Dreams really do come true in Woodridge, IL.  We had our second estimate done this morning to reconfigure our walkway.  Our driveway is really steep and winter brings serious threats of broken bones on our driveway..... so we are looking to make "sweeping stairs" so the front door is possible without a shattered pelvis.

The gentleman that came was super nice.  He gave us several options; from most pricey to less expensive.  I appreciate options.  With this estimate comes tearing out the gross bushes in our front yard.  They are so bogus and everyday I dream about beautiful perennials.  Tall ones, short ones, trailing ones......  color.  Yes.

With all this being said, the contractor was most importantly NICE.  Yes, folks.... nice.  Apparently its a difficult thing these days HOWEVER, there are a few good Samaritans out there that still practice the art of being nice.  Por ejemplo, my neighbors are NICE.  Helpful, courteous, polite, always smiling despite adversity.... fucking nice.  And for all you out there that aren't nice, I don't need you.

Shep's new favorite activity is slithering to our coffee table and pulling puzzle boxes towards him.  Great game..... especially when the corner of the box jabs him in his peanutbuttery smoosh face.  Not good.  His other favorite activity is sticking his fat fanny in the air while sleeping.  Love.  Can't get enough of that boo-tay.

Above is a picture of Beau and Ford Petersen.  Their faces about sum it up-- Beau, the muscle behind the operation is just pumped to be playing with new toys, while Ford-O (the brains) is pissed that Beau is on his turf.  I see future fraternity brothers.... with lots of firework igniting, lacrosse and 6-packs while fishing.

I watched the season finale of Teen Mom.  I cried and was again, reminded that Jenelle is a freaking train wreck.  Apparently, she is heroin addict.  Nice move idiot.  Heroin, unlike pot, is the beginning of the end.  Chasing the dragon.  Game over.  Plus, if you need to stick a needle in your arm and aren't diabetic, you need to check your head.  Whatever happened to a lovely glass of Pinot Grigio and some yacht rock.  Christopher Cross and Barefoot PG make almost all problems go away.

Beau turned 8 months on the 16th of April.  He was just born.  I'm not ok with him growing.  No me gusta.  The shrinking serum hath failed me, over and over again.  Despite his continued growth, every phase is better than the previous.  Shep is so stinkin' cute.  He is a good sleeper, smiles a lot and has soft skin like a baby puppy.  I can't complain.

Michigan peeps-- Beau, Kasia-Grace and I will be home in The Hills in May for a week or so, (while Chris demolishes my parents disgusting kitchen and makes it acceptable for company.)  MPG and KKR-- if you're reading this, let me know if you want to get together for some friendship time.

ankle pork

I got a job offer on Monday night; same company I interviewed with in Beloit, WI however, a different position.  The money was fab-oo.... full benefits, doing something completely different than jobs in the past.....  I ended up turning it down.  Ultimately, the move to Beloit/southern Wisconsin isn't in the cards for us right now.  Since decision making is no longer just me, I have to consider Shep and Chris.......and Sarah-Grace a.k.a. Kasia.  Maybe down the road Wisconsin will be our home, but not now.

Back to square one.  Dammit.

In the meantime, I'm a committed mom to Peanutbutterfatrolls and a committed wife to Chris.  If God has something in store for me (professionally speaking), than so be it.  I do think that things happen for a reason, and for whatever reason, He doesn't want me working in Wisconsin.

In better news, Kasia's ears are REAL softies today and so are Beau's beauhawk spikes.  I don't know if its the increase in barometric pressure or spring but.... everyone is soft around here.  Me likey.

Its been about a week since I enforced Beau's new sleeping ritual.  No more swing for naps, no more rocking for many minutes until their is a sleeping baby in my arms.  He is taking 2 naps a day-- one morning, one afternoon.  Bedtime falls between 6-7.  We go in his room, turn on his sound machine and Kimo the Turtle, rock for 5 minutes, sing some songs quietly, and I lay him down in his bed (telling him I love him and that we'll see him in the morning).

