Shhhh....
I have a dirty little secret:
Blogging makes me feel validated.

I don't know what it is about blogging, but it makes me feel important. Like I really exist in this world. Something special in a universe of other special things. Like I'm "someone" in this big ole bad blog-o-sphere black hole.

I don't know who reads my blog. I don't even know how many people access it. I rarely even look at the statistics that tells me these things (the last time I looked was months and months ago). However, I still feel some kind of existence just blogging. Maybe it has something to do with my lack of adult contact and spending 12 hours a day babbling, "SAY MAMA! Come on MAAAA-MAAAA. I KNOW YOU CAN SAY IT! SAY MAAAAA-MAAAA" to a 5 month old.

But I could be wrong.
It could be that I'm just completely egocentric.

HM.

A regular customer came in the bookstore today. She had her cute little granddaughter with her. She just turned five. Not only did she get a Barbie car, but she also got a Barbie Cake. When the customer told me this I had a flood of memories and disappointment rush over me.

I never got a Barbie cake.
And I wanted a Barbie cake.
I asked for a Barbie cake growing up.
But I never got a Barbie cake.
Jodie (a girl I grew up with) got a great Barbie cake.
I asked for a Barbie cake for my birthday after that, but I never got one.
And, yes, I'm still bitter.

On occasion, I bring up the Barbie cake neglect to Todd. So much so that sometimes when I'm complaining about something (besides NOT getting a Barbie cake), he'll say, "Yeah, yeah. I know. You never got a Barbie cake."

When I was pregnant, I saw a Barbie cake at the grocery store. There she was, sitting on top of the bakery counter in her own little clear plastic protective box, as beautiful as ever. I knew this was my chance and I shrieked, "A BARBIE CAKE! I want a Barbie cake when I have my baby!!" Fully understanding and knowing the importance of THE BARBIE CAKE, I just KNEW my sensitive husband would remember and get me a Barbie cake to celebrate Ella's birth. Five months later? Still waiting for that Barbie cake...

For those of you who have NO IDEA what a Barbie cake is, you must now leave my blog...
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Still here? *sigh* OK. A Barbie Cake is a Barbie doll stuck in a cake to look like the cake part is the bottom of her big ball gown. A Barbie cake looks like this:

(Isn't she ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL?!?!)

Anyway, my bookstore customer today told me that she had a Barbie cake when she was a child. She reminded me that most Barbie cakes had only "faux" Barbies - that is the doll part had no legs (it was just a Barbie upper torso on a stick).

That's not how I remember it. Jodie's Barbie cake had a REAL, FULL SIZE Barbie. Know how I know? I GOT TO PLAY WITH THE BARBIE WHEN I NEVER RECEIVED MY OWN BARBIE CAKE.

Yes. I'm STILL BITTER.

So, I'm here today to officially announce the unofficial title of my memoir:

I Never Got a Barbie Cake (and Other Childhood Deprivations That Made Me Who I Am Today).

I'm totally serious. So don't steal it (HELLLOOOOO COPYRIGHTED MATERIAL).

Did I mention I never got a Barbie cake?!?!

Remember just a few postings ago when I whined about how much I needed a make-over? Nothing like having your worst thoughts verbalized to you in a matter of two days.

So, we're once again in a pre-approved Weight Watchers meal restaurant crappy pizza joint when a woman walks over and looks at me and looks at Ella and says, "Is this your grand-daughter?" I actually laughed. It was amusing to me because Todd has this paranoia that we are going to take Ella to her first day of kindergarten and everyone is going to think he is the grandpa. I think it also didn't bother me because the woman was (not to be mean) mentally challenged. So, OK, maybe to her I did look like a grandma. No biggie.

Until today.

A bookstore customer of ours came in when Ella and her keeper dropped by and the customer said, "Is this your grand-daughter?"

It wasn't that funny this time around. (Especially since I just colored my hair...HELLLLOOOO)

I know I'm getting OLD. But 39 is NOT. THAT. OLD.

Dang.
I seriously need a makeover.
Apparently one to take about 35 years off...

