How appropriate that my blog post immediately following my ode to Moose Munch is one about losing weight! Who ate too much crap this holiday season? *Waving hand wildly* Me me me! I did! Then I ended up on film (it's a hazard of having a cute kid - people are always taking photos and sometimes you just aren't quick enough to get out of the shot) and I'm really not digging this doughy white blobbish look I've got going on. Not digging it at all.
How I wish with all my little heart that I could subsist off cigarettes, Diet Coke and air like the supermodels do. For one thing though, I absolutely cannot do so. I need food. That you chew. That tastes good. And I can't smoke because I have asthma. So that idea is out. Bulimia is a no go too, because I really hate to barf. Surgery? Nah. Again, I don't like barfing - and I like pain even less. How about diet drugs, you may ask? And how do YOU like greasy farts and holes in your heart, I ask? (Hey, that rhymed! We could make a song!)
Anyway, so this leaves me back where I always end up when contemplating this issue: I need to eat less. And get off my fat butt more often. Aw, hell.
It's such a cliche' to make losing weight your New Year's resolution though. Boring! Let's call it de-blobbing. Or maybe un-doughy-nessing? Photogenic-making? I'm open to suggestions - name my resolution!
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Ode to Moose Munch
Harry & David make a delightful thing called Moose Munch.
Some wonderful, sweet client at the animal hospital where I work brought some to us for the holidays. I love it. I love them. I love everybody. Chocolate and caramel can have that effect on me.
I went to their website, ya know, to stock up in case there's a food shortage like Glenn Beck says. As long as I have plenty of this stuff, I'm pretty sure I could handle going off the grid. While other people are eating mystery meat from a can and dirt or whatever GB says we'll be reduced to, I'll be in Moose Munch heaven.
And then I saw it... They make Moose Munch Cheesecake. Oh. My. God. That would cover, like, all of my important food groups - protein (nuts), carbs (caramel), dairy (cheesecake) and of course, CHOCOLATE. I was so all over it til I saw it costs $30.
I love Moose Munch, and I love cheesecake, but I have limits. Clearly not healthy eating sorts of limits - but financial limits I do have (mostly because we're brrrrroke, not because I have any great self-control). Oh well.
Some wonderful, sweet client at the animal hospital where I work brought some to us for the holidays. I love it. I love them. I love everybody. Chocolate and caramel can have that effect on me.
I went to their website, ya know, to stock up in case there's a food shortage like Glenn Beck says. As long as I have plenty of this stuff, I'm pretty sure I could handle going off the grid. While other people are eating mystery meat from a can and dirt or whatever GB says we'll be reduced to, I'll be in Moose Munch heaven.
And then I saw it... They make Moose Munch Cheesecake. Oh. My. God. That would cover, like, all of my important food groups - protein (nuts), carbs (caramel), dairy (cheesecake) and of course, CHOCOLATE. I was so all over it til I saw it costs $30.
I love Moose Munch, and I love cheesecake, but I have limits. Clearly not healthy eating sorts of limits - but financial limits I do have (mostly because we're brrrrroke, not because I have any great self-control). Oh well.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Going...Going...Gone!
My mind, that is.
There are so many things to do. So many. I try to prioritize, but almost all of them are pretty important. And I absolutely do not know how to ask for help. Did you ever see that movie with Sandra Bullock, 28 Days? She's in rehab, ends up on crutches from a failed escape attempt and the therapist makes her wear a sign around her neck that says something like, "Ask me if I need help." Okay, so it took a long time to get to the point, but the point is - that could be me. Minus the drinking problem - though some days I think it might be helpful if I developed one of those.
The hub is sick. He works retail and it's the week of Christmas, so the timing is really bad. He's allergic to something - maybe dust mites, maybe just life in general - and he's been breaking out in hives and having a hell of a time breathing. He's been seeing an allergist who put him on massive doses of steroids, along with a cocktail of other drugs. The hives are better. The asthma is too, but only slightly. He's pretty miserable. And, being "organizationally challenged", he can't keep track of all these meds by himself. So, I've been trying to do it for him. And worrying about him. And doing everything else around here because he's pretty much incapacitated after he struggles through the day at work.
Then there's the whole breastfeeding thing. I'm determined to make it to at least a year breastfeeding the Bean. When I get determined to do something, anyone who knows me will tell you it takes... Well, I'm too damn tired to come up with a snappy metaphor right now, but suffice it to say I'm one stubborn lady. Anyway. My milk supply has been dwindling (at least the amount I'm able to pump when I'm at work - Beanie still seems content when she nurses) - so I've been "power pumping" to try to build it back up. This involves pumping for at least 5 minutes after each feeding - while trying to entertain a 9 month old crawling baby and keep her from eating lamp cords and whatnot. Picture it. Double breast pump attached to boobs. Chasing crawling baby. You're laughing, aren't you? Yeah, me too - it's that or scream. I've been drinking enough water to float an ocean liner and eating oatmeal with brewer's yeast til I gag too.
