Stop bugging me, spiders

Yeah, so, mighty, mighty good man David has a few jobs around the house. Well, he does a lot of things, but there are two main jobs that are absolutely his thing: He takes out the trash, and he kills the spiders.

I was forced to kill a spider myself this week, because he was traveling for work. This is a big deal, because I am horribly afraid of spiders. Seriously, I don’t even want them looking at me.

The spider was in the bathtub. Of course, I didn’t want to get too close to it because then it will instantly increase in size and bite me (duh), so I threw a shoe at it from the bathroom door. It only took me two tries to hit it. With accuracy like that, I could probably get a starting spot in the San Francisco Giants pitching rotation.

I know some of you will be outraged that I killed a spider and possibly notify PETA. I do not like killing spiders. I don’t like killing anything except a bottle of red wine. In my defense, IT WAS A SPIDER, AND IT WAS IN MY HOUSE! Spiders and I have a deal. If you stay outside, we’re cool. If you come inside my house, you go squish now.

Oh, and I would like to throw under the bus mention that my sister Michelle was hanging out Wednesday night, and she also killed a spider that was in my tub. That’s two spiders in a week hanging out in my bathtub.

So, you guys, why are spiders hanging out in my bathtub?! You’d think that’s the last place they’d want to hang out seeing as how they are not known for their swimming abilities. Are they dirty? Do they want to take a bath? I’m afraid that one day I will walk into my bathroom and there will be a spider chilling in a bubble bath in the tub, maybe there will be some lit candles and a glass of wine. It will shriek when I come in and hold up a towel to cover its naughty bits: “Do you mind?!”

Stomp the yard

Yeah, so, I don’t do yard work.

“I think I’ll do some gardening.” – Something only Bizarro Sonia would say.

Oh, don’t get me wrong, I love a beautiful yard, but I’m a lazy piece of crap who doesn’t want to do the work to make it happen. We rent a house in San Francisco. It’s a great place. We love it. It doesn’t have a front yard, but it does have a nice big front patio and a great deck with a terrific view. See?

Way over on the left? That’s the San Francisco Bay.

I’m cool with doing things to make the front patio and deck nice. It’s got a kick-ass grill and a few chairs, and I’ve got a couple of bird feeders out there. The Spawn and I love to watch the birds. I’d love to get a bird bath and a couple of plants. We don’t spend a lot of time hanging out on the patio or deck, because we live in San Francisco and it’s kinda cold and foggy. We get about 10 warm sunny days a year. We do enjoy that view on a daily basis, and it’s quite lovely at night, too.

Sadly, we spend even less time in the backyard. It’s mainly tanbark and a few planter boxes that someone who is into gardening could do a lot with. When I do go back there, it’s usually to walk Homer around and let him do his business. Lately, I’ve been letting the Spawn walk around back there with us, which really makes me think we should do something with our backyard so he can play back there. For example, one of those big planter boxes might make a nice sandbox. Something for us to think about, I guess.

So anyway, like I said, I’m not a yard work person, so imagine my joy when I saw these beautiful flowers in our backyard.

Orange! My favorite! These fabulous orange flowers are creeping in from the neighbor’s yard and through our fence. It’s so great. We get to enjoy these beautiful flowers, and we didn’t have to do yard work to get them. Win!

Spoiler alert! Our nanny is way smarter than me

Yeah, so, we are very fortunate in that we have a really great child care setup. We are doing a nannyshare with another couple in our neighborhood. Our nanny is awesome, amazing and super knowledgeable. I don’t know how many times she has helped me.

You see, I don’t know jack about babies. I know The Boy pretty well, obviously, and I read books and blogs, and try to keep one step ahead of his development so I’m ready for the next thing. But I don’t have any experience, really. She has been so great at letting me know when he’s ready to move on to the next big thing. She has been an invaluable resource.

For example, last night I picked him up from nannyshare, and the Spawn was fighting me while I tried to put him in his car seat. If you have a toddler, you probably know what I’m talking about. He gets stiff as a board and refuses to sit down, while crying and flailing his arms around. It sucks. Ugh, and if you’re in a public parking lot it’s even worse. Sometimes there’s someone in a car waiting to take your spot, and you know they are pissed because you are taking too long, and everyone looks at you like you are doing something horrible to your kid. The WORST. Last night, it was taking me a really long time to get him in the seat. Finally, Yolanda offered to try. She stuck her hand under this butt and tilted up her hand. He slid back into the seat. “Vamonos. Vamonos,” she said (That’s “let’s go” in Spanish, FYI). He was still crying, but at least he was sitting so she could buckle the seat. Seriously. It was like magic.

