patting myself on the back for a job well done.