And it's going to be Christmas in a few days. I find myself responsible this year for orchestrating the family Christmas gathering on the Eve. My aunt who usually did it after Grandma died moved to North Carolina over the summer, and I think somehow I may have accidentally volunteered. Or someone volunteered me. I'm not sure which. I just want to know why so many people I love end up moving to North Carolina? And who ever said I know the first thing about entertaining?
I had myself a good, loud, snotty cry the other day though, while Josie took her nap. It wasn't pretty, but it got the job done. I think I'm going to make it.
There are so many things to do. So many. I try to prioritize, but almost all of them are pretty important. And I absolutely do not know how to ask for help. Did you ever see that movie with Sandra Bullock, 28 Days? She's in rehab, ends up on crutches from a failed escape attempt and the therapist makes her wear a sign around her neck that says something like, "Ask me if I need help." Okay, so it took a long time to get to the point, but the point is - that could be me. Minus the drinking problem - though some days I think it might be helpful if I developed one of those.
The hub is sick. He works retail and it's the week of Christmas, so the timing is really bad. He's allergic to something - maybe dust mites, maybe just life in general - and he's been breaking out in hives and having a hell of a time breathing. He's been seeing an allergist who put him on massive doses of steroids, along with a cocktail of other drugs. The hives are better. The asthma is too, but only slightly. He's pretty miserable. And, being "organizationally challenged", he can't keep track of all these meds by himself. So, I've been trying to do it for him. And worrying about him. And doing everything else around here because he's pretty much incapacitated after he struggles through the day at work.
Then there's the whole breastfeeding thing. I'm determined to make it to at least a year breastfeeding the Bean. When I get determined to do something, anyone who knows me will tell you it takes... Well, I'm too damn tired to come up with a snappy metaphor right now, but suffice it to say I'm one stubborn lady. Anyway. My milk supply has been dwindling (at least the amount I'm able to pump when I'm at work - Beanie still seems content when she nurses) - so I've been "power pumping" to try to build it back up. This involves pumping for at least 5 minutes after each feeding - while trying to entertain a 9 month old crawling baby and keep her from eating lamp cords and whatnot. Picture it. Double breast pump attached to boobs. Chasing crawling baby. You're laughing, aren't you? Yeah, me too - it's that or scream. I've been drinking enough water to float an ocean liner and eating oatmeal with brewer's yeast til I gag too.
And it's going to be Christmas in a few days. I find myself responsible this year for orchestrating the family Christmas gathering on the Eve. My aunt who usually did it after Grandma died moved to North Carolina over the summer, and I think somehow I may have accidentally volunteered. Or someone volunteered me. I'm not sure which. I just want to know why so many people I love end up moving to North Carolina? And who ever said I know the first thing about entertaining?
I had myself a good, loud, snotty cry the other day though, while Josie took her nap. It wasn't pretty, but it got the job done. I think I'm going to make it.
5 Months
I wrote this back when my little 9 month old girl was just 5 months - but apparently I forgot to publish it. So... here it is, 4 months late! lol
Josie is 5 months old today. I can't believe it. On one hand, it feels as though she's been a part of my life forever, for as long as I can remember. I can't imagine life without her, without knowing her, without her always on my mind on some level, without loving her. Then on the other hand, it seems just yesterday we were staring in joyful terror at the positive pregnancy test, or drifting through that surreal sleep-deprived emotional/hormonal roller-coaster time in the hospital after she was born. Wow. Just...wow.
At 5 months, Josie my little Bean, you are:
-Blowing raspberries continuously because you think it's the greatest joke ever - and belly-laughing til you choke on all the drool - then laughing more over that.
-Sitting up all by yourself! Everyone says it's early, but you're right on schedule for YOU so who cares about early or late? Life's not a race, kiddo. (Unless it really is, you know, like track and field - then run like heck in that case.)
-Sometimes forgetting that nothing is holding you up when you're sitting by yourself, and toppling over. We're careful to avoid hard surfaces, so you think this is almost as hilarious as blowing raspberries. Almost. More belly-laughing ensues.
-The life of any party. Daddy calls you a celebrity because wherever we take you, you attract attention and have "fans". You've never met a stranger, and you're always so happy and smiley and excited about everything that people can't help but watch you and laugh.
