Kristen over at Motherhood Uncensored has created a new meme. The point of the meme is to find a picture of your 80’s alter-ego. This one took a little thought, and a lot of picture searching.

So who am I? Well, I always wanted to be this:

But in reality I was more like this:

Yes, that’s Molly Ringwald in the Facts of Life.

I had enough TV to watch each week. I didn’t need another show to be hopelessly addicted to.

House M.D. on Fox has me hooked, though. After hearing so much about it from people we knew, Aaron and I watched an episode about a month ago. And now? Now I’m driving past cops at 75 mph so that I won’t miss much of tonight’s episode. I need help.

We had seriously cut back on TV when Cordy was born, mostly because we never had time to follow any storyline with a colicky baby. Slowly, I’ve allowed myself to form relationships with TV characters. I came back to Smallville after the strange and whacked-out season last year. I’ve had an on-again, off-again love with ER: it’s evolved into a take-it-or-leave-it relationship, where I can watch an episode out of sequence and be content if I miss the next one. I’ve finished the entire Sex and the City series, and feel no need to return to it, although I had a fabulous time with our hours together. American Idol has been here all along, too, hiding in the shadows as my deep dark secret. I love it, but I feel dirty for loving it.

Then along came Bones, a new show about a forensic anthropologist. Bet you never knew that forensic anthropologist was one of my chosen careers as a child, did you? Yep, right up there with marine biologist and astronaut. Bones is by far one of the best written shows on TV right now. Not only is there interesting science (no lowest common denominator here!), but the characters are complex and the banter is witty.

And now it’s House, a TV show about an egotistical doctor who has the worst bedside manner ever seen. He’s such a despicable character – why do I like him? I also have no idea what’s going on at times, because we started watching somewhere in the middle of season 2, and we have never seen season 1. What happened to his leg? What happened between him and the psychiatrist?

I really didn’t need another TV series. Now I’m even lusting after a Tivo, to make sure I never miss my favorite shows. Will it ever end? Am I a horrible person for spending so much time each week with my boob tube?

Fess up, people. What shows do you have a personal relationship with? And are they healthy relationships or are they spiraling out of control? Could you walk away if you had to?

After a week of dealing with a sick child, karma has rewarded me. Today I got to do something I haven’t done in a while. Something that I have been wanting to do, something I have been needing to do, and something that isn’t easy to do.

I went shopping, at the mall, sans baby and husband.

About two weeks ago my last work bra (yes, I have only one bra to wear to work) gave me its resignation notice via an exposed underwire poking me in the armpit. While I was hoping for two weeks notice, I found myself needing a new bra right away.

Today I finally got to shop for a new bra. For the past two weeks, I’ve endured the poking. I’ve pushed the wire back in, I’ve put duct tape over the hole in an attempt to hold it in, and sometimes I sat leaning to the left to spare my armpit the viscous jab of the wire. I simply haven’t had the time or the available babysitting to venture out for a new bra.

Bra buying takes time. First, you must try on a bra before buying it. It’s not something that you can pick off the rack and buy. Some aren’t sized properly. On some, the straps are too wide, others have the straps too narrow. Some have the underwire come up too far, some have far too much padding.

Men would never be able to handle wearing bras, because they’d never have the patience to try them all on.

Second, there are a gazillion different styles, all with their quirks, and all fitting just a little different. Demi cup? Full coverage? Padding? Front or back hook? Lace? Satin? Lace and satin? Halter strap? Strapless? Backless? Long line?

It’s not a wait that a toddler, even a patient toddler, can easily endure. And my little strong-willed monster darling certainly wouldn’t have the patience to sit through a marathon visit to the dressing room. I wouldn’t even be able to offer her fun colors – I’m simply looking for a neutral colored bra.

If Aaron came along, Cordy would naturally choose the moment I’m ready to try on bras to have a seismic meltdown with daddy and push him to the point of pressuring me to hurry up so we can leave. Too much stress.

Today the stars aligned, and Aaron found himself with an empty afternoon, so I took my chance and ran to the mall. Even though it’s snotsicle cold outside, I happily parked in the back of the crowded lot and walked into the mall, unburdened by a stroller, a diaper bag, or a tempestuous child.