It's really hard to be healthy when you have a baby.
REALLY REALLY HARD.
(Not to mention my husband is a REALLY REALLY bad influence. Sorry honey, you know it's true...)

So in an attempt to lose the baby weight (and then some, OH, and get into those size 6 jeans that are buried at the back of my closet that aren't even in style anymore), I decided to go on the Weight Watchers at home program.

It went pretty well for the first couple of weeks. I actually lost something like 12 pounds. I cheated, but it was way healthier than I had been eating since Ella was born. And then? I don't know what happened.

I'm tired.
Too tired to cook.
Too tired to think about it.
Too tired to be motivated.

Excuses? Maybe. (And did I mention my husband is a REALLY REALLY bad influence?!?)
(Yes, it IS nice to have someone else to blame Heh heh heh).

So the past couple of days I've used an upcoming trip as my excuse. You know, as in, "OH, I'm going on a trip and will eat crappy anyway, I might as well start over when I get back."

So today I visited a local fast food restaurant for a pre-approved Weight Watchers meal CHEAT chicken sandwich (who am I kidding? Of course I had the whole value meal! I mean, it IS a VALUE). Upon ordering, I received a "Do you want a tomato on that?" from the girl at the window. In light of the recent tomato scares, I actually contemplated for a second before I said, "I dunno, is it too scary?" Two managers standing behind the girl visably GRIMACED and looked at each other before one of them said, "Welllllll....we've been approved to serve them again, but..." *shrug* I beamed back a big smile and said, "SURPRISE ME. I feel like living dangerously today" (I almost saw LIABILITY beaming over her head like a neon sign as she hesitated).

In case you are wondering, I didn't receive the tomato. But I did eat every bit of that cheater chicken sandwich.

And, I almost licked the box.

Nothing is ever innocent anymore...especially on the Internet. The most innocently entered search terms can net some of the most interesting (& shocking) results. Case in point:

This morning I INNOCENTLY entered the following search terms for some clipart for a T-shirt I'm working on:
black and white hanging sign clipart

Seems innocent enough, right? I thought so, too. Well, until I get this result:
http://www.clipartguide.com/_pages/0060-0504-1516-0610.html

Color me surprised that this item was removed.
UH, HELLLLLOOOOOO...
(WHAT is WRONG with people?!?!)

My baby hates me.

She's at a point where it seems like everyone else can get her to calm down when she's upset but me. I know this can't be an uncommon new mother feeling - at least that's what the intellectual side of me (yes, I do have one of THOSE) is saying, but the emotional side is screaming:

I GAVE BIRTH TO YOU. HOW CAN I NOT CALM YOU DOWN?!?!

This morning she had a cry that I had never experienced before - almost like a frightened (or bad dream) cry. So I bounced up to get her and she just wouldn't calm down. After a few minutes Todd took her and it seemed like she calmed right down. "Why does my baby hate me?" I asked him. I was pretty upset and laid in bed for a little while before I got up and did what any self-serving, self-respecting research writer would do: I Googled.

I actually Googled "Why does my baby hate me?" and wasn't surprised to find that someone had posted this same question on a Yahoo forum. I knew it wasn't just me!

The person seemed to be having the same sort of problem (although her baby seemed a little older than mine). Her baby cried whenever she saw her (the mom) and no matter what the mom did she could never get the baby to calm down. There were four posting answers and all of them said basically the same thing: don't pick her up because that makes it worse, AND (get this) FEED HER A SNACK. "Keep feeding her snacks and she will finally stop and be happy."

Huh?!?
Wha?!?

UH.
OK.

Even as a new parent, this didn't seem like sound advice to me. FEED HER A SNACK!?! Uh. No. I scroll back up to re-read the post to see if I missed something (like maybe her baby was, say, a RHESUS MONKEY). And there it was, glaring back at me like a big red warning DON'T BE CONFUSED flashing neon sign:

Harvest Moon DS

(In case you don't know, they were talking about a VIDEO GAME, NOT a REAL BABY).

*sigh*

(Guess it's a good thing I don't try everything I read on the Internet...)