Josie is 5 months old today. I can't believe it. On one hand, it feels as though she's been a part of my life forever, for as long as I can remember. I can't imagine life without her, without knowing her, without her always on my mind on some level, without loving her. Then on the other hand, it seems just yesterday we were staring in joyful terror at the positive pregnancy test, or drifting through that surreal sleep-deprived emotional/hormonal roller-coaster time in the hospital after she was born. Wow. Just...wow.
At 5 months, Josie my little Bean, you are:
-Blowing raspberries continuously because you think it's the greatest joke ever - and belly-laughing til you choke on all the drool - then laughing more over that.
-Sitting up all by yourself! Everyone says it's early, but you're right on schedule for YOU so who cares about early or late? Life's not a race, kiddo. (Unless it really is, you know, like track and field - then run like heck in that case.)
-Sometimes forgetting that nothing is holding you up when you're sitting by yourself, and toppling over. We're careful to avoid hard surfaces, so you think this is almost as hilarious as blowing raspberries. Almost. More belly-laughing ensues.
-The life of any party. Daddy calls you a celebrity because wherever we take you, you attract attention and have "fans". You've never met a stranger, and you're always so happy and smiley and excited about everything that people can't help but watch you and laugh.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
It's the Little Things
I'm overdue for a positive blog post, so... The little things that just toast my tuna sandwich...in no particular order.
Josie claps when I walk into a room, even if I've only been gone for 30 seconds. She also claps for the Baby Einstein video and the dog and the server when we go out to eat, but it still makes me feel special.
It's completely pointless, but the little virtual cat on this blog - well, he just makes me irrationally happy. I don't know why. Maybe because I can play with him and pet him and he purrs and is all cute, but I DON'T have to scoop his poo out of a litter box... Yeah, that's probably it.
Good sheets. I have exactly one set of nice sheets. My other sets are cheap. Because I have this one nice set and a bunch of other cheap sets, when the nice set is on our bed I really notice and appreciate the nice set. I get into bed and purr like my virtual blog cat. It reminds me that you'll never fully appreciate the top of the mountain if you've never been slogging through the swamp to get there.
The hub's sleeping pills. Altruistically, I will say I'm happy because they make him able to sleep better. Selfishly (and probably more honestly), I really like talking to him when he's doped up. He's funny and really super sweet. And funny. Did I mention funny?
Chocolate Almond Toffees from L.L. Bean. The hub's aunt sent us some for Christmas. I seriously doubt any of them will survive til the actual holiday (hopefully the same won't be true of my dental work...) Holy McJeebus on a bicycle they are yummy!
The remote start on my car. It turns on the heat, defrosts the windows AND turns on the seat heaters. On cold winter mornings, there's nothing worse than a cold butt - and nothing better than a warm one! The only way I could love it more is if it made me hot chocolate too.
My dog likes Cheerios. So all those Cheerios Josie drops/throws/spits on the floor as she learns to feed herself - I don't have to clean them up! I think this habit my dog's developed of hanging out under the highchair is going to be a very useful one for me.
Josie claps when I walk into a room, even if I've only been gone for 30 seconds. She also claps for the Baby Einstein video and the dog and the server when we go out to eat, but it still makes me feel special.
It's completely pointless, but the little virtual cat on this blog - well, he just makes me irrationally happy. I don't know why. Maybe because I can play with him and pet him and he purrs and is all cute, but I DON'T have to scoop his poo out of a litter box... Yeah, that's probably it.
Good sheets. I have exactly one set of nice sheets. My other sets are cheap. Because I have this one nice set and a bunch of other cheap sets, when the nice set is on our bed I really notice and appreciate the nice set. I get into bed and purr like my virtual blog cat. It reminds me that you'll never fully appreciate the top of the mountain if you've never been slogging through the swamp to get there.
The hub's sleeping pills. Altruistically, I will say I'm happy because they make him able to sleep better. Selfishly (and probably more honestly), I really like talking to him when he's doped up. He's funny and really super sweet. And funny. Did I mention funny?
Chocolate Almond Toffees from L.L. Bean. The hub's aunt sent us some for Christmas. I seriously doubt any of them will survive til the actual holiday (hopefully the same won't be true of my dental work...) Holy McJeebus on a bicycle they are yummy!
The remote start on my car. It turns on the heat, defrosts the windows AND turns on the seat heaters. On cold winter mornings, there's nothing worse than a cold butt - and nothing better than a warm one! The only way I could love it more is if it made me hot chocolate too.
