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    Forgetting more than I’ve ever remembered

    May 24, 2007

    So tonight I’m sitting at the computer, paying a few bills like I do every month. Things go well for the water bill and the Visa bill (read: I am able to not only remember the username and password for these accounts, I also manage to successfully pay the bill on the first try) and then we come to the phone bill. Hmmm…user name for the phone bill…hmmm…you’d think I would know this since I pay this bill online on the same day every single month of the year and have been doing it this way for almost three years now. Okay, well it MUST be one of three different possibilities. Try #1: Um, nope. Try #2: Huh. Okay, well that’s not it then. Try #3: Uh…*mentally kicking self for not writing this information down in case of early onset dementia*.

    I can at least remember what email address I used when I registered the account and (bonus!) what my phone number is, which is all that is required to request your username. Surely once I am reminded of what the elusive username is, the missing password will just click in and I’ll be in business. Except that once I have the username (oh yeah–that’s right, I registered THAT username) once again, I’m faced with four different possible contenders for what password I used.

    Can you guess how it went?

    Try #1: Oh. Okay, well maybe I just put that other number on the end. Try #2: Hmm…okay guess it wasn’t that number or that other number. Try#3: Ooh…maybe *crossed fingers*–nope. Try#4: I knew this at one time, right?

    I could request the password be reset, but that involved a ’security’ question that I’m sure I set up and yet…have no clue what the possible answer I gave could be.

    I’m thinking there is a distinct possibility that the phone bill is not getting paid on time this month.

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    Expanding his palate, one gross thing at a time

    May 15, 2007

    I wonder what I was thinking when I assumed that because the semester was over that I would have so much more free time. I think it just seems like I’m still constantly pressed for extra time because there have actually been a few random time-sucking things come up–mainly doctor appointments for all three of us (possible future book titles based on our experiences: “The Sinus Infection that WOULD.NOT.LEAVE”; “A boy, his Pooh Bear and the Eczema spot that his mother mistook for Ringworm”; and last but not least, “No Seriously, I don’t want to see It, just call the Doctor and have It looked at Already”). I am hoping that we have all been doctored-up enough to last us through the rest of the year. Seriously.

    Mother’s Day was lovely–I received a wonderful card from Owen and his father and enjoyed a dee-lightful pedicure on Saturday (cracked heels, peeling polish, overgrown cuticles, oh my!) as my reward for all my hard work. I think I’m going to have to work harder to find the time to sneak off for a pedicure more often. You know, for my mental well-being and all.

    Owen has discovered that he can move beyond the military belly crawl and has progressed quickly from pulling up and hesitatingly moving along the length of things to speedily cruising from one piece of furniture to another all the way around the living room. I fear anticipate that a fully walking boy will be under our roof very very soon. With all of Owen’s newfound mobility has also come the discovery of tasty morsels that apparently are just too tempting to not put in his mouth. Several of the more delectable items that he has discovered in the past two weeks: a several month old dried up french fry from somewhere in the living room (I have NO clue where this came from), several assorted and varied in nature hairball/dustbunny combos, his own hair clippings at his first hair cut, dog kibble, and lastly, a nice big bar of Ivory Soap. All this from the child who acts as though I am poisoning him when I place cut up fruit on his tray.

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    Reason #4,382,456 why I am a bad bad person

    May 10, 2007

    Tonight, while aggravated with my husband, I let him think that the wet spot on the bed was from Owen’s freshly bathed head. In fact, I am pretty positive that Owen managed to pee (on my husband’s side of the bed no less) in the nanosecond between when I set him down and when I put a diaper on him. Because I am a bad bad person, I do believe I’ll wait to share this information with my husband until tomorrow at the very earliest. Satisfaction comes in all manner of ways.