So far, so good.  He cries sometimes, but only for a little while; the most has been 20 minutes.  Then, eventually, Shep runs out of steam and falls asleep.  I trust Reamus, his trusty monkey sidekick to keep him safe from the Boogie Man.  Plus, Reamus is super flexible, soft and spent his youth as a Seal Team 6 member.

As Shep gets older, our house gets dirtier and dirtier.  I'm sort of a clean freak and this is a very difficult thing for me to grasp.  Compiled with a very sheddy dog, our digs is not spotless.  We're not quite at the  Hoarders phase, and God help us if we ever reach that point.....  The bathrooms are always clean.  Clean terlits is a must ALWAYS.

Spring hath sprung and I'm bound and determined to get back in shape.  My goal is to walk 4 days a week for about 40 minutes.  As long as the weather holds up, I think this is achievable.  Plus, Shep needs fresh air.

I've had enough of this gun/bomb shit.  Americans have hurt each other 1 too many times, and I'm over it.  We're setting the shittiest example to not only fellow Americans but the rest of the world.  I'm sure we appear as the most insubordinate, ignorant and violent population of people.  How embarrassing.  I propose 2 things:

1.)  Free mental health care to everyone, including medication and counseling

2.)  As recommended by others, very strict hand gun laws, including lengthy steps to receive permits for a weapon and multiple gun safety education

In the wake of Newtown and the most recent Boston bombings, I'm very "on the fence" about the accused/accomplices and their punishment (those that are surviving).  I don't believe in the death penalty; only God can determine who lives and dies.  Now, I have never been directly affected by a loved one being murdered, etc;  I may feel different if I experienced such a travesty.  I want the surviving accuser of the Boston bombings to heal from his wounds, so he can answer to his actions.  His brother didn't survive-- he got off easy.

I have an idea for a business-- anyone out there start their own business?  Comments, advice is greatly appreciated.  And no, I have no capital.

We got 9 inches of rain in the past few days.  I'm waiting for the Arc to come sailing down Perry Drive, unicorns included.  There is a rain ditch/run-off behind our house that normally operates at a trickle-- it Class 5 rapids now.  If I built a raft for Kasia, she would be going 86 m.p.h. down it...ears flapping and all.  She would love it.  I feel sad for all the people with submerged basements/crawl spaces and broken sump pumps.  No bueno.  The only silver lining to all this is perhaps helping Lake Michigan recover from the drought last year, and raise the water level some.

I bought myself a present tonight.  A purple Chicco Echo umbrella stroller.  I was telling myself to wait until garage sale season and buy a cheap one however, this one was on the shelf at Target singing to me.  The shade of purple is Purple Rain.  Beau will learn to love (the symbol) as much as his Aunt Adrienne.  I should tape on some speakers and play only Prince (circa 1994).  Diamonds and Pearls bitches.

Welp.  I had a major meltdown this morning.  The stress of not successfully finding work and a soon-to-be-VERY-mobile toddler has gotten to me.  The following explains the steps leading up to this morning's Cybil moment(s):

Chris brought home a book called "Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child."  This book centers around the importance of sleeping and a sleep schedule for a baby's overall development.  While Beau has been an overall fantastic fat pants in his ripe 8 months of age, we need to break a few bad habits:  pacifier and napping in a swing.

This morning was Day One for item #2.  He awoke at 7 AM, had a bottle and played.  8:45 he started showing signs of fatigue, so I took off his ever-present bib, brought him in his room, turned on his sound machine and Kimo the Turtle (creates the appearance of water on the ceiling), kissed him and said its time for a nap and left him alone.  Beau was PISSED for about 10 minutes, and screamed.... by then he just ran out of gas and fell asleep.  YESSSS.

So, we'll see how nap #2 goes this afternoon and bed time.  I may need a 1.5L of Pinot for what lay ahead.

The pacifier-- since Beau began teething at such a young age and hasn't stopped since then, the "suckie" has been helpful.  It makes his teeth feel better.... because Lord knows that getting teeth hurts. Baby Motrin and Tylenol is a fucking joke.  I need to invent baby vicodin.  So, that's our next hurdle.  Getting rid of the suckies.