In the past, when I dropped The Boy off, he might fuss a little about my departure, but he was easily distracted with Cheerios or a toy. But, a few weeks ago, The Boy started getting really upset when I dropped him off at the nannyshare. Separation anxiety: Oh goodie! He was clinging to me and crying. I basically had to run out the front door. It was so awful and sad. I would get all choked up in the car. It wasn’t the most awesome way to start my day.

The other father at nannyshare, John, witnessed this separation anxiety firsthand several mornings in a row. He offered me this piece of advice to cheer me up: “You know that scene in action movies where they walk away in slow motion with the explosions going on behind them, and they don’t turn back and look? It’s kinda like that.” Ha!

Finally, last week, Yolanda decided to try something new: “Let’s walk Mommy to the porch and say bye-bye.” And you know what? It worked. At first, there was just a little whining and a reluctant wave bye-bye. Now, there is no whining or crying when I drop him off. Yolanda and Calvin walk me to the porch. I kneel down and say, “I love you. Be sweet to Yolanda,” and I kiss him. He waves bye and blows me a kiss. I still get all choked up in the car, but now it’s because I don’t want to leave. I think I’m getting separation anxiety.

When did Mother’s Day turn into a weeklong thing?

Yeah, so, the cashier at Target wished me a happy belated Mother’s Day today. I didn’t have the Spawn with me. How’d she know?

The items in my cart weren’t a giveaway. It was frozen Weight Watchers meals, paper towels and face wash. Maybe I just look like a mom now? I wasn’t wearing Mom Jeans, I swear.

Maybe the cashier just assumes every woman “of a certain age” is a mother. If so, it’s probably not a good thing to assume. Other things you shouldn’t assume: that woman is pregnant even if she looks pregnant. Seriously, you guys. Don’t do that. You’ll be sorry someday.

Oh, and by the way, when did Mother’s Day turn into something that dominated the entire weekend and the following day? Target put out its Mother’s Day decorations/cards right after Christmas. I’m a Mom, and I say one day is fine. I gave you life. You’re welcome. Thanks for the card. I don’t need the weekend or the entire week. That’s what my birthday is for.

So anyway, I think it’s time for The Boy to get a haircut. What do you think?

The Boy is going for the crazy mad scientist look.

We’re putting it off. I know he’s going to cry, and I’m going to cry. Maybe I should hold off until it’s a massive blond ‘fro.

New subject … We have like six episodes of “Community” on the DVR. When we let things pile up like that it means we’ve clearly lost interest. It just wasn’t as funny this season. David told me to watch them without him while he is Philly for work. Should I even bother watching them? Are you guys watching “Community?” I need to make room on the DVR, because “So You Think You Can Dance” starts this week. Don’t you judge me! How dare you!

Oh, so, my almost 11-year-old niece Lorelei announced to me on Sunday that she doesn’t want to see “Star Wars.” I don’t know why she wanted to ruin my Mother’s Day. In response, I’m cutting her out of my will. I’m still deciding whether or not I want to talk to her anymore. Also, I’m a little surprised she hasn’t seen it already. I blame her parents.

I do think it’s funny that this is her way of rebelling: “I won’t watch ‘Star Wars!’ Take that, adults!” She’s just punishing herself by not watching one of the best movies of all time.

Extreme Makeover: The Sonia Show Edition

Yeah, so, if you are here then you probably noticed that the blog has a new look.

Ta-dah!

WordPress decided to change my old theme without a heads up. They changed it in a way that I hated, hence the new look. It’s not perfect. There is still some tweaking to be done here and there. Since I’m a cheap bastard who refused to pay for a cool theme, I have to use one of the free ones and customize it the best I can. I’m not a web developer, so you’ll have to forgive me. The header will probably change a few times, but I think this one is kinda funny and a perfectly fine placeholder.

So, yeah, mighty, mighty good man David is traveling this week for work, which means it’s just me and the Spawn. He’s still a little daddy’s boy, so I’m sure he will ask for David every day until he gets home.

