Work has been driving me into the ground. I may not work many hours a week (25ish?), but those hours seem to drag on. I hate being the face on a time stamp.
"You'r script will be ready in 45 minutes."
"45 minutes?! How hard is it to count?"
"I am sorry sir. There is much more that goes in to filling a prescription than just counting... not to mention the thiry something prescriptions in front of yours..."
"Well, can you put a rush on it? I need it yesterday and I am supposed to be [insert some place to be RIGHT NOW.]
"Sir, you've has this script for 5 days now... Why is it that you just now need it OH MY EFFING GOODNESS THIS SECOND OR YOU MIGHT DIE?"

And people wonder why I drink.

My little muffin is 9 months old today. I guess 9 months has hit me harder than all the other months because he has almost been an outside baby longer than he was just MY baby. I mean, I guess he wasn't just mine... but he was. Liam is amazing. He loves to give kisses and hugs and high fives. He stood UNASSISTED for 10 seconds on Christmas. He laughs at my stupid jokes. He naps well, sleeps through the night and wakes up with a smile. If this could just last forever, I could (would) die happy. I never, ever want to forget how blessed I am that my boy is here, is real, is TANGIBLE, while so many other mommies with my same IF conditions can only touch their babies in their dreams. Thank you, universe, for giving a nobody a chance at being a mom to a somebody. I promise I won't let you down.

Sometimes I wish I had more time for this thing, but if I did, it wouldn't be my crazy life. I finally finished the semester strong with 2 B's and 1 A, which I am really proud of. I felt like I was being stretched in a million different directions for the past few months: mom, partner, student, employee, daughter... Just call me Strech Armstrong. Ask me and I will tell you I'm a total type B personality, but I am pretty sure I'm a closet-type-A. The house is clean but never clean enough. I try to be super mommy with park play dates, clean clothes and pretty regular baths, but the truth is, sometimes I fail. Just last month I realized I hadn't bathed my kid in 4 nights. FOUR NIGHTS. I leave clothes in the washer until they are sour and then wash them again. I don't spend nearly enough time putting in an effort in the lover section of my life. Homework can always wait... until the hour before it's due, when I am scrambling around trying to finish it. And these things drive me CRAZY about myself. But at the end of the day, my kid is alive, my house isn't being condemned by the health department and I am enjoying a nice glass of wine on the couch next to the love of my life. Somehow, that makes it all ok.

My house is in total scrambles as I get ready for Christmas. I am really surprised I even found the laptop charger... It's hard to buy presents for my "new" family. We're on an EXTREME budget this year, but it wouldn't feel right not getting MIL and GMIL something. I ordered them canvas pictures of Liam and Trevor. As I was looking through my photo albums to create them, I realized I have very few pictures with my son. I stupidly opened the album of the day of his birth and relished in those first few moments of his sweet, wrinkly face. It is dangerous for moms to have access to these types of pictures... I had to extinguish that baby fever and fast. Somedays, I would give anything to go back and relive those first few months because frankly, I just can't remember them. Since that is impossible to do, from here on out I will vow to document more, photograph more, and be photographed more. Damn, I don't want these days to end...

Im out.
<3

Lately, I've been feeling pretty down. I have live with depression since I can remember, but after Liam, it got pretty bad. After a dosage change on my Celexa, I felt ok. Now, not so much. I don't know if it is circumstantial or chemical, but it sucks.

Hi. I'm Caitlyn. I decided to start this blog because sometimes, I just have to laugh at my crazy life and if I document it, I figure you can laugh with me. I am an unwed (GASP) mom to Liam, my my cool little bug who likes to keep me on my toes. I am a fiance' to Trev, who also keeps me on my toes and on my...well, nevermind. I am a student studying to be a teacher and I am a pharmacy tech on the side. At the end of the day, all I want is an IV of Pinot Grigiot STAT PRN life.

I try to make it a daily goal to document at least one thing I have done productive during that day. That way, when my guilty conscience looks back at all I haven't accomplished, I can tell it to shut the h3ll up without feeling too guilty.

Today, I got myself to school on time for the first time in a while. The little things.

I need to get better at this blogging thing. Most nights, by the time I get the little monster to bed, clean the bottles and do a general straightening up of the house, I need copious amounts of wine to wind down. I love my kid, don't get me wrong, but we are definitely in the hold-me-or-I-will-make-your-life-hell stage. And sometimes, I just want to pee alone. Anyways, wine-fueled blogging could end badly for me, but alot of times thats what you'll get from me.

I'm majoring in Early Childhood Education (que the WHYYYY'S?) and finished up my field experience hours today. I had to do 40 this semester and got paired with a great teacher. 3rd grade is rough. I now understand completely why they have to specify in the handbook that teachers aren't allowed to drink on school premises. The kids were awesome, but getting them on task is like herding cats. There were times when I stood back and thought, "How in the hell do I want to do this everyday?" But today, as I packed up to leave for the day, the kids presented me with a card they had made to say thank you. The comments they wrote brought tears to my eyes: "I love you because you're nice." "I think you'll be the best teacher." I had a moment of "ok. this is why I want to do this."

My kid decided that 6 A.M. is an acceptable time to start our day, and every day I tell him "No the F it isn't." I don't think he understands yet. Trevor told me that it's my fault since I haven't taught him to talk yet. Touche'. A few days ago, I was slightly annoyed with him for insisting I get up and at myself for finishing that last glass of Pinot grigiot. I brought him back to bed with me to lay down, but he kept sitting up and touching my face. After five minutes of him growling at me, I finally gave in and opened my eyes. You know what he did? He planted the biggest, wettest kiss on my forehead. That kid sure does know how to get out of trouble.

I convinced T to take me out for mexican (aka margaronas) tonight, so I'm off to throw on something mildly acceptable (aka pants) and get my taco on (thats what he said.)

Adios!