ryro and me 

Bridgie's 20th birthday...about to fly away 

two fake criers 

happy lunch time 

clasping his hands 

pretty boy 

fat rolls! 

happy boy 

kicking back in his undies, watching baby einstein 

swinging and pissed off 

at the park 

grabbing for daddy 

if you don't believe that i love you...

Ben, there is a bookshelf in your room. A pretty but precarious bookshelf that threatened to tip over on you whenever you were near it. There are earthquakes here in California, and you are learning to propel yourself forward, so for the last week, I'd been meaning to install this furniture anchor onto your bookshelf. It started with the screws. The screws wouldn't fit through the brackets. The drill kept coming unplugged. I put the brackets at the wrong height on the bookshelf. You bounced in your Exersaucer and laughed at me. Your bookshelf is apparently made of titanium and not wood, and I couldn't get the screw to penetrate it, so the brackets and screws kept flying across the room. After screaming, "If I had a gun right now, I'd shoot myself" and "Nothing in this world should be this hard," Ryan scooped you up and took you into the other room, away from your crazy mother. After seriously considering the statistical likelihood that the bookshelf wouldn't tip over on you, I finally decided that I love you too much to risk it. After a half-hour of pure hell, I got the damn thing installed. So you are safe. And I love you. And this proves it.

I remember when I was little, I used to wonder what my dad's problem was when he yelled when he couldn't assemble or install something. Dad, I totally understand now. And I totally get why you had to knock a couple of cold ones back when you finally finished the job.

i got an interview...now what do i do?!

After receiving a discouraging email from my superior at the college where I teach, an email which basically implied that a person with a degree in creative writing will never get full-time teaching work at this particular college, I grew angry and began looking for another job. I wanted a job where people appreciated me, where I got benefits, where I would have some upward mobility. I stumbled upon a position at the University of Redlands as the Assitant Director of Academic Support Services. I would basically hire tutors, help students with their academic goals, counsel and give workshops. So I'd still get to work with students, but I'd get paid more and be able to, say, get new glasses or a cleaning at the dentist. I could probably pay my rent and my student loans and my car off. I applied in May and the position was announced in March, so I figured it was a long shot. Then yesterday, I received a call from the U of R. They asked me if I wanted to interview. When I said yes, relieved, the person on the other end of the line said, "Oh, good. You didn't find another job yet." I was confused and delighted--she sounded as though she was genuinely interested in me. At my college, they act like I'm lucky just to have leftover adjunct positions.

So now I have an interview. And if I nail it, I probably have a job. A full-time job. That starts on July 1. HOLY SHIT.

Am I ready to be a full-time worker? Am I ready to leave Ben at daycare? Am I ready to miss his every breath and sound and movement? Am I ready to work 40+ hours a week again?

why tom cruise is so creepy

Nearly a year ago, when I was still pregnant, Tom Cruise visited me in the night. In this horrible nightmare, I woke to find him jumping out of my closet wearing a black leather jacket and laughing that maniacal laugh of his. He grabbed me by the shoulders and screamed in my face, "Congratulations!! You just won two tickets to my premiere!" This might be some girls' dream, but I woke in a cold sweat. My heart was beating; my blood was racing through my veins. I shook Ryan and made him reassure me that Tom Cruise was not, in fact, in my closet. It took me a long, long while to fall asleep. I'd forgotten all about the dream until Hollywood recently plastered him all over all forms of media--magazines, news, t.v.--and now that night has come back to me, and, with it, all the terrifying memories.

Why is Tom Cruise so creepy? Is it that crazy, crazy laugh? His tireless search for adventure? The way he pumped his fists and jumped on Oprah's couch last week, declaring his love for the girl he's dated for one week? What person in his right mind jumps on Oprah's couch? If it had been a regular guest and not an actor, Oprah would have had him thrown out on his ass. Maybe the thing that bugs me the most about Tom Cruise is that he criticizes women for taking antidepressants for post partum depression. I never had to take any, but I felt like I was damn close for a while. And all I know is that once Tom Cruise squeezes a human being out of an orifice of his body, lets this human being eat from his breasts on an hourly basis for months AND, finally, gets an M.D. from an accredited medical school, then, and only then, will he qualify as an expert on such matters.

tom cruise is the creepiest motherfucker i've ever encountered. 

the most handsome boy ever invented 

happy man 

me and ben whooping it up 

post-party relief