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I felt it the minute I woke up on Monday morning. Or more specifically, I didn't feel it. I didn't feel anything. Probably not a big surprise or shocker here, but I've been struggling with my anxiety levels for awhile now. I have retyped that sentence at least 17 times, because "struggling" doesn't seem to go far enough, but alternatives like "suffering" or "practically debilitated by" seem too drama queenish.'s been bad, guys. On Monday, though. A switch got flipped. I woke up late vs. waking up before dawn, and instead of feeling wracked with anxiety over the day's mundane to-do list and Trump-related existential terror, I felt...nothing. Just the abyss of a depressive spiral. Not to get too gross-out personal (LOL AT THE SHIT IN THE ARCHIVES), but I first blamed my anxiety on hormones, and my super-irregular menstrual cycles. So I decided to try a birth control implant in my arm that my (NOW FORMER) doctor swore up and down had zero mood-related side effects and would eventually stop my periods altogether, like WOOT. I didn't need the birth control aspect (SNIP SNIP) but figured no bleeding or PMS sounded pretty great, let's give it a try!... Read more →

For Stacy, In the Event That It Is Too Late

When the phone rings late at night, there are really only two options. Disaster or butt dial. When I answered my phone late last night, I was hoping for the latter, only to be greeted by quiet sobs instead of the muffled sounds of his back pocket. The worst part is when he said who it was, her first name, my mind went momentarily blank with confusion. Wait, Stacy? Which Stacy? I know more than one Stacy. And none of those Stacys made any sense in this context, in this particular sentence: Stacy killed herself. And then the wires connected and the lightbulb switched on. Oh my God. STACY. NO. I've spent all day trying to write about, well, anything else. Sponsored post draft was due, then some dry-as-hell copywriting, tweaking of some landing page headlines and scouring through campaign analytics to find room for improvement. Blah, blah, blah. Let the people who were closer to her tell their stories -- not people like me, who foolishly allowed her to vanish from the Internet without following. People like me, who have such a cluttered mess of a social media life that I'd be all but guaranteed to miss any posted... Read more →

Night of the Meatloaf

Last night, I sat alone in a corner booth of a fast-food burrito joint, with black mascara streaks all over my face. It was awesome, as you can probably imagine. Jason sent me an email in the afternoon to tell me there was a work happy hour he had to go to, but he wouldn't be too late. I sent him an email reminding him that, in typical end-of-the-week fashion, we had no food in the house, so could he pick something up before he came home? Burritos from Chipotle would be good, I suggested. Mmmm, Chipotle, I thought, after hitting send. Chipotle would be very, VERY good. And so I waited. I fed Noah his dinner, lamented the lack of ANYTHING ELSE EDIBLE in the house, at least anything edible that wouldn't 1) turn my stomach or 2) spoil my appetite for the sure-to-be delicious burrito that would arrive any second now, and then I spent an hour engaged in a completely pointless and circular argument with Noah about exactly what potty-related business was worthy of an M&M, and no, you don't get one for just sitting there, and stared at the clock. 7 pm. 7:30. God, I was... Read more →

In the Meantime We Got it Hard

Noah's occupational therapy has been...not going well. To put it mildly. We've made so little progress -- OT arrives at door, Noah bolts, spends entire session wailing from under the dining room table because he. Does. NOT. Want. To. Ride. On. A. Towel. Christ. Almighty. -- so his therapist suggested moving his sessions to the EI center and enrolling him in a couple structured class-type things. Today was the first of those structured class-type things. The Lunch Bunch, they call it. For kids with oral motor problems and sensory food issues. On paper, it sounds lovely -- a little circle time, feeding plastic food to a puppet, then setting the table and eating some lunch, cleaning up and a story. Every other week the kids make the lunch; other weeks you bring it from home. One food they like and another they don't, which they will then be encouraged to lick or kiss or even just to TOUCH it while putting it in the clean-up bucket. So it's a lot of kids who eat crackers and shriek at the sight of lunch meat, basically. Our kind of people. But...oh God. I don't even know where to begin. There are no... Read more →

Not McLovinit

I am typing this in bed, but not the NICE kind of bed-typing (sitting up against multiple fluffy pillows in a marabou-trimmed dressing gown while everyone around you murmurs admiring words re: the strength of your will for blogging while consumptive). I'm typing with one hand while my laptop is precariously perched on one slightly raised knee; my other arm is wrapped around a snoring, sweaty toddler with whom I am currently sharing a nasty cold. His head is leaking fluids of various kinds onto my chest. There isn't a stitch of marabou to be found. OK, that paragraph took waaaay to long to type (must I really use words like "precariously?"), so I'm going to attempt a Sleeping Toddler Slide-Off Triple Axel. Please hold. *** Success! He's now dripping snot all over Jason's pillow. Outstanding. *** Anyway. I've been wanting to post a thank you and acknowledgment for all the kind thoughts and crossed fingers you guys left on this post, but since so many of you were all, "Oh, but your sense of humor will obviously GET YOU THROUGH THIS," I kept trying to hide the extent of my true depressive funkitude about THAT WHOLE THING. The Internet... Read more →