Victoria’s Secret is my bra shop of choice. I hate how expensive they are, but they do generally last longer and fit better than anything I could find in JC Penney. I haven’t been in Victoria’s Secret in a long time, but at first glance it appeared that little has changed. Lots of pink everywhere. Lingerie I couldn’t even think of squeezing my behind into. Sales girls dressed in black wearing far too much makeup and far too pretty to make me feel comfortable.

However, they have taken a new sales direction since the last time I was in. I’m used to being asked if I need any help at first, telling them no, and continuing on my way in peace. Oh no, now that’s just not allowed. I was pestered all over the damn store: Have you seen our new bra? (Yes, it’s hard to miss here in the front of the store.) Here, take a shopping bag while you look around! (I’m just looking for a bra.) Can I measure you to see what size you are? (No thanks, I really don’t want you touching me there.) You really must try our new bra! (No, you really must leave me alone.) What can I help you find? (The exit? Someplace I won’t be bothered?)

After running the gauntlet of sales girls, I managed to snag four bras and hide in a dressing room. Yes, I did try the new bra, and I wasn’t impressed. I just wanted a bra like my old one. Of course, with the product changing entirely every 6 months, my bra was no longer made.

I found one bra similar to my old one (“It’s the new and improved version!” “What does it do? Wash itself?”) and was content. I considered buying two, but at $45 a bra, I decided I’m going to settle for one and work this one just as hard as the last one. The peppy girl at the register tried to persuade me to purchase something from their “Pink” line in order to get a free stuffed puppy, but I quickly informed her that I am a mommy, and do not want to see another stuffed animal in my house at this time.

Walking out into the mall general area again, I browsed a few stores before leaving. I saw several moms out shopping with their kids, many of whom were asleep in the stroller. I wanted to ask them what they drugged their kids with to make them sleep in the stroller, because Cordelia would never entertain the thought of sleeping while out and about.

In all, it was a successful outing, and one thing off my to-do list. Now if I can only find the time to get out for a facial and a massage. Maybe in another 6 months.

A Mamaku for my daughter’s cold that won’t go away:

After reading Wood’s post at Sweet Juniper, I was inspired to create a log of one day’s events. Here is an idea of a typical day for Cordelia and I on my days off. This was yesterday:

6:45 am – Aaron gets up, I barely notice as I roll over.

7:15 am – Cordy wakes up, starts talking in her crib. I fall back asleep.

7:40 am – Aaron fetches Cordy from her crib once she reaches the complaining stage. I again fall back asleep.

8:25 am – I wake up to a toddler in my face saying “Hi!” in her most cheery voice, as her daddy holds her over me. Get up, get dressed, go downstairs.

8:45am – Aaron leaves for work, as Cordy ignores his pleas for her to say “bye” to him. As soon as he closes the door and is gone, she turns to the door and says “Die die!” and waves.

9:00 am – I eat my morning bagel while sharing a quarter of it with Cordy, who already ate breakfast. Apparently it’s in the baby contract that the child is entitled to one quarter of all of my food. Wiggles are on TV, all is good with the world.

9:15 am – Finish eating, jump up and dance to Wiggle Groove, sending Cordy into waves of laughter.

9:30-10:30 am – Play with Cordy, attempt to pick up the disaster she leaves behind in each area of the living room.

10:30-11:15 am – Cordy plays by herself, I get some internet time. I am amused watching her attempt to jump, and blog about what I’m watching. Call friend Lisa and make plans for later in the day, if her son takes an early nap.

11:15 am – Cordy falls backwards and hits her head. Spend 10 minutes comforting her on her nth head injury of the week. Offer a banana – food serves as the perfect distraction.

11:30 am – Hear a loud chainsaw out back, followed by a loud noise out front. Look out back door and see that a tree is being cut down behind our next door neighbors. Look out front door to see giant chipper machine out front, turning branches into mulch. Say a little prayer that they aren’t here too long.