I have a facebook complaint.  Someone I know openly makes fun of those parents out there that put up pics of their kids.  This angers me.  I could care less about people's motorcycles, fancy cars.....  so, why can they not tolerate pics of kids?  Facebook has been a great place for me to share photos of Beau with my aunts and uncles that don't live close-- its like a snapshot of his development.  Plus, I only post cute pics.  Now, the parents who are ALWAYS posting shit about their kids being sick..... thats annoying.  No one cares that Susie and Johnny are having their 5th breathing treatment of the week.

Its thundering out and Kasia may be having a coronary.  She can tolerate Chris' compressor in the garage but not thunderbolts and lightening.

I didn't get the job in Wisconsin.  After two follow up calls to their Recruiting Manager, I finally got a voicemail (from him) that I was no longer a candidate due to my lack of microbiology knowledge.  Funny thing-- in all of my interviews (4) there was no mention of microbiology experience, nor in the job description given to me.  So, back to square one.  Frustrating.

Heard a good quote today:

"You always have to be the best, first or different."

If my sister lived here, we could start our own house cleaning/organizing business.  We'd kill it.  Too bad I can't keep up with the dog hair in my own house.  Kasis needs a phlobi suck-cut taped to her back.

Anyone out there watching "Vikings" on The History Channel.  Amazeballs.  Violent but amazing.  

I'm ready for summer.  I'm planning to focus on my flower bed on the south side of our house.  Forgoing the front, we may tear out our walkway-- so it would be a waste of time and money to continue planting in that area.  So, the front of our house will look crappy this year, but the side of the garage will look fantastic.  

The focus will be perennials.  I wont have to plant annuals over and over-- so I mapped out a nice print to follow.  If only I could be in a plant co-op, so I could trade/buy flowers.

Just when you think things will begin to look up, you get a phone call from a recruiter telling you that "8 months is a significant amount of time to be out of job and thus, a big red flag to employers."  Well, I have two words for her-- HOWEVER, I do appreciate her honesty.  What am I suppose to do?  Explain to people that my jerk-off ex-employer laid me off when I was 38 weeks pregnant?  Who the fuck is going to (without laughing) interview a chic that preggers?  Oh wait.  Then there is the minimum 6 weeks of maternity rest.  Jesus on the wooden cross.  I get more pissed as time goes on.

Lets not get it twisted.  I'm so thankful for my health, my son's health and my husband's health (minus his crappy ankles).  I have a great family and great friends.  Beau has lots of pseudo aunties and uncles that give him zerber kisses and squeeze his fanny.  With that aside, momma needs better insurance.  Enter:  a j-o-b.  It's been officially 12 days since my interview in Wisconsin.  Nothing.  Not a peep of communication hath come from their end.  I called the recruiting manager twice now.  Nothing.

I keep daydreaming about this sports bra company.  Perhaps I'll try and carve out some time each day to write a business plan.  Unfortunately, I have not a dime of capital.  I do however, have big hooters and love to run.  What should I call the business?  Hooters In Action?  Sturdy Sportswear?  Ahhhh Sportsbrahhhhs (get it.... like.... ahhhhh, it fits!)

And we're still waiting....... I interviewed last Monday (4-1-2013) in Wisconsin.  I made a follow-up call yesterday to the Recruiting Manager, since I didn't hear from him Friday (which he said he was going to do).  Nothing.  I'm so frustrated.  I just want to know-- yes or no.

When I launch my sports bra company, the following things will be put into place:

1.)  In-house daycare
2.)  Nursing lounges which are separate from the restrooms, complete with dimmer switches, rocking comfy chairs, bottles of water and soundproofing
3.)  Mental health days
4.)  Full benefits, including dental, vision and chiropractic
5.)  Gym
6.)  Casual dress code-- within consideration
7.)  yacht rock playing throughout to stimulate the senses

I'm so over these bs companies that promote creativity, health, etc.  Horseshit.  Walk the walk, don't waste your time talking the talk.  Additionally, I'm going to steal the HR Manager from my old company-- she rocks, kicks ass and can keep a secret.  A must have.

