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Baby Basics 101 = Holy Shitballs! We’re Sooooo Not Ready.

Monday night, Ross and I went to the Baby Basics class which is supposed to show you how to handle a newborn. This entire experiment just proved our inadequacies which I was expecting but it didn’t make me feel any better. First, they talked about some of the classes we’d already been to (aka birthing, breastfeeding, etc). Then they got into the actual, you have an infant in your house, what the hell do you do now?


I felt like I had this covered. I’d done this when I was little with my cabbage patch dolls, it couldn’t be that different. I would surely remember how to do this. WRONG!

1. Ross picked the biggest baby doll they had. This thing was the size of a toddler and was built differently than every other doll in the room which had static plastic arms and legs. Ours was all squishy and pliable (like a real infant) which made me feel like everyone else was cheating and didn’t know it.

2. They gave us a blanket in the shape of a fucking rhombus when the thing is supposed to be in a square. So I spend 5 minutes trying to manipulate this thing into the shape of a square so that it will fold right but that was a futile effort. In addition, this thing is made of felt so it sticks together making the job harder.

3. We manage to get this thing to some semblance of a workable swaddle shaped blanket, folding a “corner” down for the head to rest on. Then we wrap it. Well, because this thing is a clusterfuck it doesn’t really fold right and I’m sorry, but that nurse never said to keep the arm out and fold the blanket under the arm. So, she comes around to each and every table to check their work and we’re the only ones that she has to re-swaddle completely. Awesome!


This doesn’t seem so hard so I refused to pretend that I was bathing this gigantic doll with pretend water and a dry wash cloth. Done!

Diaper Changing

Again, I’ve seen this done a thousand times on TV and in movies. It can’t be that hard. Then again, they’re not trying to diaper a toddler with newborn size diapers which are EVER so tiny. I manage to squeeze the doll into this diaper the size of a thank you note and get my tab down. Ross, much like me, has never held a baby nor changed a diaper. He didn’t quite understand the flap mechanism to attach the two ends together. After a few tries trying to stick the diaper together without unlatching the flap, he figured it out. This made him very happy.

After the aspirator instruction, the class was pretty much over. Then this conversation happened on the way back to my car…

Ross: “Sometimes I worry about you being a parent.”

Me: “What?!?”

Ross: “Well, you’re a little rough around the edges but I know there’s going to be one area where you are really going to be great!”

Me: “Oh, yeah? You mean discipline?”

Ross: “No. This kid’s whole first year is paperwork and scheduling. When does it eat? How much? How many diapers? You’ll be great at that!”

Me: “You mean the bureaucracy of parenthood?

Ross: “Yeah!”

Me: “Ghee Whiz, Thanks.”

What kind of Parents will we be?

Ross and I had a conversation the other day about how spoiled our child is going to be. My husband seems to think that it won’t be a problem but let me tell you a little story that happened just last night to prove my point.

We were at Target to kill some time before our maternity ward tour and we wandered into the toy aisles to look around. The conversation went as follows:

Me – “Oh, look they have a Grumpy Bear! I love Grumpy Bear. He’s sooooo, grumpy and cute.”

I put the bear back down. Ross follows behind me and picks it back up and tucks it under his arm.

Me – “What are you doing?”

Ross – “Buying you the Grumpy Care Bear.”

Me – “Why?”

Ross – “Because you want it.”

Me – “I’m 36 years old, I don’t need a Grumpy Bear. It’s $20.”

Ross – “So.”

Me – “You know this is going to get slobbered on by our daughter…”

Ross – “No, I bought this for you. It needs to go in the attic with the other Care Bears.”

We walked out with a Grumpy Bear and nothing else.

After this exchange, all I have to say is…Yeah right! Our daughter isn’t going to be spoiled.  Good luck world. Here she comes.

Gestational Diabetes

So, I’m sitting in the waiting room for my three hour test for glucose tolerance and I’m already pissed off. First, I couldn’t eat or drink anything for 12 hours before the first blood draw. Yes, I said first. There will be 3 more. Which for a pregnant woman is a long f’ing time not to eat or drink anything. I wake up thirsty and hungry. Also, if I don’t eat, I get HANGRY. SERIOUSLY HANGRY. No one wants that. Those that know me personally can imagine. It’s like a raving bitch on steroids.

