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The baby woke up at 5 a.m., crying about something. Do kids have nightmares at this age? I should have just let him go back to sleep on his own but I felt bad. I spent almost 45 minutes in the rocking chair with him and when I realized that he wasn't going back to sleep via that method I offered him a cuddle with me and the boyfriend in our bed. Well, that only woke him up more. Plus my mom, The Snooze Button Queen, encouraged his early rising by allowing her loud-ass alarm to go off about 6 times. Around 6 a.m., I figured that we might as well get up and go about our business and hopefully take an early nap. Of course, I didn't go to sleep until about 3 because I was watching O (barf) and the baby didn't go to sleep until around 11:30, which is really late for him. That might be part of the problem…an upset in his routine. Right now he's just sitting under my desk looking kind of dazed. My sleep-deprived plan is to keep him awake for as long as I can and then let him take an early nap. I don't know. Nevermind, he's passed out.
fart.
He must be excited since he's met so many new people over the past two days. Last night, stopped by with Shanley in tow to drop off some CDs for me to peddle. The baby was being shy but kept pointing out the moon to keep them entertained. The night before that stopped by with and her son. The baby really got a kick out of having a playmate for a few hours and it was really nice for me to be able to talk to a mom who's my age. I get to feeling pretty isolated sometimes so all around, a great playdate.

And now, musical tidbits after an hour or so of the MTV/VH1 channels last night.

Robert Randolph and the Family Band: I'm intrigued. Need to hear more.
Beyonce and Jay-Z: chill out.
Pharell Williams: also needs to chill out and put his shirt on. I guess he's kind of attractive but the fact that they're trying to market him as a sex symbol and that girls are falling all over themselves for him baffles me a bit. You're a producer, man. Would Timbaland pull that crap?
Good Charlotte: Oh my god, if someone doesn't kill these kids soon I'm going to scream.
Sarai: I don't know. I'm going to be reviewing her for Pulp soon and I just can't tell from that one video if she's taking herself seriously. I'm a bit confused by a white chick from upstate New York who pronounces “shirt” as “shurrt.” You're not Nelly. It's okay.
Jewel: Uh, yeah, I guess the impending Big 3-0 is making Jewel a little nervous. Apart from the musical 180 (although it really couldn't get any worse than her last few folky albums), her general behavior reeks of Mariah Carey. Remember when Mariah and Tommy Mottola broke up and Mariah got all, “I'm free! I can dress and act ridiculously and unleash my inner ho!”? Something similar is going on with Jewel. The wet tshirt and alluring gazes in her new video make me uncomfortable. Not that she wasn't quite attractive to the mens and girls before (despite the teeth), but now that she's just coming right out and selling it…I don't know. Also, why does she pronounce “intuition” as “intui-shawn?” It sounds exactly like how Alicia Bridges pronouned “action” in “I Love the Nightlife.” Grates on my nerves.

Well, I should probably take this opportunity to get some work done but I'm so friggin' tired I don't think I can.

So, my email is down. I'm not sure what the problem is. As a result, I haven't received any email alerts for any comments that anyone may have left. I checked a little, though. Uhhh, my brain's not really functioning.

Why can't people just leave me alone?

Meatsky (3:46:30 PM): frankly kelly, i find it hard to beleive that your relationship is nearly as egalitarian as you make it out to be. At least not as egalitarian it should be. and i'm far from the only person to think so. Interesting i'm virtually the only person to ever defend you, and your relationship with tom. I understand that these sorts things are about a certain give and take, at the same time, there appears to be a certain level of disequaliberim in who gets what they want and need.
Meatsky (3:46:47 PM): Now of course i'm very much an outside observer
Meatsky (3:47:05 PM): which leads back to when i said it is your life, and your smart, so you need to do what you think is right.
Meatsky (3:47:16 PM): for you
whimpysmom (3:48:15 PM): you, and whoever else is “concerned” about my relationship and family, seem to be basing your conclusions on very little observation and evidence.
Meatsky (3:48:57 PM): and part of my feeling are based on my dealings with and preceptions of tom…I've know him for a long time…and well that means i have a certain bias in thinking that he's taking anybodies eles needs into consideration
whimpysmom (3:51:37 PM): yes, and people are static and never change nor learn from their experiences. particularly not tom. and since i've had the wool pulled over my eyes by men in the past i'm sure it would come to no surprise to anyone that it would happen again this time. certainly, this latest episode of tom not facilitating my acceptance of a part time job, since tom does rule over me with an iron fist, only serves to prove your point
whimpysmom (3:53:10 PM): and i'm sure i would love to hear advice from a group of people who have had such mature and pleasant, egalitarian relationships. especially since so many of you have children
whimpysmom (3:54:43 PM): i would also love to read your field notes, since all of you are here so much, helping with day to day activities. since my relationship and parenthood is so unbalanced, you're all so quick to come to my aid instead of just standing off to the side and making judgments
whimpysmom (3:55:43 PM): i'm sure there have been many lovely quilting bees in your apartment, facilitated by cheap beer and cable tv, about how my life must be such a huge disappointment.
whimpysmom (3:56:06 PM): i must have missed them, though. or perhaps i was off being the village idiot
whimpysmom (3:56:41 PM): because surely you all would have called me to let me such an important meeting was taking place
whimpysmom (3:57:33 PM): but i'm glad that i've been so busy being tom's bitch and a neglected mother so that the lot of you had plenty of time to discuss my situation.
whimpysmom (3:58:06 PM): now, if you'll excuse me, i have to go set the women's movement back about 50 years by doing laundry. fight the power.

