Bang, Bang, Bang, on My Wall, Baby

I am sitting here listening to the most obnoxious hammering. I am also bitching about it on Twitter. But, in case you missed that, let it be known: my neighbor is hammering.

By some miracle, Charlotte hasn't called for me. Might I dare to hope she is sleeping through it this time? When the hammering first started, I had just put her down for a nap, and she cried for me instantly, telling me that it was scary and asking to go downstairs. I complied, gave her something to eat, and only attempted another go at the nap when I was sure the hammering had stopped. Well, I guess my neighbor was just taking a coffee break, because the hammering has resumed with a vengeance. I mean, the walls are shaking. Whatever is going on over there, it's intense. Maybe he or she is building an ark, in which case, I can't complain. It's God's work!

I'm still happy with the move. The location just works better for us in so many ways. But, it's been five months, and I'm still having a hard time getting used to the many noises of apartment living. I get really tense and have to remind myself to breathe with every barking dog, every honking horn, every blaring radio. I'm pretty tightly wound as it is, but when Charlotte is sleeping, I NEED her to stay asleep. Especially after day like yesterday. So, threaten that, and I won't like you very much. I won't DO anything about it. But, I will curse you in my thoughts. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Actually, I did take some action last week, and I've been hiding from my neighbor (not Hammery Joe, a different one) ever since. There was a slight altercation over the fact that he was playing handball with his kids at, like, 11 P.M.right outside everyone's bedroom windows. Why his kids are up that late playing handball on a school night is not my business, but the incessant banging and shouting, is. I had already told him the previous week that it was too loud, and that my daughter was sleeping. So, he was basically just being an asshole. Which, he continued to do throughout our conversation. He questioned whether or not it was really disruptive, and then asked if I just waited around for them to start so I could bust them. I'm sure his kids will grow up to be responsible and respectful citizens with a dad like that.

I know, I know. I sound like an old lady. But, Charlotte is just not someone you want to know when she's cranky. Plus, I just hate rude people. So, maybe I am an old lady.

Well, the hammering is slowly coming to an end, and Charlotte is still sleeping. I think I'll go enjoy the calm before the storm that is brewing in that crib up there, wakes up.

We Don't Take Our Clothes Off at the Park

See, now I remember why I never blogged. This toddler thing is killing me. We're on, what, day five? Five! And I already feel burnt out. Oh, suck it up, you big baby. Now, I'm talking to myself. Great.

I guess it's just felt like a long day. Up at 6:30, a trip to the park (Okay, this is sounding leisurely, Megan. Try harder...), tearing my kitchen apart to make some pumpkin gnocchi, which turned out only so-so, and blah, blah, blah.

Okay, it was a perfectly fine day. I'm just tired because I didn't get enough sleep. And whose fault is that? Mine!

Be that as it may, I'm pretty beat. Certainly too tired to write a proper post, so here is a list of random things that happened today. Hey, no complaining. You get what you get:

1. On the way to the restrooms at the park, Charlotte spotted a man on a tractor. "Tractor!" she yelled as she approached the maintenance shed in which Tractor Man was having a conversation with another man. They realized they were being watched by a creepy toddler voyeur and stopped talking. "Sorry, she just wants to see the tractor." "Oh, that's okay. Hi! I bet you just want a ride on the tractor, huh?" And this is when Charlotte looked directly at him and pulled her shirt up over her head. Was that a "no"? I couldn't say.

2. I ate two lunches. I sort of didn't realize I was doing it until I was mid-burger. Then I just went with it. The two frozen Reeses were just a bonus.

3. Charlotte and I were watching a little "Beauty and the Beast" this morning to take the sting out of the early morning blues. She called the Beast a lion and Belle, Allison. That's my sister. Yeah, she's pretty enough to be mistaken for Belle and vice versa.

4. I daydreamed about going across the parking lot and punching one of my neighbors in the face. I hate that guy. Actually, this is more of an ongoing thing than a recent event.

5. I left my new commuter mug that was pretty and green and made out of recycled plastic, at the park. I didn't realize it until we pulled into the garage, and it was too late to go get it because if I didn't put Charlotte down for a nap right then? Apocalypse. Now, I'm sad and will have to drink my coffee out of my hands, like a crazy person. Or maybe I'll replace it with one of those beer hats! Things are looking up!

That's all for tonight, folks. Tune in tomorrow for an explanation of how Charlotte's verbal exuberance is getting in the way of my good time.

Fess Up Friday!

I realize I haven't done this in a while; in fact, I've sort of fallen off the blogging wagon completely, but I'm trying to get back on track.

So, what do I have to confess? Well, remember how desperate I was to wean? I haven't done it yet. I've hardly tried. It just seems so impossible sometimes, and some nights it doesn't seem necessary, while other nights it seems like the most imperative thing ever that she be weaned right NOW. What exactly am I confessing? I'm not sure. That I'm lazy? Indecisive? Have no follow-through? I guess all of the above.

My next confession is noise related. Ever since we moved into the apartment, I've been on edge about the increase in noise outside Charlotte's window when she's sleeping or being put down for a nap or bed. We went from living in a house sandwiched between two little, old ladies, to living in an apartment complex with tons of people, their dogs, their visiting friends, their ridiculously loud children...

I get so annoyed when the kids are playing in the parking lot (I know, sad), and they're screaming past eight o'clock. My blood pressure goes up when the little, yappy dogs start up while I'm placing Charlotte in her crib for the night. And, I get SUPER pissed when some douche bags start talking about break dancing outside our windows at 1 A.M. I turn into this crochety old lady, mumbling to myself about how those damn kids need to go back to school, how I wish those dogs would run away (Oh, I'm kidding. Settle down, crazy dog lovers), and how I should go out there and give those wippersnappers a piece of my mind!

This irritability makes me a little uncool and uptight, but it also makes me a hypocrite. Because thinking back over my early and mid-twenties, I realize that I have been a total jerk about noise. I've had noise complaints lodged against my friends and me when we've moved a party from the bar to a hotel room in the wee hours of the morning. I've had karaoke parties at my house that those poor little, old ladies on either side of me were unfortunately privy to. And, I'm sure I've talked outside many windows at 1 A.M., though, hopefully not about break dancing.

I've always been a people pleaser, and I usually try to be polite and respectful. But, what can I say? Alcohol can make even the most decent of people total assholes. I try to keep these past transgressions in mind when I start to daydream about pummeling some noisy people's faces. I guess I had it coming to me. If I believed in karma, I would, indeed, be calling her a bitch.

And, finally, I have to confess that I am really struggling with the t.v. thing. I try really hard to limit the amount that Charlotte watches. I've even tried cutting it out altogether, but that is just a joke. I don't know what's wrong with me. I mean, I don't sit her in front of the television for hours, or even half an hour. But, I know the fifteen minute sessions add up. We're working on getting her to play by herself more, but she's just so damn clingy lately that I seriously can't pour myself a cup of coffee without her grabbing my leg and crying. So, yeah, I try to distract her with some Elmo when all else fails.

That's not even the worst part. The worst part is that she LIKES t.v. She ASKS to watch it. We usually don't comply, but, sometimes we do. And I feel like crap every time we do.

Speaking of which, I should stop writing and go collect Charlotte. She's in Grouchland with Elmo as we speak.

Oh, and don't forget to go visit Brooke. She IS the Fess Up Friday host, after all! This week she's talking about discipline.