Then, once the initial blood draw was done, I had to chug a drink that is so full of sugar there’s a warning on the label that it may make me sick and yak. JOY! On a good day, when this concoction is cold it tastes like a flat orange crush with the acidic after bite of a coke. It’s unpleasant. The worst part is that it makes you more thirsty than you were before and I still can’t drink anything.  My teeth feel like they’ve been coated in a pixie stick which is disgusting in and of itself. And because there was so much sugar in that thing, she won’t stop jumping around which doesn’t help the nausea.

So, here I sit, waiting for blood draws number 2, 3, and 4. Did I mention that I hate needles? No? Well, I do. Loathe actually. So, as days go, this is not one of my favorites.

New Year Resolutions

Okay, so today is the official start of 2015. Happy New Year everyone! The tradition is to make resolutions in order to…I don’t know…make your life better or something like that. In the last few years, I haven’t made any resolutions because – well – I don’t stick to them. I’m horrible at keeping them and quite frankly, I make them way to impossible to stick to in the first place. I have to believe that most people do this too. The worst was always the resolution to lose weight. First of all, this is never going to happen because:

1. I’m lazy. I hate working out (which you’ll probably find funny later). I hate sweating and I would much rather be at home with a good book.

2. I have portion control issues. I don’t understand that I shouldn’t eat everything on my plate. This is probably a product of being told my entire adolescence to clean my plate. But I also know that it will never be as good as it is right at that moment. And it’s soooooo gooooood. I don’t particularly have a sweet tooth, but I love bread, pasta and anything with a carb base. \

3. I hate to cook. I love going out to restaurants and having my food prepared for me. It’s not that I can’t cook. I just don’t like it.

So, what I propose this year is a set of resolutions that are both achievable and not CRAZY. This would involve something that has a routine and happens on a regular basis. So, here we go.

My New Year’s Resolutions…


As anyone who follows this blog knows, I’m HORRIBLE at this. First, I don’t feel like I’m that interesting to have something to say every week and second, like I said…LAZY. This is my first blog of the year and I will write a blog each week if it kills me DAMMIT!


Now, this is going to become more important come March when I give birth and there is an infant screaming it’s head off in this house. I have the feeling that we will no longer have the disposable income to eat out on a regular basis. Plus, I imagine that toting a newborn around to restaurants is both annoying to other customers and a pain in the ass. So, cooking at home and meal planning will become more imperative. UGH, this one makes me a little sad.


I know, I know. I said I hate to workout, sweat, and basically everything involved with exercise. It’s completely true. However, I know I feel better when I do workout whether that’s yoga, cardio, weight training, or simply walking. The problem is going to be finding the time and making myself do it.


There are people out there that will tell you “you have to write every day”. That’s fine if you’re writing contemporary romance, historical romance, or something light like that. The problem is that I write graphic, gruesome shit. If I was in that headspace everyday, I would slit my wrists with a plastic knife. There’s only so much blood, death, and violence one person can take…even me. Three days a week of quality time would be awesome.


So, there are my New Year’s Resolutions. Any more than that and I know I wouldn’t complete them. I’d love to know what you think and what you’re resolutions are for 2015.

Mark of the Demon Preliminary Excerpt

This is a work in progress and has not been edited. 

Flames licked the clouds as the orange sky blazed overhead. Stepping out of the sedan, I already missed the conditioned air that made it easier to breathe. The onyx building towering before me was as sturdy and solid as a fortress but just as deadly as any prison. As I strode inside, the smell of sulfur burned my nose and I rolled my shoulders to wipe the distaste from my expression.

The guard at the door eyed me. Like every other despicable, demon lowlife in this dimension, his beady, red gaze skimmed up my body with a lecherous twitch of his lips. I ignored him and moved on.

As the elevator pinged and the doors slid open, rage and hurt churned in my gut. I ground my teeth and hardened my expression as the elevator rose. With each floor up, heat made the air thick; burning my lungs as I climbed closer to the fire in the atmosphere.