While David is away here are things that will definitely happen:

• The big bottle of beer we split? I will end up drinking the entire thing myself. For example, I’m drinking a bottle of the Marin Brewing Company Barley Wine, and it is delicious.
• Since I don’t want to watch any of the shows David and I watch together (“Mad Men,” “The Simpsons,” “Bob’s Burgers, etc.) without David, I will plow through season two of “Homeland,” because – oh yeah – I have the fanciest cable package in the all the land now, and it includes Showtime.
• I will start checking my matches for free on Match.com. (I kid!)

So what did I do for Mother’s Day? Inquiring minds want to know, right?

David and The Boy gave me my gift earlier in the week. It was a Crazy Crab bobble head, which I fuckin’ love! On Saturday, I hopped on BART and got a pedicure with my mom and sister in Concord. We grabbed some lunch and did a little shopping. It was a belated birthday gift for my Mom, but it felt more like a Mother’s Day thing.

On Mother’s Day proper, I got to sleep in until 9 a.m. I know, right? It’s OK to be jealous. I watch the Giants beat the Braves, and then we walked down the little downtown in Glen Park and got a burrito at La Corneta. This is an important thing you should know about me: I fuckin’ love burritos. I think they are the world’s most perfect food.

The three of us have not gone out to eat in a restaurant for a little while. Calvin is not cool sitting in a restaurant these days. He wants to wander around and refuses to sit in the booster seat. However, today we discovered the trick to getting him to hang out: Tortilla chips!

Mmm, chips.

Sitting in that taqueria, eating burritos with my boys … I couldn’t have been happier. It was a really great day.

I still don’t have cancer, you guys

Yeah, so, I found out today that I don’t have cancer again.

Yesterday, I wasn’t so sure. In fact, for the past several days I believed that I might have cancer again.

Let me start at the beginning. In 2009, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. (You can read all about my adventures in breast cancer riiight here.) I had a few surgeries, including a mastectomy of my left breast and reconstructive surgery in 2010. Starting in 2010, I began taking tamoxifen, because I had an estrogen-positive cancer and tamoxifen blocks estrogen in your body. I took it for about 9 months, then I got knocked up, and after I evicted the Spawn from my uterus, I went back on the tamoxifen like a good little breast cancer survivor. I think it’s sucks that the drug I’m taking to decrease my risk of breast cancer slightly increases my chances of endometrial cancer. But my oncologist says it’s a risk worth taking, and he went to school for this stuff and is really smart, so I do what he says.

[Warning: This blog post will involve the words "period," "uterus" and other words that make me snicker when I play them in Words with Friends. To reward you, I will end this post with cute photos. Deal?]

Cut to last Friday, when it occurs to me that I have been on my period for two weeks. I emailed my doctor, and what I expected her to say is, “Oh, that happens sometimes. Don’t worry about it.” Instead she said, “I think you should make an appointment for Monday, and we should a biopsy of the endometrial lining in your uterus since you are on tamoxifen and it increase your cancer risk.”

Immediately, I went into panic mode. Even though she said that I’m sure the test will be normal, all I kept thinking about was how I probably have cancer again. When I found the lump in my left breast in 2009, I was told that it was probably nothing, but it wasn’t nothing. It was cancer. It’s happening again, I thought.

I called to make my appointment, and Kaiser made me talk to an advice nurse first. She tried to calm my anxiety. “Welcome to your 40s,” she said. “I get this same call every day from women over 40.” She was able to calm my anxiety for about 15 minutes. Then I started freaking out again.

All weekend long, I had a horrible feeling in my gut. I had cancer again. I would rock with Calvin in his chair at night, but him to bed, and then walk out of his room and cry. Calvin needs me. I need to not have cancer again. It’s not fair. I put in my cancer time.

On Monday, I went to my appointment and the doctor assured me once again that I was probably fine. She just wanted to be cautious. I nodded and said, “I’ve been told that before.” She said that my anxiety was normal given the circumstances, and she would call me the second the test results come in, but it might take a week.

Ugh. A week. A week of walking around thinking I might have cancer.

Then she sent me to the Kaiser lab to get blood drawn. Thanks, doc. You know just how to cheer a girl up. If you haven’t been to the lab at Kaiser in San Francisco, well, it’s pretty much just like Disneyland in that you wait in a really long line except at the end of it they stab you with a needle and suck out your blood. There was almost a riot at the lab once. True story.

So, after god knows how long, they finally call my number, which means I get to check in and move to the other area to waste my time and wait to have my blood drawn. Oh goodie. As I was reading my Entertainment Weekly review of “Iron Man 3″ a pregnant woman sits next to me. She asks me how long I’ve been waiting, because she has an appointment upstairs and she was supposed to get her blood work before and she doesn’t think she’s going to have time.