I'm getting the itch again for another tattoo.  I know.  Don't say it.  Whitetrash.  6 is plenty.  I'm beginning to feel like Megan Fox minus the hot body, tantalizing eyes and decent sense of humor (This Is 40 was a shocking and refreshing surprise)...... and Brian Austin Green.....errr.... I mean David Silver.  Inking something having to do with Shep is what I'm envisioning.  Thoughts?

I need a job.  I need a job.  Maybe if I "speak into the future," a job will come to fruition?

If you haven't caught the History Channel's Vikings.... you're a moron.  A must see.  Violence, sex, drama and Ragnar.  Enough said.  So, grab your horn as a drinking apparatus, strap on your sword and get ready.

Its been one full week since my interview in Wisconsin.  I was instructed to wait until Friday-- by then they will have contacted me with an offer.  Nothing.  So, I'm playing the waiting game and frankly, the longer time goes on, the less hopeful I am.  Dammit.

This whole not working thing is great; being home with Beau is great.  I love Shep and all his softness HOWEVER, the longer I'm out the game, the worse off I am.  I don't have time in the day to sit at the computer and look for jobs-- Beau is more active and awake most of the day.  I don't want to plop him down in his "wheelchair" and expect him to sit there like a patient Patty.  No me gusta.

Spring is officially here.  Thank Jesus.  My lilies are starting to come up and my crocus' have already hit the road.  I have lots of ideas for my flower beds this year-- lets just hope Chris will be supportive of my love of gardening and just let me be.  He tends to think that gardening is a once a year thing-- I LOVE that its an ever-evolving thing to do.  I bought some hollyhocks to plant which will be nice on the sunniest side of our house.  Fingers crossed that we get some rain this summer, unlike last year.  Our grass looks like horseshit from last year's drought.

I had my engagement ring and my wedding band taken apart last week; they were soldered together.  My band is a super cheap-o ring from JCPenney; we were in a pinch to find one before the wedding.  Anyhoo, there is a band I want from a local jewelry store and its fantastic.  Gorge.  Too bad its not $30.    So what I was getting at -- my engagement ring looks brand new.  The store cleaned it up and all that jazz-- I think there was a year of lotion, food and other items stuck in it.

Shep will be 8 months old on the 16th.  Time is literally flying by and NOT on my side.  Dammit Mick Jagger.  He is getting 3 teeth on the top, making his total 6.  Holy chompers.  He carpet swims ..... trying to crawl.  God help us.  He loves to push buttons, hold the remote control and touch tags.  I think Shep will be just like his dad and rewiring our kitchen in no time.

He looks like my sister in this picture.  The Beauhawk is in full effect with its own ecosystem.  Lots of porkiness and smooshie circulars.  

I had my fourth and final interview at a potential workplace on Monday.  Though April Fools' Day-- there was no foolin'.  Mama needs a j-o-b.  The hiring manager encouraged me that an offer should come by Friday.  Well, its Friday and there is no offer as of yet.  Fingers crossed its something substantial and not a horseshit number.  Don't come at me with some out-of-college amount and expect me to move to WI.  No me gusta.

Beau and I hit the open road on Tuesday and visited Gertie Beth and Auntie Carrie.  Beau lervs Greta.  Greta loves Beau.  And, that is that.  Gertie loves to walk up to Beau and touch his face and "talk" to him.  Of course, Beau just smiles as if his jaw is dislocated-- it truly warms my heart.  I wish the cousins lived closer to one another.  boo.

My house is a freakin' disaster.  Dog hair everywhere, floors that need some serious washing.... vacuuming.... you name it.  The ONE thing that I did do yesterday was clean the toilets-- something I have to do literally, 4 times a week.  Men.  So freaking dirty.  Gross.  I love to clean however, I don't love cleaning the same thing over and over again day after day.  Chris is a slob and never picks up after himself.  If he puts dishes in the sink I am truly gobsmacked.  So, to all you ladies out there with helpful mates, you're lucky.

Above is Shep's beau hawk.  It has feelings and its own ecosystem.  When he is sad, the 'hawk droops.