My dog likes Cheerios. So all those Cheerios Josie drops/throws/spits on the floor as she learns to feed herself - I don't have to clean them up! I think this habit my dog's developed of hanging out under the highchair is going to be a very useful one for me.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Ugly Days
I think every woman has those days when, no matter what you do, you just don't feel pretty. Okay, forget pretty. Me, some days, I feel like pretty is on a whole other planet, in a distant universe, through a time warp and in an alternate reality. All the magic of make-up, all the little tubes and pots and brushes, the hair tricks and accessorizing and slimming dark colors - ain't none of it gonna do a bit o' good.
I'm generally pretty okay with myself. I mean, I want to lose weight and I hate my hair ever since Josie was born and I rarely ever look decent in photos, but overall I'm not a hater. I don't lose any sleep over it or waste any time sitting around feeling bad about it. Who has time? And ultimately, what does it really matter? People don't come to your funeral because you were pretty. They come because you were kind, funny, smart, helpful, loving, generous - a million other things. Pretty? Not so much.
I digress.
The past few days, I have felt just... gross. My skin is an oil slick and I'm breaking out like a teenager. My hair is in this awkward phase of growing out from the massive loss it suffered after Josie was born and a subsequent overzealous haircut. I'm bloated. Can you guess what else is going on? Think lunar cycles. Think really hard. If you're a man, I hate you. Does that give it away?
Being a woman is hard. And I'm not even mentioning the things we do to NOT feel ugly - the waxing and plucking and starving and the 4 inch heels. Spanx? Just call it what it is - a girdle. Torture.
Today, I'm giving in. I'm wearing sweat pants. All day. Even in public. So there.
I'm generally pretty okay with myself. I mean, I want to lose weight and I hate my hair ever since Josie was born and I rarely ever look decent in photos, but overall I'm not a hater. I don't lose any sleep over it or waste any time sitting around feeling bad about it. Who has time? And ultimately, what does it really matter? People don't come to your funeral because you were pretty. They come because you were kind, funny, smart, helpful, loving, generous - a million other things. Pretty? Not so much.
I digress.
The past few days, I have felt just... gross. My skin is an oil slick and I'm breaking out like a teenager. My hair is in this awkward phase of growing out from the massive loss it suffered after Josie was born and a subsequent overzealous haircut. I'm bloated. Can you guess what else is going on? Think lunar cycles. Think really hard. If you're a man, I hate you. Does that give it away?
Being a woman is hard. And I'm not even mentioning the things we do to NOT feel ugly - the waxing and plucking and starving and the 4 inch heels. Spanx? Just call it what it is - a girdle. Torture.
Today, I'm giving in. I'm wearing sweat pants. All day. Even in public. So there.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Cranky Pants
Josie Marie, dear child of my heart, love of my life, PUH-LEASE stop whining and screaming all day! You are driving Mommy absolutely bat-poopy insane. Dear God, let this not be a phase that lasts for very long, or soon you might find me curled in a ball in the corner, screaming too. Why oh why can't humans be born with teeth? I mean, really? REALLY? This seems to be a design flaw to me. I know, I know, that takes hubris to say to the Supreme Creator, but I'm sleep-deprived and did I mention bat-poopy insane? Yeah.
She's got two teeth now though - and it's super-dee-duper cute. (Yes, I really say things like super-dee-duper. Especially when I'm super-dee-duper sleep-deprived.) See those cute little pearly whites on the bottom? Awww!
She doesn't look like a screaming banshee Madam Cranky Pants there, does she? Don't be fooled. She just liked the photographer - my friend, Kim Melendy of Kim Melendy Photography. Who did an awesome job on her 7 month photos (of which I will add more later).
She's got two teeth now though - and it's super-dee-duper cute. (Yes, I really say things like super-dee-duper. Especially when I'm super-dee-duper sleep-deprived.) See those cute little pearly whites on the bottom? Awww!
She doesn't look like a screaming banshee Madam Cranky Pants there, does she? Don't be fooled. She just liked the photographer - my friend, Kim Melendy of Kim Melendy Photography. Who did an awesome job on her 7 month photos (of which I will add more later).
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Fakers
I hate it when someone pretends to "commiserate" with you by telling you how great they have it in a backhanded way.
Example (admittedly exaggerated and sarcastic, but still): "You have no legs? Oh, that's terrible! BUT it's even worse to have such strong, beautiful legs like MINE. Let me tell you! It's SUCH a burden to be able to walk and run and ride a bike and do squat thrusts. Ugh! Legs are SO overrated, especially PERFECT legs like mine!"
I hate it when people dis themselves just to hear other people tell them how wrong they are.
Example: "That" skinny girl (we all know one) who constantly complains about how grossly fat and disgusting she is. "Oh, my THUNDER thighs! My cottage cheese butt!" So all her friends chime in with, "O Em Gee, you are SOOO skinny! You're like Kate Moss skinny! Anorexic skinny! You disappear when you turn sideways!" And then, if said friend is also one of "those" skinny girls, "Look at ME! I'm the one whose clothes have to be made by Omar the tent-maker!" The ego-petting/self-deprecating fakery can go on for EVER, back and forth, around and around in circles. O Emm Geeeee.