I was insanely jealous of her. I desperately wished I was getting pregnancy blood work instead of cancer blood work. I’m pretty sure that’s the first time since having my baby that I wished I was pregnant again. Things that make you go hmmm.

I offered to switch numbers with the pregnant lady, because what’s additional 20-minute wait for me at this point, and we should all be very nice to pregnant ladies. She turned me down, but I could tell that she was thankful for the offer, and she left before her number was called.

Since Monday afternoon I’ve been a nervous wreck with that horrible pit in my stomach. I kept crying off and on. Even though I was really busy at work, I kept thinking that I have cancer and this is not how I want to spend my time. In other words, I was barely keeping it together.

Then late yesterday, the bleeding stopped, and I started to feel like maybe I was going to be OK, but I needed the test to confirm that for me. Until then, the horrible feeling wasn’t going away.

This afternoon, my phone rang. I could see it was Kaiser and that nervous feeling took over my entire body. The doctor told me the results would arrive in a week. They’re early. That can’t be good. I picked up my phone and ran out of the office. I work in a cube, and there’s nowhere for me to have a private conversation. The last thing I need is for the office busybody to hear my phone conversation: “So, you thought you had cancer, Sonia. That’s funny. What are you having for lunch?”

Then my doctor told me that everything came back normal. “What’s going on is just a side effect of the tamoxifen. It’s normal.”

“I don’t have cancer?” I blurted out.

“No. You don’t have cancer. The test came back normal.”

“I’m so relieved!” I started to cry.

“I’m relieved, too,” the doctor said.

I called David. I texted my Mom and Michelle. I told my office buddies Paul and Jennifer: “So I totally don’t have cancer after all, you guys.”

Then I rushed home to pick up my baby and hug him, and kiss him 500 times on the forehead and read him “Goodnight, Gorilla” six times in a row before putting him to bed.

To celebrate, mighty, mighty good man David ordered Indian food delivery from one of my favorite places in San Francisco, Shalimar. No easy feat considering they don’t deliver. David used Task Rabbit to get it delivered. Smart and handsome: Sorry, everyone, he’s taken! Then we stuffed our faces and watched “The Simpsons,” which is pretty much my idea of heaven.

I would say that on a day-to-day basis I’m a grateful person. Every day I realize how lucky I am. I hug my friends and family. I tell people that I love them. I’m happy. Today, I am super grateful and super happy.

But what I have to learn to accept about myself is that even though I don’t have cancer anymore, I will never get over the fact that I had cancer.

And now the part of the post you’ve been waiting for: Cute photos!

Once again, everyone is sitting on David.

Homer stakes out his spot in the Spawn’s bedroom, and it’s in the footstool, because why not?

Yoda hats: They’re not just for May the Fourth anymore.

 

My Mother’s Day gift from The Boy arrived early. It’s Crazy Crab. If you don’t know about Crazy Crab, you’re welcome: http://www.rehabthecrab.com/

 

Just married … three years ago

Yeah, so, three years ago this happened …

And this …

Happy anniversary to my mighty, mighty good man David!

I’m starting to think my baby doesn’t like me

Yeah, so, the Spawn hates me.

OK, maybe “hate” is too strong a word. Let’s just say I’m not his favorite. Mighty, mighty good man David is his favorite. I’ve written before about how he is a daddy’s boy. But he’s taking his indifference to me to a whole new level.

Last week, The Boy was sick. He had roseola, which means he had a fever for three days followed by a rash. Poor kid. Considering he had a fever of 102, he was in pretty good spirits. He just wanted to lay around on the couch and watch TV. Toddlers: They’re just like us!

We were sitting on the couch together, watching a Baby Einstein DVD for the 10,000th time. I went into the kitchen to fill up his water cup, and when I returned The Boy had decided that I needed to sit somewhere else. The couch was taken.

(By the way, is there a support group I can join for parents who have seen the Baby Einstein DVDs too many times? The Boy is obsessed with Baby Newton, which contains a song about crayons and drawing a clown and it makes me want to hit myself in the head with a frying pan. Seriously, I’m hearing the song in my sleep. It’s awful.)

The other day, David was holding The Boy, and the kid gave David a kiss. I leaned in: “Do you have a kiss for me?” Then he stuck his hand in my face as if to say, “Oh hell no, Mom.” Shortly after that, David put The Boy down, and the kid bent down and gave the dog a kiss on his back, near his butt.

