When putting on a clean pair of sweatpants is considered victory.

I used to be a high heel-wearing, tequila-drinking, fishnet-rocking, mohawk-styling derby mama. And the sheer velocity with which I downshifted to parenting a newborn has given me whiplash. The night we got the call from Child Protective Services asking if we could take a placement in the morning, I was on the deck of a sushi bar cracking a third bottle of wine. We finished our sushi, toasted our new arrival and drove home. We got a ladder from the shed and went up to the attic, dragging out garbage bags of baby stuff and doing load after load of laundry. I crawled into bed at 2am, bleary eyed, for a few hours of sleep. Now, it's nothing like giving birth - I will give you that - but I can promise you I was a bit worse for the wear the next morning.

And then, suddenly, I was handed a 2 day old infant.

We have spent the last 4 weeks together, this beautiful child and I.....he asleep on my chest or wiggling in my arms or pooping on my couch, while I have struggled to get my bearings. It's been a while, and frankly there are a lot of things I can't remember about newborns. Because I have not had the benefit of 9 months to read every parenting book cover to cover so that I am fully aware of what to be expecting, I find myself with new questions and challenges every day.


The first thing I need to know is, how long after bringing home a newborn do you stop feeling like you have the flu? New parents, back me up here.... your body clock is all screwed up, you are always tired and disoriented, your eyes ache and your arms feel heavy and your back and neck are sore from sleeping in weird positions. You haven't eaten a regular meal with utensils since the new arrival, and the idea of wearing anything dressier than sweatpants is incredibly unappealing, if not impossible. Driving is ill-advised, but how else are you going to buy more diapers or find wipes that won't cause a rash or see another adult who wants to talk about something - anything - other than feedings and poop?

I wasn't expecting to be quite so tired - it was a total surprise. I always attributed new parent fatigue to birth and breastfeeding, but it turns out that you don't have to possess a functioning uterus to feel like you got hit by a truck while caring for a newborn. As a foster parent, I supposedly came into this role fresh as a daisy, rested and fed and watered and ready - and I am a total mess. I have been in a pair of ratty yoga pants and a tank top for four weeks straight. Embrace the post-partum, that's what I say. Even if you didn't have anything to do with the partum-ing.

But today I am taking control.
I am putting on a clean pair of sweatpants, and making myself a hot meal and eating it with a fork.

That's right. You heard me.
A fork.

I am totally rocking this parenting gig.

Social Media, I am your bitch

Yesterday, I got an invite in the mail from Pinterest.

And while a tiny part of my heart was saying "dammitalltohell" and felt kind of like this:

 a big huge part of me was all "WAHOOOOOOOOO":

And so I said to myself, "Let's do this thing." And I saddled up and bought the ticket and took the ride and ohmygodihaveaproblem. The problem being, I am never going to be able to get anything done.

Between twitter and my beloved facebook and this blog and 3 other blogs and trying to write a book, I spend all day every day in front of my computer talking to myself.

And we haven't even touched on "Words with Friends", which is sweeping the nation despite the fact that it allows you to play words that are not even words but not 'jew' because it's offensive- not even if you can put the 'j' on a triple letter score and combine it with 'be' and 'paw' and a triple word score and get like 70 bilion points using 3 tiles, and where I have no less than 10 games going at any one time. My phone dings constantly, alerting me to the fact that someone else is beating my ass by playing words like 'vanner' an- "DING" hang on, I need to get that. Shit, she put a Z on a triple word score that is like, 63 points - I might as well just resign now. Shitty shit.

Okay, where was I. Oh yes. Apparently, I am supposed to be building my brand and finding my voice and setting my tone and creating a dialogue. That is not happening. I am still at the very beginning stages of figuring out who I want to follow, and whether to retweet or quote, and why the mobile twitter app is so much better than the super-sucky desktop version of twitter, and whether enough people like me, and if I am posting so much it's really more like spamming and if so will people STOP liking me and if people like me why don't they retweet me and maybe it's because they, too, have the shitty desktop version of twitter but even so they could like me on the facebook and then share what I post, but they don't which means they don't *really* like me and THEN WHAT I ASK YOU THEN. WHAT.
(and yes, of course I have issues. Sweet Jesus Mary and Joseph of course I do.)

"DING!" Oh my god I am never going to get anything done ever, hang on I have to just check this and.....fuck me sideways she beat me again?! This is not even fun anymore.

But as I was saying, the thing that blows my mind is that there is more! How could there possibly be more? WHO HAS THE TIME? Even with this - even with ALL OF THIS - I want to pin people? Or things? Or people and their things? Or things people pin? Does this have anything to do with going steady? I have no idea. I don't have the slightest fucking clue.

"DING!" Oh my god this game is horrifying, it completely defies logic. I don't even understand how I could have 4 'i's - how can there be so many, and why do I have ALL OF THEM.

All I do know is that I have spent almost 3 hours on the computer and phone today, and have not gotten a single thing accomplished other than quizzing a lovely but completely ineffectual service rep at Bank of America about why they suck so hard (which actually, now that I think about it, was very empowering) and stalking a friend's facebook page to see if his wife had that baby yet, and cruising etsy.com with my hand in my pants like the craft porn that it is.

"DING!"
And playing Words With Friends. Of course. Lest we forget.