Then there's the backhanded compliment, which is really a nicey-nice way to say something really shitty.
Example: "It's a shame she's so overweight, because she has SUCH a pretty face!"
Or the belief some people seem to have that as long as they say something like "Bless his heart" prior to saying something really shitty like "He's dumb as a box of rocks!" it makes it no longer shitty...
I'm feeling negative today, can ya tell?
It's a beautiful fall day and (bless my heart), I'm in a pissy mood. Time to get over it.
Example (admittedly exaggerated and sarcastic, but still): "You have no legs? Oh, that's terrible! BUT it's even worse to have such strong, beautiful legs like MINE. Let me tell you! It's SUCH a burden to be able to walk and run and ride a bike and do squat thrusts. Ugh! Legs are SO overrated, especially PERFECT legs like mine!"
I hate it when people dis themselves just to hear other people tell them how wrong they are.
Example: "That" skinny girl (we all know one) who constantly complains about how grossly fat and disgusting she is. "Oh, my THUNDER thighs! My cottage cheese butt!" So all her friends chime in with, "O Em Gee, you are SOOO skinny! You're like Kate Moss skinny! Anorexic skinny! You disappear when you turn sideways!" And then, if said friend is also one of "those" skinny girls, "Look at ME! I'm the one whose clothes have to be made by Omar the tent-maker!" The ego-petting/self-deprecating fakery can go on for EVER, back and forth, around and around in circles. O Emm Geeeee.
Then there's the backhanded compliment, which is really a nicey-nice way to say something really shitty.
Example: "It's a shame she's so overweight, because she has SUCH a pretty face!"
Or the belief some people seem to have that as long as they say something like "Bless his heart" prior to saying something really shitty like "He's dumb as a box of rocks!" it makes it no longer shitty...
I'm feeling negative today, can ya tell?
It's a beautiful fall day and (bless my heart), I'm in a pissy mood. Time to get over it.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Thirty
So, on the 4th I turned 30.
I don't quite know how I feel about this yet, which is why I haven't posted about it yet. For some reason I felt the need to acknowledge the passage of this momentous birthday though. I'm 30. Huh.
2010 has been a big year.
I became a mom.
Geoff and I celebrated our 10th wedding anniversary.
I turned 30.
I don't quite know how I feel about this yet, which is why I haven't posted about it yet. For some reason I felt the need to acknowledge the passage of this momentous birthday though. I'm 30. Huh.
2010 has been a big year.
I became a mom.
Geoff and I celebrated our 10th wedding anniversary.
I turned 30.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Not Da Mama
Remember me? Wife. Partner. Equal.
Not your mom. Not your babysitter. Not your maid.
This morning, exactly one hour before he's due to leave for work, he informs me he has no pants to wear. Well, dear, pants are kind of non-negotiable. You got dressed yesterday. You were in your closet. You couldn't have noticed and/or mentioned this yesterday morning, or even last night? As it stands this morning, all of your work pants are currently residing in the washing machine. They're soaked and soapy and there's not a damn thing I can do about it in time for you to go to work.
This is not my fault and it's not my problem. I'm not going to stress out about it. Figure something out. You're a big boy.
This is going to be my response at other similar moments too, such as when you inform me the day after I go to the grocery store that you need deodorant or shaving cream. I always tell you when I'm going - how about using a little foresight? You're not stupid, after all. You're a very intelligent man. Time to start expecting a little bit more of yourself. So I'm going to help you out by expecting more of you too.
Not your mom. Not your babysitter. Not your maid.
This morning, exactly one hour before he's due to leave for work, he informs me he has no pants to wear. Well, dear, pants are kind of non-negotiable. You got dressed yesterday. You were in your closet. You couldn't have noticed and/or mentioned this yesterday morning, or even last night? As it stands this morning, all of your work pants are currently residing in the washing machine. They're soaked and soapy and there's not a damn thing I can do about it in time for you to go to work.
This is not my fault and it's not my problem. I'm not going to stress out about it. Figure something out. You're a big boy.
This is going to be my response at other similar moments too, such as when you inform me the day after I go to the grocery store that you need deodorant or shaving cream. I always tell you when I'm going - how about using a little foresight? You're not stupid, after all. You're a very intelligent man. Time to start expecting a little bit more of yourself. So I'm going to help you out by expecting more of you too.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Give Peas a Chance!
Har Har.