My Sunday was pretty interesting. One of my old ballet teachers, Nadia, is in town for the summer. She's such a character. She's got to be in her late 70s and despite some nasty arthritis she's got to be one of the feistiest old broads that I've ever met. She is originally from Russia and spent most of her life there, but once Communism ended she started travelling all over the place and teaching ballet in schools in America and Europe. She started teaching at PBT when I was about 14 and ended up staying with my grandparents for a few weeks while she was finding a place to live. We've remained close and I am better friends with her now that I don't have to take her thigh-busting, back-breaking, militant Vaganova ballet classes. Anyway, yesterday she wanted to go and visit my grandmother since she hadn't seen her since she's been injured. We stopped at a Giant Eagle so that Nadia could buy my grandmother a get well bouquet and I knew she was going to ask me a bunch of questions about my life once we had a few minutes alone.
I was right.
While walking up to the store she says to me in her thick Russian, “Kelschka, you beautiful face, intelligent girl, face like Renaissance painting, like Leonardo da Vinci. But why this?” and pointed to my nosering. I didn't really get a chance to answer because she went on, “Look like black people from Stone Age.” Okaaay. Moving on.

“Kelschka, boyfriend good. Good face. Good character. Good papa. Why no marry?”
“Well, we don't really have any money right now.”
“So? Good girl, good boy, beautiful baby. Marry! Marry!”
“Um, he doesn't have the money to buy me a ring yet.”
“Oh. Okay…But boyfriend good. Must keep.”
Got it.

Last night the boyfriend, Akil and I went to see American Wedding which was, you know, silly. I want to find out the name of the hotel where they had their wedding. It was insanely gorgeous.
After the movie something weird happened. On the car on the way home, the boyfriend and Akil started talking about their weddings and making all of these plans about who would be their best men and where they would have them, who would DJ, stuff like that. The boyfriend had like four or five possibilities for best man but I only really have one or two. He also has about 20 guys that he wants for groomsmen while I was wracking my brain trying to think of possible bridesmaids. But it was just generally weird because their incessant wedding planning was such a girly thing to do. I don't know. I'm such a guy.

I have shit to do.

I had a really horrible dream last night. The boyfriend, the baby and I were living in some house, not ours in real life, but ours in the dream. It was a really picture perfect Victorian house with a wraparound porch, not unlike one that I'd like to own someday. Somehow we received the news that a nuclear bomb was headed our way, poised to annihilate all of North America. We panicked for a second but accepted the situation. We went out to the porch and sat on a bench with the baby between us. We just said our “I love yous,” held each other tight, and waited in silence. In the dream I could see the light on our faces getting brighter as the explosion came closer. The baby closed his eyes and the boyfriend and I turned in toward him to hold him tighter. We hugged each other and I could hear this deafening silence getting closer. Then I woke up. I had this dream probably around five this morning. I was all distraught but didn't want to wake anyone up. I keep playing that last little bit over in my head and it keeps upsetting me on so many levels. I hate nightmares.

1. What time do you wake up on weekday mornings?

Between 8 and 9 a.m.

2. Do you sleep in on the weekends? How late?

Nope.

3. Aside from waking up, what is the first thing you do in the morning?

Get the baby out of his crib and change his diaper.

4. How long does it take to get ready for your day?

All day.

5. When possible, what is your favorite place to go for breakfast?

Pamela's. Yum.

A little while ago I finally got a call from the guy at the PG. The article will be published! I have to expand some stuff but other than that it's a go. I'm so so relieved.

I emailed this girl about a magazine that she's starting. It sounds kind of fluffy but I figured, “Why not? A writer writes or some shit.” Her response was kind of disappointing:

Hey! Thanks for the email. Your articles look good. I could really use
someone that has good writing skills! To tell you about me, I just graduated
from Kent State (Ohio) in December majored in Visual Jourmalism, Information
Design and now work at a newspape doing page layout/ copy editing in
Zanesville. It's about 2 hours west of Pbgh. I was just in Pbgh last night
at the BBT to watch my girl spin. I'm sure you know [here she namedrops a girl who I can't STAND].
Anyways, here's what we are doing, if you would like to help out, that would
be great. Also, could you please send a pic to contactbassline@hotmail.com
ASAP. We want all of our contributing peeps to be in the mag also!

Things that irritate me:
She's a copy editor and this email is riddled with grammatical and spelling errors. Yes, I know it's “just email” but I made sure that mine was professional and clean since this is an actual publication that is being discussed. Can I have her job?
She abbreviates Pittsburgh as “Pbgh.” That's just dumb.
I can't stand her “homegirl” and she's all over the magazine. Tricia, I think you know who I'm talking about.
She called me a contributing peep.

I just had to get that out of my system. I'm making this entry a rare “Friends Only” since I don't want to burn any bridges.

Wednesday, August 13th, 9 a.m. at the New Kensington Driver's License Center.
Kelly Delaney will make her second attempt at attaining her driver's license. It will be a perilous journey, frought with parallel parking obstacles, disgruntled DMV employees, and nerves frazzled beyond repair as Kelly Delaney, Old Hag Who Can't Drive, braves the road in her mother's trusty Honda Civic.
Kelly's previous attempt ended in heartbreaking failure. After suffering a massive brain fart and forgetting how to turn on the headlights, she was instructed to go to the parallel parking section of the test. Kelly had parked marvelously well in her lesson the previous week, but she was not sure how well she would perform under pressure. She soon found out. As she pulled up to the yellow markers her heart started beating extraordinarly fast. The proctor, his polyester pants pulled tightly against his expanding beer belly, stared over the rims of his glasses and sighed. A series of sloppy reverses, bumps, and cuss words later, Kelly was finished. The test lasted a little under five minutes. Despite her determination to remain graceful under pressure, Kelly burst into tears in the middle of center and went “waaahhhh!” all the way home.
Tune in to see the exciting conclusion…

You're me! Hope you like doing laundry…

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