11:45-11:50 am – Chase the child around the downstairs (it’s a circular floor plan) for 4 laps before catching her to wipe her snotty nose. Decide to go ahead and change diaper while I have her pinned down.

12:00 pm – Pull up information on the internet for the vet to make an appt. for our kitten. Find number, but forget to call because I must jump up to prevent Cordy from grabbing my mostly full can of Diet Coke.

12:30 pm – First nap attempt. 6oz. of warm milk used to entice Cordy to fall asleep. Routine goes off without a hitch. Lay her down, close door, head back downstairs. As I hit the bottom step, I hear her give a big “Aiiii!” over the monitor. She then proceeds to talk happily to herself.

12:45 pm – Happy talk turning to whining. Chipper machine still loud and annoying. Secretly cursing the tree cutters.

12:50 pm – Nap aborted. Bring her back downstairs, make lunch. Play peek-a-boo with dishtowels.

1:10 pm – Cordy eats a PB&J sandwich while watching Wiggles. I eat the crusts of the bread.

1:25 pm – Do another 3 laps around the downstairs before tackling the child for another nose wipe. Tickle match ensues.

1:45 pm – Nap attempt #2. Crying begins right away when placed in crib. Chipper and chainsaws still going strong.

2:00 pm – Nap aborted. Bring her back downstairs.

2:00-2:30 pm – Watch Dora and laugh at the dumb king in the episode. Wonder who writes this stuff.

2:30 pm – After some serious eye-rubbing, put Cordy down for nap attempt #3. Chipper and chainsaw still going. Thoughts of throwing the workers into the chipper go through my mind. Cordy talks in her crib.

2:45 pm – All is quiet in Cordy’s room. Check e-mail, make PB&J for myself and eat it. Look forward to an hour or so relaxing.

3:15 pm – Just as I’m planning a trip to the bathroom, Cordy awakes with loud screaming. I’m certain the chipper woke her up. Now contemplate asking my senator to pass a law preventing loud noise during nap times. Bring Cordy downstairs.

3:20 pm – Use the bathroom with a grumpy toddler audience.

3:30 pm – Call friend Lisa to find out if her son is awake so we can go out together. Find out he took a late nap and just went to sleep. Damn. Guess I’m on my own.

3:40 pm – Change Cordy’s diaper. Begin chase around downstairs to put Cordy’s shoes and coat on. Pack diaper bag.

3:50 pm – Wrestle unwilling toddler into car seat. Leave for north end of Columbus.

4:20-4:45 pm – Stop at my office to take care of an issue for a student. Find out once there that it’s already taken care of. Cordy shows off for coworkers. Attempt to talk to one coworker about a complaint she made against me (to my supervisor without coming to me first), but Cordy melts down before I can begin the conversation. I decide it’ll have to wait for another day and leave.

4:45 pm – Drive to mall to get new shoes for Cordy.

5:00-5:30 pm – Chase Cordy around Stride Rite to try shoes on her. I discover that she is now wearing a size 5.5 double wide. Try not to think of the jokes that could be made of having double wide feet. Out of 8 pairs of shoes, only one pair fits her. (she has tall feet as well)

5:30 pm – Dash to the door to prevent Cordy from going outside with other people. Purchase only pair of shoes that fits her.

5:35-6:00 pm – Drive home, and get KFC on the way home.

6:00 pm – Get home, feed Cordy.

6:15 pm – Aaron arrives home.

6:15-6:45 pm – Aaron and I play with Cordy.

6:45 pm – Dress Cordy for bed, Aaron does nighttime ritual, Cordy goes to sleep with no problems. Chipper is gone, finally.

7:00-8:30 pm – Internet time for both of us. I eat some chocolate from Valentine’s Day.

8:30-11:00 pm – Knit. Aaron plays his online game with friends. Relax. Gather up trash

11:00pm-12:00 am – Watch Smallville.

12:00 am – Aaron and I go to bed, exhausted. We consider having sex, but decide that sleep sounds more appealing at the moment. There’s a storm coming through, and I cross my fingers and hope Cordy doesn’t wake up in the night.