Josie didn't think it was very funny either as she spewed pea puree back at me today. Apparently, peas aren't food in the land of Josie. The dog enjoyed this new food delivery method though, as peas splattered the floor. Apparently, dogs really will eat anything. Josie's dad got entirely too much enjoyment out of this as well, and not because he was licking up the floor either. At least the dog was being useful. Dear/Damn husband (depending on the day/mood) was gloating because he hates peas and I always try to convince him that they're not really all that bad. He feels validated in his pea hatred by Josie's pea hatred. I wanted to wipe the grin off his face as I wiped the pea carnage off mine, but I was too busy preventing further disaster as Josie tried to hurl the bowl of pea slop to the floor. And that was that.
Josie didn't think it was very funny either as she spewed pea puree back at me today. Apparently, peas aren't food in the land of Josie. The dog enjoyed this new food delivery method though, as peas splattered the floor. Apparently, dogs really will eat anything. Josie's dad got entirely too much enjoyment out of this as well, and not because he was licking up the floor either. At least the dog was being useful. Dear/Damn husband (depending on the day/mood) was gloating because he hates peas and I always try to convince him that they're not really all that bad. He feels validated in his pea hatred by Josie's pea hatred. I wanted to wipe the grin off his face as I wiped the pea carnage off mine, but I was too busy preventing further disaster as Josie tried to hurl the bowl of pea slop to the floor. And that was that.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
10 Years
A decade is a period of ten years. The word is derived (via French) from the Ancient Greek dekas which means ten.
That's what Wikipedia has to say on the matter anyway. I heart me some Wikipedia, but this left something to be desired today.
On October 7, 2010, Geoff and I will be married for 10 years, a full decade. Somehow that sounds like such a long time, but on the other hand doesn't seem long enough to accommodate all that's happened. Like any other living human beings, we've been through a lot in these 10 years. A lot.
We've been unemployed, disabled, nearly homeless, bankrupt, scrounging change from the couch cushions for a dinner of Ramen noodles broke. We've gone through applying to various government agencies for assistance (fruitlessly, I might add, as no matter how poor or disabled we were, it was never poor or disabled enough to get any help somehow...) We've clawed our way up from the upper-lower class to the lower-middle class (I think).
We've had countless arguments and some real screaming matches. We've threatened to call it quits a few times, and maybe almost meant it once or twice (but obviously not quite.) There are some things we will forever see differently. I think he's a slob. He thinks I hate all of his friends. We're both, at least partially, right.
We're different people than we were 15 years ago when we met, or 10 years ago when we married. We're very different people from each other - different personalities, different opinions, different wants and needs. We're each a testament to the fact that people do change - but only when and how they choose to change.
Nothing has really happened the way we had it planned. We were going to have a house and our first child after 5 years. It took us almost 8 years to get the house and almost 10 to have the child. We still aren't financially where we determined we wanted to be before having said child. Yet, we're getting by and so there you have it.
This week we've been... off. We had one of those roaring fights a few days ago. Neither of us has officially apologized, and we've been kind of tip-toeing around each other. There's a big ugly elephant in the room, and we haven't quite gotten around to giving him the shove off yet. He did bring me a flash drive shaped like a cat as a peace offering (that's our version of flowers and chocolates, you could say). Its head pops off to reveal the USB plug, which is a bit disturbing, but it's cool nonetheless. I bought him some almonds and didn't lace them with arsenic (harhar).
As bad as it all seemed at the time, and as angry and hurt as I was, I guess 10 years has taught me that... we'll survive. We'll deal with the elephant when he starts to stink up the place, and we'll move on. We have new challenges to face with parenthood, but we'll face them. We'll change more. We'll disagree. We'll fight. But we'll survive.
Because we choose to. Because we're in it for the long-haul. Because, ultimately, we're both stubborn and loyal as hell - and that's why this marriage, us, works.
That's what Wikipedia has to say on the matter anyway. I heart me some Wikipedia, but this left something to be desired today.
On October 7, 2010, Geoff and I will be married for 10 years, a full decade. Somehow that sounds like such a long time, but on the other hand doesn't seem long enough to accommodate all that's happened. Like any other living human beings, we've been through a lot in these 10 years. A lot.
We've been unemployed, disabled, nearly homeless, bankrupt, scrounging change from the couch cushions for a dinner of Ramen noodles broke. We've gone through applying to various government agencies for assistance (fruitlessly, I might add, as no matter how poor or disabled we were, it was never poor or disabled enough to get any help somehow...) We've clawed our way up from the upper-lower class to the lower-middle class (I think).
We've had countless arguments and some real screaming matches. We've threatened to call it quits a few times, and maybe almost meant it once or twice (but obviously not quite.) There are some things we will forever see differently. I think he's a slob. He thinks I hate all of his friends. We're both, at least partially, right.