I remember blue skies, oceans that didn’t boil but were blue and cool. I remember waking in the green grass and the soft blades sinking between my toes, not this rocky, dusty wasteland. I remember my mother before we were taken from our home and brought to this place of black towers and burning skies. I remember her smiling, laughing. Reaching up to the soft gold ring dangling from my neck, I clutched it in my grasp. It was the last piece of her I had. The feel of her soft skin as she brushed my hair, her scent – spicy and feminine was like a knife to my heart each time I thought of her. How much I missed her and how angry at her I was that she’d left me alone. With them.

Dropping the chain, I buried the images of my mother from my mind. Thinking of her or our home wouldn’t do me any good. Any sign of emotion would demonstrate to Ardal that I was weak and any mention of my mother would anger him.

The elevator pinged and I shoved everything away as the steel doors slid open. Squaring my shoulders and raising my chin high in the air, I stepped out into an office I knew all too well.

“Maddox, I’ve been waiting for you,” the demon behind the desk barked. “You’re late.”

“Yes,” I swallowed, “Master.” The word tasted like acid as it rolled off my tongue. Bowing my head, I hid the venom flashing in my gaze from him. I was human, a slave, and expendable. Although I had more freedom than most, I still belonged to Ardal. The brand on my shoulder blade told the world I belonged to him and his family. Balling my hands into tight fists at my sides, I raised my gaze to my master and waited for his orders.

The secret “JOYS” of pregnancy

If you haven’t already guessed by the title of this post, I’m knocked up. This is my first child and at 36 years old, I’m categorized as elderly in my medical records. This fact does not particularly sit well with me. I’M NOT THAT OLD.  Also, at this point, more people have seen my hoo-ha in the last four months than have been to a circus. With two trips to the emergency room and a doctor’s office that has revolving doctors, I’m no longer shy about flashing the world. I pretty much feel the world has already seen what I have to offer.

I’ve also discovered some things that the books and your friends won’t tell you until you get knocked up which just isn’t fair.

Things they don’t tell you:

1. Your gag reflex becomes ridiculously sensitive. So sensitive, in fact, that I’ve gagged myself several times brushing my teeth. I’ve dry heaved to the point of throwing up. That, sure  as hell, wasn’t in any of the books.

2. People want to touch you. Why? I don’t know. I don’t grant wishes or have magical powers. I also don’t know you so get the fuck out of my personal space, and keep your hands to yourself. I’m going to start walking around with a hula hoop tied around my waist like someone wearing a barrel. If you are against the hula hoop barrier, you are too close. BACK UP! I can already feel an assault charge coming my way at the prospect of random people just walking up and touching me. If you haven’t noticed, I have personal space issues.

3. Morning sickness is a misnomer. It doesn’t just happen in the morning and you don’t always throw up. Sometimes, like me, you’re sick from when you get up until you go to bed and never once throw up from it. You just feel like a sluggish piece of nauseated crap ALL DAY LONG. So, there’s that.

4. You may also bleed which is frightening. Hence, the two trips to the emergency room. The second time, I passed a blood clot the size of a small chicken which prompted us to visit the lovely new OSU emergency room at 10 pm on a Sunday night. We didn’t get home until around 2 am. Fun times.

5. You will be both hungry and full all the time. I eat a hand full of something and want to throw up from being too full. Half an hour later, I’m ready to rip someone’s head off because I’m starving. It’s both annoying and aggravating. I started keeping snacks around the house to prepare for this so I could have a quick bite and then go on about my day. The only problem is that my husband keeps eating all my fucking snacks. So now, I’m hungry and pissed because what I wanted to eat is no longer in the house.

6. It’s weird to have someone growing inside you. When you see it on the screen, it’s a little like aliens and you think, “God, that’s weird.” We still don’t know what the gender is and my friend made the statement, “you might have a penis growing inside of you right now.” When you stop to think about it, that’s weird, especially when you put it like that.


I promise not to fill this blog with baby related posts, just he funny stuff. I just had to get this one off my chest.

