where there's a will...

Misguided Roses and Emeralds from Mountains...

2012-02-02T21:46:00.001-07:00

'The strands in your eyes, that color them wonderful stop me and steal my breath. And emeralds from mountains, thrust towards the sky, never revealing their depth. Tell me that we belong together. Dress it up with the trappings of love. I'll be captivated. I'll hang from your lips instead of the gallows of heartache that hang from above. I'll be your crying shoulder. I'll be love's suicide. I'll be better when I'm older. I'll be the greatest fan of your life...'

Looking back over the last 4 year is awe-ing to me. Four and a half to be exact. Remembering where we started, what we've overcome, it reminds me that for all his faults, he is my biggest fan. He is my strength when I'm running on empty. My humor when I need to relax. My tether to the real world when Joanne's happy bubble starts to turn...not-so-happy.

Does that mean its supposed to be perfect? Does that mean that almost five years into this, we have all the 'secrets to marriage' figured out? No. It means that after two weekends of bickering and sniping at each other, we look at each other, smile, and recognize that despite the quarrels and whatever else, we are stronger together than apart. We realize that no one else could complete each other as thoroughly as we do. We have two beautiful, beautifully annoying, healthy, happy, intelligent, and charismatic little boys.

I know hard-er times are bound to pop up. I know we'll weather those storms and hurricanes like we have in the past: dedication to each other and our life. We're lucky though, I think. We realize how strong we are as a unit.

We're not perfect. But we're perfect together.

Politics and Religion...

2011-08-09T19:16:00.000-07:00

I was a bartender through college and through most of my 20s. There's a general rule to be followed and is as such enforced by most bartenders, especially in this great state of Utah. Rule #1 is as follows: NO POLITICS AND/OR RELIGION from the very first beer delivered, shot ordered, and/or cocktail mixed. For the most part, I carry that rule along with me whenever interacting with people who don't know me. Thus, the remainder of my 'rant' is prefaced as pertaining to politics. Be warned.

This national debt/financial crisis/S&P downgrading thing has me questioning a simple issue regarding the status of our 'free' country. We're told to contact our representatives. We're told that living in this country, we have the ability to make a change. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure that was the tag line for one of the presidential candidates during his race. But where's my representation? Where's a politician who wasn't born with a silver spoon? Where's a politician who's been in our familial position before? Where's a politician who has the same concerns I do? I have 2 parents in their 60s. I'm the only kid to take care of them. Are they gonna be living with me when social security runs out? I've brought 2 future tax-payers into this world in the last 3 years. What kind of school system are they going to be 'learning' in? What kind of representation are they gonna have come the day?

There's a song/speech/whatever from 1999, which in my ripe old age of 28, has been echoing through my head lately:

Accept certain inalienable truths,

prices will rise,

politicians will philander,
you too will get old,

and when you do you’ll fantasize
that when you were young prices were reasonable,

politicians were noble...

Here's my trouble though: I'm a student of history. I have a B.A. to prove it. I can't think of the last time there WAS a middle-class politician. When was the last time there was someone in our government who was the voice for the middle-class? When was the last time the middle-class had a majority in our government? Mike, I, and Chris came up with a three-step resolution to the debt crisis within our country. Sad part is, 75% of it was taken from the New Deal (please, please tell me you know what that is). Where's someone in our government who can do what we did? Who can see the situation and take a lesson from history...if not taken from history, at least use the positive aspects of the New Deal and implement them for circa 2011 instead of the Great Depression era. The lesson is simple: stop giving money away and make legal residents of this country work for it if it's needed. I'm just saying. I'm female, white, and in my late 20s, married with 2 kids. I have to work for the things I want. Why shouldn't everyone else?

Because It's Grind, Grind, Grind at that Grindstone...

2011-07-17T11:29:00.000-07:00

Wyatt's started watching Mary Poppins at night, as he falls to sleep. Each night for the last three nights, I hear his giggles at the 'penguin' sequence, his complete body laugh at the tea on the ceiling scene, and his quiet snoring at the end, when they're flying kites. The best part is my flashbacks from this movie and it's marvelous music. When beginning to play the violin and learning how to read sheet music, I dug up the copy of Mary Poppins songbook long treasured by my mother. While playing the violin in my room, I remember the first time my dad recognized a song: chim chimney.

"because it's grind, grind, grind at that grindstone;
Though childhood slips, like sands through a sieve
Then one day they've up and grown and then they've flown
And it's too late for you to give....