We're different people than we were 15 years ago when we met, or 10 years ago when we married. We're very different people from each other - different personalities, different opinions, different wants and needs. We're each a testament to the fact that people do change - but only when and how they choose to change.
Nothing has really happened the way we had it planned. We were going to have a house and our first child after 5 years. It took us almost 8 years to get the house and almost 10 to have the child. We still aren't financially where we determined we wanted to be before having said child. Yet, we're getting by and so there you have it.
This week we've been... off. We had one of those roaring fights a few days ago. Neither of us has officially apologized, and we've been kind of tip-toeing around each other. There's a big ugly elephant in the room, and we haven't quite gotten around to giving him the shove off yet. He did bring me a flash drive shaped like a cat as a peace offering (that's our version of flowers and chocolates, you could say). Its head pops off to reveal the USB plug, which is a bit disturbing, but it's cool nonetheless. I bought him some almonds and didn't lace them with arsenic (harhar).
As bad as it all seemed at the time, and as angry and hurt as I was, I guess 10 years has taught me that... we'll survive. We'll deal with the elephant when he starts to stink up the place, and we'll move on. We have new challenges to face with parenthood, but we'll face them. We'll change more. We'll disagree. We'll fight. But we'll survive.
Because we choose to. Because we're in it for the long-haul. Because, ultimately, we're both stubborn and loyal as hell - and that's why this marriage, us, works.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Galactagogue
Sounds like what one might call a rabid Battlestar Galactica fan, no?
No. It's something (herbs, for instance) that promote lactation. I just bought some Milkmaid Herbal Tea, a galactagogue (okay, I just like using that word now!) It sounds... interesting. There's something in it that apparently can make your urine smell like maple syrup and might possibly start your period. Bonus!
Some days, if it weren't for the fact that I absolutely adore that sweet baby girl of mine, I'd say I've lost my ever-loving mind by becoming a mom. Then again, I wasn't exactly sane before. Now I just have a good excuse. And a cool new word in my vocabulary.
No. It's something (herbs, for instance) that promote lactation. I just bought some Milkmaid Herbal Tea, a galactagogue (okay, I just like using that word now!) It sounds... interesting. There's something in it that apparently can make your urine smell like maple syrup and might possibly start your period. Bonus!
Some days, if it weren't for the fact that I absolutely adore that sweet baby girl of mine, I'd say I've lost my ever-loving mind by becoming a mom. Then again, I wasn't exactly sane before. Now I just have a good excuse. And a cool new word in my vocabulary.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Still Not One of the Cool Kids
Cool indie rock girl, I will never be you. In high school, I used to idolize you. You, with your careless hair hanging to your rear and your thrift store chic. You played the guitar and wrote poetic songs about deep things like starving children and crooked politicians and obscure English literature. You wore hemp jewelry and shells and didn't eat meat. I don't know why I was never good enough to be your friend. You always seemed to just look right through me. You probably have no idea now who I even am. I was different/unique/weird/creative/stoned too. We could have been those quirky outcast friends like in the movies. That ship has sailed.
So, now, I refuse to like your musician page on Facebook (even if you are pretty good). I will NOT be a fan. Call me petty, but the dogs of hell couldn't drag my mouse pointer to click that button. Harumph.
So, now, I refuse to like your musician page on Facebook (even if you are pretty good). I will NOT be a fan. Call me petty, but the dogs of hell couldn't drag my mouse pointer to click that button. Harumph.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Important Truths for Adults
Again, a little gem from cyberspace, not sure who wrote it, but it tickled my funny bone. Hope it tickles yours too, if anyone ever reads this blog other than me! ;)
1. I think part of a best friend's job should be to immediately clear your computer history if you die.
2. Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong.
3. I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger.
4. There is great need for a sarcasm font.
5. How the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?
6. Was learning cursive really necessary?
7. Map Quest really needs to start their directions on # 5. I'm pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.
8. Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.
9. I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind of tired.
10. Bad decisions make good stories.
11. You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you know that you just aren't going to do anything productive for the rest of the day.
12. Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after Blue Ray? I don't want to have to restart my collection...again.
13. I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten-page technical report that I swear I did not make any changes to.
14. I keep some people's phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call.
15. I think the freezer deserves a light as well.
16. I disagree with Kay Jewelers. I would bet on any given Friday or Saturday night more kisses begin with Miller Lite than Kay.
17. I wish Google Maps had an "Avoid Ghetto" routing option.
18. I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger.
19. How many times is it appropriate to say "What?" before you just nod and smile because you still didn't hear or understand a word they said?