Emails and Math Evidently Don’t Mix

This conversation actually took place this week! When you don’t believe me that I work with some ridiculous people, I’m have PROOF! Then names have been changed (except for mine) to protect the innocent...Ahem. The trail ends with that snarky THANK YOU! Even though I just answered a question of simple math. MATH! We work at a university, that should not be above you, especially considering this person is also a fiscal officer. SIGH


I’m sorry but the trail starts at the bottom and reads up.




From: Suzanne
Sent: Tuesday, August 12, 2014 9:39 AM
To: xxxxxxxxx
Subject: RE: GTA for Spring 15


Hi xxxxxx,





From: xxxxxxx
Sent: Tuesday, August 12, 2014 9:37 AM
To: Suzanne
Subject: RE: GTA for Spring 15


Ok, what is the total stipend for each category of GTA for one semester?



From: Suzanne
Sent: Tuesday, August 12, 2014 9:36 AM
To: xxxxxxxx
Subject: RE: GTA for Spring 15


Each semester is 4.5 now. So SP would be January 1 through May 15th.


From: xxxxxxx
Sent: Tuesday, August 12, 2014 9:35 AM
To: Suzanne
Subject: RE: GTA for Spring 15


Would that would be 4 monthly payments (Jan-Apr) or 5 (Jan – May)?  We rarely use GTA’s and I seem to remember the first year of the semester conversion this was an issue.




From: Suzanne
Sent: Tuesday, August 12, 2014 9:33 AM
To: xxxxxxxx
Subject: RE: GTA for Spring 15


Hi xxxxxx,

MA student is 1500 a month

PhD is 1550 a month

And ABD is 1600 a month.



From: xxxxxxxx
Sent: Tuesday, August 12, 2014 9:32 AM
To: Suzanne
Subject: GTA for Spring 15


Hi Suzanne,


Hope you had a nice summer.  Director has agreed to give your faculty member a GTA 50% in support of teaching 2500 in Spring 15.  I wanted to put this on your radar since your department would be supplying the graduate student. Our plan would be to pick up stipend and fee waiver.  What do you pay your graduate students?



True Blood…WTF?

Okay, I’ve been watching True Blood since the beginning because at the time, I loved the books. The last three books cured me of that particular disease. I’ve never spent so much time in a damned piggly wiggly and I’ve never actually been inside one.

Sigh, but I digress.

There have been questionable seasons of True Blood, Season 2 with the Maenad was weird and went nowhere. That whole season with the Fae and Rutger Hauer, yeah that was kinda in the books but it wasn’t really all that great there either. The Fae war was definitely something they should have left by the way side. Last season was pretty good though, with the Authority and Bill going all evil and shit. I hate Bill so I was all for him going evil and needing to die. That made me happy. Then they made him nice again and I wanted to puke.

Back to my point and I promise there is one.

This season, the last season…I’m not sure what to make of it. Every episode I watch, I come away with a complete feeling of ambivalence. Its an hour out of my week that I check my email and book stats while Sookie runs around Bon Temps and characters from years gone by make appearances and I try to remember who they are and why I should care. The best part of this season and quite frankly any season has been Pam and Lafayette. And no, I’m not forgetting Alexander Skarsgard. He is beautiful and I love – LOVE – Eric Northman but Pam and Lafayette are on a planet all their own. When Pam looks in the mirror and says “look, I’m a republicunt”, I almost blew Iced Tea out of my nose. FANTASTIC!

This season is like an extended version of And the Band Played On.  I don’t understand Hep V. What is the point and why I should care that vampires are dying from a weird blood born disease? It’s depressing and because everyone is sick, they are mopey and sad.

They’re vampires.

They’re already dead.

Don’t give me 10 minutes of sad pre-true death grief. I don’t care.

There seems to be no arc, no purpose other than watching people cry and die. Ugh, there are only 3 episodes left and I just don’t care. I’ll watch them as I read the last three books despite being annoyed. I don’t, however, see anyway to redeem this season. They would have to blow up Bon Temps and kill everyone to make this right. I don’t see that happening.

Then again, after Game of Thrones, everything pales in comparison.