Thursday, May 22, 2014

Officially Terrible

I'm seriously considering posting the following letter on the door of my surrounding neighbors.

"Hey Neighbor!
I'm Meg. My family and I just moved into Apartment _____. You may not have seen us yet, but chances are, you've heard us, which is precisely why I've sent you this note. I would just like to make it very clear that I am not routinely beating my child. While she screams like she's being pummeled to the edge of death, I can assure you that this is merely her new and super fun way of reacting to minor offenses which often include:

-Crust on her sandwich
-Cheese peeking out the edge of her quesadilla
-Milk in a sippy cup instead of a bottle
-Being told it's time for bed
-Being told it's time for a nap
-PBS playing the wrong episode of Dinosaur Train
-Bath time ending too soon
-Bath time starting too soon
-Diaper changes
-Wearing pants
-Wearing shoes
-Being offered strawberries
-Being offered cookies
-Someone trying to pick up her toys in the living room
-Being awake
-Being asleep
-Being at Target
-Being at any retail establishment where people will look at a screaming child and harshly judge its mother
-Being at any retail establishment that a child's mother must routinely visit in order to feed her family
-Being at any retail establishment that a child's mother thought would be a fun place to visit
-Wanting a balloon
-Losing a balloon
-Being asked if she needs to use the potty
-Being told the potty is not a toy
-Just living life in general

I'm just as baffled as you are, neighbor. Up to this point my kid has been a mild one, but it seems she's decided to let her toddler flag fly. It could be our recent move. It could be the cold she's been fighting for the past two weeks. Or she could just be two. Regardless, please do not call the authorities the next time you hear what sounds like major distress, and please let me know if I can buy you a pair of earplugs.


Wednesday, May 14, 2014

Not Dead

Big news! Stephen joined a cult was accepted to Hogwarts became a Founding Fathers impersonator graduated! That hat though, I mean, right? Why?!

There's not much to say except I'm really proud of him, and really glad it's over.

Also, we're Utahns now (again)! We put Phil, Mary, Brad and Carey (Stephen's parents and my parents, respectively) to work hauling boxes over graduation weekend. It's a good thing the parents showed up because I had reached the point in packing where "Let's just set this place on fire" felt like a totally rational thought. Thanks for saving me from life in prison on arson charges, family.  

The lot of us caravanned to Salt Lake and unloaded the U-Haul into our new Cottonwood Heights apartment. Our place is nice and clean, but short on storage. I hope to someday build a house made entirely of storage space. I'm thinking 72 closets, each with 14 shelves. Maybe then I won't have to pile mixing bowls, board games and winter coats into the same space. We all have dreams. But for now the reality is making three separate trips to Target for organization bins and shoe racks. $300 on my Red Card later and we're pretty much moved in. 

We've killed six spiders so far. Well, Stephen killed five massive, possibly deadly spiders, and I killed a baby spider that may actually have been an ant. I guess easy entry for bugs is the downside to ground floor living. The upside is not having to carry a gallon of milk, six grocery bags and a two-year-old up a flight of concrete stairs. The other upside is no downstairs neighbors, and no guilt when I drop something or vacuum at midnight or throw a dance party for the first time in my life. 

Now, the biggest news of all: It's been two weeks since my last Diet Coke. I feel tired and not as new woman-y as I had hoped. I guess I thought that once I let go of my beloved cans, I would be awash in a healthy glow and full of natural energy. Instead I'm fighting a losing battle against the 2:30 sleepies and wondering when days got so long. Sure, some of the fatigue may be due to a week spent moving and a toddler who no longer takes naps (pray for me), but I don't remember being this wiped in a long time. Also, I just plain miss the taste of Diet Coke. So really I don't know how much longer I'll last before jumping off this wagon. Now if you'll excuse me, I need a nap. 

Thursday, May 1, 2014

Dark Days

I'm on my second day without Diet Coke and I feel...

I mean, I'm better than I was yesterday. Yesterday was apocalyptic. Yesterday was also mine and Stephen's fourth wedding anniversary. I'm just the kind of exemplary wife who decides to make a drastic life change on the day that should be devoted to celebrations of love. But honestly, Stephen is in the middle of finals so the night promised little romance to begin with.

Anyway. Why would I give up something I love? And I do love Diet Coke. I love Diet Coke. I do not, however, love what it is most likely doing to me, my heart, and my bones. This is admittedly my own fault. Moderation is a concept lost on me. And at the risk of sounding dramatic, I think I have an addictive personality. I can't have just one delicious, frothy, cold beverage a day. I have five. And while one can a day may not have dire health consequences, five very well might. Also, I could buy much nicer shoes with the money I'm spending on twelve-packs. Also also, I had taken to calling the drink "Mommy's Go-Go Juice" which places me in the same realm of class as Honey Boo Boo. Unacceptable.

So here we are.

Day 2.

Yesterday I went to bed at 9:30 to sleep off the migraine. I had three carbonated waters to fill the void, and six tylenol to help take the edge off the anvil bouncing around in my skull. If I moved my head too suddenly, I yelped in pain. I resisted the urge to vomit all night. But I think that was the worst of it.

Today my head isn't so much screaming as murmuring. I had eggs for breakfast in the hopes that protein would provide the energy caffeine once did. I'm moving a little slower than normal, but I haven't passed out yet. Honestly, I don't really miss it so far. But it is only day two, and I haven't faced a plate of tacos, or an early morning with a baby, or any other situation that in my previous 15 years would make Diet Coke an absolute necessity. 

We'll see how I fare in the coming weeks. Wish me luck...