20. I love the sense of camaraderie when an entire line of cars team up to prevent a jerk from cutting in at the front. Stay strong, brothers and sisters!
21. Shirts get dirty. Underwear gets dirty. Pants? Pants never get dirty, and you can wear them forever.
22. Sometimes I'll look down at my watch 3 consecutive times and still not know what time it is.
23. Even under ideal conditions people have trouble locating their car keys in a pocket, finding their cell phone, and Pinning the Tail on the Donkey - but I'd bet everyone can find and push the snooze button from 3 feet away, in about 1.7 seconds, eyes closed, first time, every time!
24. The first testicular guard, the "Cup," was used in Hockey in 1874 and the first helmet was used in 1974.
That means it only took 100 years for men to realize that their brain is also important.
1. I think part of a best friend's job should be to immediately clear your computer history if you die.
2. Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong.
3. I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger.
4. There is great need for a sarcasm font.
5. How the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?
6. Was learning cursive really necessary?
7. Map Quest really needs to start their directions on # 5. I'm pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.
8. Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.
9. I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind of tired.
10. Bad decisions make good stories.
11. You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you know that you just aren't going to do anything productive for the rest of the day.
12. Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after Blue Ray? I don't want to have to restart my collection...again.
13. I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten-page technical report that I swear I did not make any changes to.
14. I keep some people's phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call.
15. I think the freezer deserves a light as well.
16. I disagree with Kay Jewelers. I would bet on any given Friday or Saturday night more kisses begin with Miller Lite than Kay.
17. I wish Google Maps had an "Avoid Ghetto" routing option.
18. I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger.
19. How many times is it appropriate to say "What?" before you just nod and smile because you still didn't hear or understand a word they said?
20. I love the sense of camaraderie when an entire line of cars team up to prevent a jerk from cutting in at the front. Stay strong, brothers and sisters!
21. Shirts get dirty. Underwear gets dirty. Pants? Pants never get dirty, and you can wear them forever.
22. Sometimes I'll look down at my watch 3 consecutive times and still not know what time it is.
23. Even under ideal conditions people have trouble locating their car keys in a pocket, finding their cell phone, and Pinning the Tail on the Donkey - but I'd bet everyone can find and push the snooze button from 3 feet away, in about 1.7 seconds, eyes closed, first time, every time!
24. The first testicular guard, the "Cup," was used in Hockey in 1874 and the first helmet was used in 1974.
That means it only took 100 years for men to realize that their brain is also important.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Mommy Rhapsody
I got a good laugh out of this, so thought I'd share. I imagine this is what I have to look forward to...
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Introductions n' Such
It has been brought to my attention (by my thoroughly male, testosterone-poisoned husband) that the title of this blog could be misconstrued. We all know what men want to do when the baby's sleeping. Women, moms, on the other hand, think in terms of loads of laundry and starting dinner and maybe, if they're really lucky, having 5 minutes to sit abso-blinking-lutely still and read a book or stare into space or even attain the holy grail -a NAP. Sex is somewhere down the list - somewhere waaaay down at the bottom of the list most days.
The title of this blog comes from the fact that I'm a new mom to a currently 5 month old little girl, Josie. She is, of course, the most adorable child to spring forth from any mere human womb. See left for incontrovertible proof. I may be biased, but judge for yourself. Just don't try to tell me otherwise, or I might have to open a can of mama bear whoop-ass on ya.
I digress. While the birth of Josie expanded my world in ways I can't even begin to describe, it also vastly reduced my amount of "me time." I sleep less. I go out less (okay, never). Sometimes I forget to eat (unfortunately not often enough, ahem). Some days showering is relegated to the non-essential column. I've been reading the same book since she was born. You get the idea. My me time, when I do get it, is pretty much while the baby is sleeping. And I really find myself in need of a creative outlet now that all my energy isn't going into creating a life inside me. So, viola. A blog is born.
I can't really tell you yet what it will become. Knowing me, well, I have attention-span and organizational issues. So it will most likely go in plenty of different directions. We'll see.
I digress. While the birth of Josie expanded my world in ways I can't even begin to describe, it also vastly reduced my amount of "me time." I sleep less. I go out less (okay, never). Sometimes I forget to eat (unfortunately not often enough, ahem). Some days showering is relegated to the non-essential column. I've been reading the same book since she was born. You get the idea. My me time, when I do get it, is pretty much while the baby is sleeping. And I really find myself in need of a creative outlet now that all my energy isn't going into creating a life inside me. So, viola. A blog is born.
I can't really tell you yet what it will become. Knowing me, well, I have attention-span and organizational issues. So it will most likely go in plenty of different directions. We'll see.
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