I'm utterly replaceable

And somehow that feels just fine by me.

Met with my bosses today. My job was posted online Friday, and apparently there are already like 10 applicants. Bosses informed me that although they "value my opinion", I won't be a part of the search committee, nor will I sit in on any interviews.

I'd be offended by this if it weren't followed by the conversation granting me every single one of my parting demands. Enough paid leave to get me through my 6 week PP visit, time enough to both finish my job and train my replacement.

I have told a few of my students that I'm leaving, and the reaction has been unanimous and touching: they don't want me to go, the program is going to "suck without me", and "they'd better find someone cool like you to replace you".

Hence, I'm glad to be leaving a job to be with my kids, but sad to be leaving my other, 20 year old kids. :)

Blog blahs

So, I've been blogging less than a couple weeks and have run out of things to say. So unlike me.

I can't even find the energy to totally bogart someone else's ideas, like 25 things about me. I'm too tired to even think up 10 things about me.

If I were forced to do even five, here's what that list would look like:

I'm tired
I needed to take *two* vicodin last night, just so I could sleep
I am scared shitless to try and work the final 10 weeks of this pregnancy
My maternity clothes are beginning not to fit...I'm getting too bulbous
Did I mention I'm tired?

Baby Number One

In wakeup conversation this morning, Girl Child reminds me that she will always be baby number one, and Boy Child will be baby number two.

Daddy comes in and says "yeah, we talked about this last night in the bathtub".

Girl Child says "yeah, and Daddy says that I can't be Baby Number One, because YOU are the biggest baby in the house".

Isn't that daddy funny?

In honor of the great Red Hallmark Holiday

Blood Clot Day. That's what we called it in high school. In all of our tortured artist, black wearing, Cure listening glory, we the embittered would call Valentine's Day for what it was (to us): the day where everyone dresses up like a big blood clot and buys Hallmark Cards.

Of course now that I'm grown up and in love, I get it. It's no longer blood clot day, it's "Prove how much you love me day". Cards, flowers, candy, jewelry. What can you get me that tops my friends' gifts and shows how much you love me?

Not that I don't totally buy into it. It's what makes me pissed off about the whole damn thing. I truly feel it's a materialistic day shoved in there after Christmas to make men nervous and piss women off. But I also get really pissed off if the man doesn't come through with even a card. And that makes me a schmuck.

This man who would walk through fire, jump in front of a truck, or hand me his right arm if I asked him to didn't get me a card. So what? He is my soul mate, my partner, the absolutely amazing father of my kids. He takes care of me, supports my dreams, and backs me 100%, even when he thinks I'm a whack. :)

Soooo, Happy Blod Clot Day, everyone. While I stew about my lack-of-card-ness, I will also dress in red, buy a heart shaped donut for my kiddo, and give that man of mine a big fat hug, just for loving me no matter what.

The latest time waster

Star Wars Kid

This poor bastard is downloaded all over the world now.

Ellie Little Legs

What else do you call a spider that is too tiny to be a Daddy Long Legs?

She won't let me kill the damn things if they are the tiny kind. Putting them outside is okay by her, but to squish the "poor little spiders" is too much for my little animal lover.

Bring out the gimp

I swear, I must be the gimpiest gimp that ever carried a child. Today I got a script for vidodin for sciatic pain. The physical therapist also ordered me a back brace. We're ready to put me on anti depressants in a few weeks, and my OB questioned my mental capacity to stay home with two children alone.

I see a chiropractor, a PT, an OB, and got a card today for a Psych Doc....just in case.

Should I really be someone's mother? All I really want to do is call mine and cry on her shoulder.

Then eat soup.

Korean Porn

Yep, this is what my husband found when cleaning off a computer for one of the docs at work. The guy has run out of memory...hard drive is over 90% full.

What has done it is several real player files...every thing from the Paris Hilton porn video to 36 episodes of some Korean mini-series...47 minutes each. Also, a good chunk of it is porn, with Asian actors and Korean subtitles.

Forget sneaking a peek at a raunchy website at work and deleting your cookies...just download it all and save it on your hard drive.

Then call the help desk and ask them to come and figure out what's wrong with your computer.

Why am I having another kid?

When mine is so damn amazing?

Seriously. Everyone loves their kid. I gag at women who go on and on and on about their perfect offspring. But I must say I'm blessed to have such a cool kid.

I watch her sleep and see my little baby. Cheeks puffed, fingers stuffed between little bow lips, hair matted and curled around her forehead. Then she shifts in her dream, the fingers are removed, and a gangly leg sticks out from the covers, she rolls over, and I see my little kid. Not a baby, a kid. I guess that's why people have more than one.

This morning the Monkey hugged my belly and kissed the baby good morning. Sob.

Last night I heard "Butterfly Kisses" on the radio...usually I turn it immediately. Not now. Sob.

This past weekend I had to work Sat. morning. I come in the door and am greeted with "Mommy! I missed you sooooo much!", and was smothered with little kisses and strangled with an almost four-year-old's neck hugs. Sob.

I'm either the world's biggest sap or somebody's mother. I'm thinking it's a bit of both.

Second post

This is uber queer. I need to be more computer savvy.

Test, test...Veeg, where the heck are you? :P

I hate being a sheep. But everyone has one. So here I am. Check me.