I know, right?

He would rather kiss the dog’s ass than give me a kiss.

Gee, no, that doesn’t hurt my feeling at all, why do you ask? Don’t mind me, kid, I’m just the lady who ruined her body to create you. I’m the lady that makes your food and does your laundry. But that’s cool. Go ahead and love the dog more than me.

Homer, David and The Boy are all at one end of the couch, and I’m at the other.

I hear that kids go through phases; that they go back and forth on which parents are their favorite. But the Spawn’s favoritism of David has been going on for quite some time now. Mommy is never his favorite. I won’t lie: Sometimes it hurts my feelings. I think I’m a pretty OK mom. I’m fun. I get down on the ground and push cars around and build things with blocks. I start tickle fights. I play music and get short-lived dance parties going in the kitchen. Sure, I’m not perfect, but I’m doing OK. I sew up his ripped stuff animals and what not. He should at least kinda like me.

David is going to be traveling for work in a few weeks. I’m a little worried that it’s going to be four days of The Boy being pissed at me not being his Dad: “Why are you here? Where’s Dad? … Thanks for the food. When does Dad get home again? … You know who’s awesome? Dad! I love that guy. When does Dad get home again?”

Maybe The Boy can sense it. He can tell that I want him to love me. I’m desperate. He can smell it. Maybe I need to read “He’s Just Not That Into You” again. Maybe I need to play hard to get? Or maybe offer a bribe? “Listen, kid. Here’s a box of cheddar bunnies, now love me, dammit!”

Let’s all launch a Kickstarter campaign!

Yeah, so, I’m thinking about launching a Kickstarter campaign to pay off my credit card debt.

Other people who don’t really need the money are using Kickstarter to fund their projects, and I consider paying off my debt a project, so why shouldn’t I launch a Kickstarter campaign? All the cool kids are doing it.

It’s a totally worthy cause, you guys, and you won’t just be throwing your money away. If you donate to my Kickstarter will get something in return, because that’s the thing about Kickstarter, right? Here what you can get:

• I will add you to the Supporting Cast on my blog.
• You can come over and play David’s board games anytime you want.
• I’ll follow you on Twitter and retweet you.
• I’ll give you a cool-sounding nickname and do everything in my power to make that nickname happen for you.
• We have a really fancy cable package, including Cinemax (wink wink, nudge nudge). You can come over and watch whatever you want.
• I’ll cook dinner for you. (I hope you like cereal.)
• Do you like cute things? You can come over and babysit the Spawn and Homer.
• I will like all your Facebook posts, even your posts about God and Jesus and shit like that.
• I’ll be your best friend.

Lunch dates with the office busybody

Yeah, so, there are a lot of things I don’t like about working in a cubicle.

I don’t like that everyone can hear my personal phone conversations, which means I have to finding a hiding spot in the building to make calls about all my various medical issues. I don’t think everyone should have to listen to me schedule a mammogram. “So, you’re getting your boob squished on Monday. That’s cool.”

I don’t like that everyone walking by can see into my cube, which really affects my ability to screw around on the internet and watch cute cat videos.

But my No. 1 complaint is there is no way for me to hide from the office busybody.

I have written about our office busybody before here. She is obsessed with everyone’s lunch. One time, she even bought my lunch off me. True story.

Most people in the office loathe lunchtime, because they know they are going to be quizzed about their lunch. If she hears the microwave running, she comes running. My office buddy Paul told me that one time he saw her go into the restroom and he ran to put his food in the microwave, hoping it would be finished before she came out. It was a noble effort that failed.

Think you can get away with eating your lunch in peace by not warming it up? False. Even when I’m eating vegetables and hummus for lunch, she will wander into my cube: “Is that your lunch, Sonia?”

Yesterday, I ate my lunch early. Somehow I managed to eat under the office busybody’s radar. I ate my lunch without being pestered. It was awesome. I was living the dream. Then, around lunchtime, I was filling up my water cup in the kitchen area, when the office busybody wandered in.

Office busybody: “Where’s your lunch, Sonia?”

Me: [sighs] “I already ate it.”

Office busybody: “Oh, you already ate it. Ha ha ha. I was wondering where your lunch was.”

Me: “Well, I didn’t mean to make you worry. You shouldn’t worry. I’m getting enough vitamins and nutrients.”

Office busybody: “?”

Me: “?” [goes back to my cube]