A very nice large-breasted woman has loaned me some shirts; I've solved the crisis of overwhelming parents; and I'm resolved to wear a ponytail for the next three weeks. Perspective is IN.

The new year is almost here; I'd say 2004 was pretty good to me.

I'm sick of flaky bitches.

The world nearly ended yesterday when my hairdresser couldn't keep my appointment. I need some of this hair GONE. Before Monday. And fuck you if you think all girls need long hair. How 'bout you wash and dry it, then tell me how hot it is. It's just part of some weird guy fantasy about Brooke Shields and getting spanked.

I'm keeping it long though.

Generally, you shouldn't post when your mood is crap. Yeah, I get it.

I'd like a tall glass of whiskey, but I'll have none of it. I can contribute most of this mood to the inevitable Monday approaching.

Can I get a shirt that fits, please? Thank you. And who are you?

OUCH: The last Monday and shots (of the non-alcoholic variety)

Today was my last Monday at home with Ryder. I don't want to write about it because I don't want to think about it ... but I can't help the thinking, so here I am writing.

I suppose it's both good and bad that my final weeks have been holiday-filled; they've been busy and involved and that's preparing me for leaving the house on a regular basis again. Preparing, yes, though I assume the life of a working mother can hardly be prepared for entirely.

Ryder got his two-month shots today. I had to leave the room. Fortunately Brian was able to make the appointment so that he could attend to our boy during the injections. Watching him hurt hurts.

On a happier note, we had a great first Christmas. You know it classifies as the first in more than one way. I received many nice gifts, but nothing could make me as happy as my husband and our little boy. Gush, mush.

Hope you had a happy holiday ... the new year approaches with vigor.

We saw Closer this evening, and I really liked it. I was expecting it to be depressing but did not find it to be so at all.

I wasn't expecting the two movies we saw before this (Finding Neverland and Alfie ) to be depressing, and they were.

So, what does that tell you about expectations?

And another thing, my mother is a saint disguised as a babysitter. Short notice does not bother her in the least.

Merry Christmas Eve.

Babies make you mushy.

I'm coming to terms with the fact that I'll probably never retire if I keep buying things for Ryder every time I leave the house. And I'm not talking about things he NEEDS.

Somehow, I don't think he needed the Skechers I bought him today. But they're so freakin' cute, these little, tiny shoes.

They're almost as cute as the t-shirt his Auntie bought him -- the t-shirt I LOVE and would have caught hell for by Brian had I purchased it. In his eyes, it might as well read "Native Texan" or "Mommy's a Hick."

He often reminds me that my lil cowboy is half Yankee. So since the shirt was a gift, it's just that much cooler.

Well shoot, who can blame them?

Parents get really freaky when they become grandparents.

It's one of the things I did not anticipate after the baby's arrival. I mean, some things, some changes, I was expecting, but I did not expect the parents to get so bizarre.

Sometimes I feel like I'm suffocating, and it has nothing to do with Ryder and everything to do with the battle for time with baby. The demands are getting to me a bit. They're all poking me on the shoulder while saying, "I'm not touching you."

I'm glad they're excited, but I wish they'd calm down already.

In case you wonder who he looks like.

Yeah, that's me at six weeks old.

Santa bores him.

I've done more in the past three days, outside of the house, than I've done in weeks.

On Friday, I had my six-week post-partum visit with the doc. They weighed me, of course, and I've got about 12 more pounds to lose to reach my start weight. That's not to say my old clothes will fit. My body is shaped a bit differently now, particularly my bust, which will stay large as long as I'm nursing. This does not please me, despite popular belief that all chicks want big tits.

After the appointment Friday, I paid a visit to my old office and Ryder got to meet some ex-colleagues who'd been anxious to see him.

Saturday, we went to a grown-up party. When I pointed out that it was indeed a grown-up party, Brian asked why we were there. At 10:30 p.m., I was ready to pick up baby and go home. Still, I'm glad we went.

Today after lunch with family, we took Ryder to have his picture made with Santa. After some prompting from my photog friend, a family pic with the big guy was also captured.

And honestly, NOTHING will make you feel older than ordering holiday family photo cards. Seriously. Not even grown-up parties.

The funny thing is, I really like those silly cards.

While I'm not fool enough to post the family picture here, I can't resist sharing one of Ryder.

Happy holidays! 12 days and five minutes until Christmas.

UPDATE: I wrote this Sunday night but am just now posting today (Monday). For some reason, I'm having a problem uploading photos, too.

Getting out of the house is nice, very nice. My dad was kind enough to visit this a.m. so that I could get out and do MORE shopping. In addition, I had to turn in the paperwork and enrollment deposit Ryder's daycare requires.

I've once again proven myself a master of efficiency and did the above, plus dropped off fabric for his scrapbook with mom, filled the car with gas, and stopped by the bank -- all in about two hours.

I really like the daycare we've selected for Ryder, but everytime I'm there, I want to cry. I just hate the idea of having to leave him with non-family folks. The good news is that I'm off until after the first of the year, so there's still some time to be enjoyed.

Ryder will be pleased to learn that of the nine total babies in his nursery, there's only one other baby boy. That's seven hotties for him to scope out and only one means of competition. :)

Clearly, I am beginning to lose my mind. I requested my husband purchase beef stew on his most recent trip to the grocery store. I am now eating it for breakfast.

I'm curious as to why he purchased Dinty Moore brand (I think I used to get AusTex or something). Anyway, Dinty Moore isn't bad -- as far as canned beef stew goes. On the other hand, it's kind of gross.

Today is Brian's birthday! We had presents this morning before he left for work.

Today, I really, really didn't want him to leave.

I'm getting cabin fever. FEVER -- In the morning, fever all through the night ...

Clearly, I have lost my mind.

Posts have been infrequent and rather short lately. You know why.

Saturday was a glorious day. B had some weekend office work, so I took Ryder to my mom's while I attended to a little Christmas shopping. I got a lot done; it's amazing how efficient one can be when one's time is so limited.

I left mom with a couple of bottles (of BREAST milk, as my dad likes to say -- he refuses to call it simply "milk"), hit the stores, then returned to nurse. Then left Ryder again, headed home to shower (ALONE, without a babe in a bouncy seat in the bathroom with me) and get ready for a birthday dinner date with my husband. His birthday is Tuesday, so we celebrated at Daddy Jack's** Saturday night.

It was our first official night outing since Ryder arrived, and we had a lovely time, but I was eager to pick up the bambino by 9:30 p.m.

I only wish my black pants hadn't been quite so tight.

There are PRESENTS under our Christmas tree.

** Brian just pointed out that we went to DADDY Jack's for his birthday. Get it?

I made a really wise decision when I decided to set up the breast pump in the office, near the computer. Now I can be productive while on the Internet.