I hate going to the dentist. Oh, how I hate going to the dentist. I went for a cleaning last week and wriggled and twitched uncomfortably through the poking and the scraping, my tongue constantly and involuntarily getting in the way, while I fixated on the bulb of the overhead light, hoping that my dry burning eyeballs would distract me from what was going on in my mouth. The hygienist pulled out the polishing toothbrush and I cringed -- this was the worst part, I always thought. The WORST. And like every cleaning before, I realized that it wasn't -- that it actually barely bothered me at all. When I was very little, that vibrating doohickey made me cry. I had to be physically held down in the dentist chair for years. It made me scream and kick and flail and gag. One time I screamed so much I threw up all over myself -- just like Noah did after the nurse restrained his hand for all that time on Monday, squeezing out drops of blood after a completely painless finger prick. Just like Noah. If I order a sandwich, it cannot contain any of the following: lettuce, pickles, raw... Read more →

Paranoid Android

JASON: So. Anything interesting happen today? AMY: I spent the whole day dealing with shit. JASON: Ooh, was there some kind of Internet drama? AMY: No. Like actual, physical shit. I spent the whole day dealing with feces. JASON. Ooh, Noah? AMY: Well, yes. Noah kept saying he had to go apoopoo but wouldn't go on the potty and he wanted to watch the Potty Time With Elmo video 14 dozen times and then Max pooped in the office twice and Ceiba crapped on the stairs. JASON: Uh. AMY: Yeah. It was an enriching day. I do good work. *** I've been in a bit of a cranky funk this week and feeling immensely sorry for myself for no reason at all. Well, okay, unless you count this as a valid reason for funkitude: Of course, after cursing the coffee maker out for RISING AGAINST ME, FOR MAKING EVERYTHING WORSE, I realized I'd forgotten to put the inner plastic basket thing in before the filter and thus this was all my own fault but COME ON, I was still totally ready to cry about it. Or, you know, grab a straw and suck that shit up off the countertop. Same... Read more →

Number Two

This morning Noah and I played our game of Gimme Kisses. I tell him to gimme kisses, please. He shakes his head no, and then I swoop in for a kiss anyway, while making a big, exaggerated mmmmmmmmmmmmmMWA sound. Then he giggles. This morning I stopped playing after a few kisses. He started humming. "Mmmmmm." He reached up and put his hands on my cheeks and leaned in. "MWA!" he shrieked, covering my face with kisses. Then we both giggled. Yeah. I gotta get me another one of these. *** Two things I said I'd never do again: 1) Have another child. 2) Take Clomid. They went together pretty nicely, I thought. But like a lot things I swore I'd never do (suburbs! yard! skinny jeans! hotdogs for lunch!), I changed my mind about Number One. I want another baby. WE want another baby. The five of you who read the ClubMom blog know that Jason and I have been trying for awhile now. I don't know how long, exactly. Maybe since Noah's first birthday? Maybe even before that? I seem to remember using the BlogHer swag bag condom at some point, but honestly, we've never really used birth control... Read more →

Title Intentionally Left Blank

Quick. Somebody give me a topic to write about. I am too tired to think of one. I am so tired. I am so super extra goddamned tired. Noah and Jason are still laid up with really bad colds, which means everyone is cranky and...well, sort of crusty. The snot pours on, my friends. And then there's this. Heather is Noah's first and only babysitter. She is our friend. She is a member of our family. We would not have survived the past 18 months or so without her, and now she's moving away and I sort want to throw myself on the ground and wrap my arms around her ankles while wailing don't leeeeeave meeeeee, and then maybe lock her in our basement for awhile. And I mean that in the nicest and most non-creepy-murdery way possible. But I won't, because I'm happy for her and her awesome new job that will pay her more than I ever made at my old job, but WHATEVER, YOU WHORE. HAVE A NICE LIFE. (ALSO I SAVED THIS WEEK'S EPISODE OF HOUSE FOR YOU. DO YOU NEED ME TO SAVE AMERICA'S NEXT TOP MODEL TOO?) Anyway. I am still kind of blue... Read more →

The Mean Reds

It's not just me, right? There's definitely something going around. Something in the air, maybe. Or in the water. Or in the multiple cups of coffee I drink to function during the day because I can't sleep at night. Maybe it's that winter came back and ate spring and all the pretty little flowers that were blooming in my yard. Maybe it's because I even have a yard in the first place, and I miss our old condo and the cement and grit of the city. Maybe it's that Noah's nose has been leaking like a faucet for days now, that Jason's already sick and I'm trying not to even acknowledge the scratchy feeling in my throat. Maybe it's the terrible news at Virginia Tech and my inability to turn of effing CNN. I don't know. Maybe it's just all these Girl Scout cookies I've been eating. (Damn you, Tagalongs! Fill the void already!) Whatever it is, I don't think I'm the only one feeling this way. (Right? Right? That's your cue, commenty-type people. Hello? Fuck.) I'm sad. Anxious. Constantly on edge. I've been having nightmares. Stupid anxiety dreams mixed with full-on weird ones, like a recurring dream where I've... Read more →