That spoon full of sugar to help the medicine go down,
The medicine go down..."

Sitting in the rocking chair tonight, watching the chimney sweep scene, singing those lyrics, moved me almost to tears. Wy's approaching 3 at lightning speed; Landon's no better, hitting his 15 month mark a mere 10 days ago. I realize the annoying tendencies of toddlers are fleeting. The cries for juice to prolong falling to sleep will be replaced by tween fun and teenage rebellion. The clamoring for attention will be replaced by their need to be independent and make their own mistakes, and wanting little to nothing to do with me, much as I did. The endless energy will be replaced by late nights, sneaking out and sleeping through classes.

It warms my heart knowing (or hoping) that these two little poopheads will have a memory of me sitting in the rocking chair in their room, stroking Wyatt's hair, singing about kids growing up too soon and finding a place 'tween pavement and stars' where they can be happy. I learned a lot from both of my parents, I'm realizing now. Mostly though, I've learned that the memories that stick with a child aren't the big productions, or the ultimate sacrifices. They won't remember mike and I bickering over money, or how much we did or didn't work. They, like me, will remember the moments we were there. The time we took to sit with then for 5 minutes long after they were supposed to be in bed, to sing for them, or stroke their hair. It's moments like these that I figure I'm being the best mom I can. And I'm enjoying the hell outta the two little guys who have my heart.

Les Mis and Snow in March...

2011-03-07T22:27:00.000-07:00

After watching a few shows I recorded last night while working at the restaurant, I stumbled onto Les Mis on KUED. It's the 25th anniversary show from London, starring Nick Jonas (I assume of the Jonas Brothers).

"On this page, I write my last confession.

Read it well, when I at last am sleeping.

It's the story of those who always loved you.

Your mother gave her life for you, then gave you to my keeping."

The very first lyric memorized from this musical, it haunted me for days and days and days when I was in 8th grade. In choir, we'd sung a Broadway Medley with those lines in it somewhere. They haunted me, even at 14. Shortly thereafter, while still living in Hampton, I acquired a Highlights Of Les Mis cd. My parents can share horror stories of how often they'd find me up at 2 or 3 in the morning, the volume on my stereo as low as possible, listening.

"Will you join in our crusade?

Who will be strong and stand with me?

Somewhere beyond the barricade is there a world you long to see?

Do you hear the people sing?

Say, do you hear the distant drums?

It is the future that they bring when to tomorrow comes!!"

After a really tough day with Wy when he was little, I had been listening to Les Mis all day in an effort to calm him and me down simultaneously. Mike walks through the door as I'm singing towards Wyatt:

"One day more! Another day, another destiny"

Mike starts singing with me, and the first genuine smile in hours crossed my face.

That's what I love about music; that's what I love about Broadway. Les Mis in particular is a musical I carry with me always. As my own version of Eponine at 18, carrying a torch for a boy who would never really love me. As Cosette and Marius at 24 when Mike and I finally stopped circling each other around the valley (as we had since we were 15/16) and found happiness. As a 26 yr old mom to a toddler while extremely preggers with Thing 2, I chanted "master of the house" to Mike just to get him riled up (or to guilt him into helping with dishes or whatever). And now, I can understand Fantine: I can understand a mother sacrificing her life for her childs' well-being. I'm sure later on in my life, different characters and aspects will seem more important than others.... One thing I know...This is one CD/Blu Ray/DVD that will be added to my collection.

And I Scream From the Top of My Lungs, WHAT'S GOING ON!?!?!?!

2011-01-05T03:18:00.000-07:00

There's this song that regularly makes it into the top 20 playlist of my life. A one-hit-wonder that few (if any) know all the words to, it consistently has relevance to whatever seems to be bogging me down.

During college, after being harshly graded, this song made me feel like I wasn't the only person in the world being given a raw deal (whether deservedly or not):

And I try, oh my God,

do I try

I try all the time

In this institution

And I pray, oh my God

Do I pray

I pray every single day

for a revolution.

At 25, when I was expecting Wyatt and I realized that I married a (self-proclaimed) retard, again, I found solice in the lyrics to this song from the 90s:

25 years and my life is still

Trying to get up that great big hill of hope,

For a destination.

I realized quickly when I knew I should

That the world was made up of this brotherhood of man

Or whatever that means..

And then tonight. While joking with someone who manages to take a light conversation to a completely different and much more harsh level, I come home, find my song, and blast it as loud as I can (with a sleeping husband and 2 sleeping kids):

Just to get it all out

What's in my head

And I, I am feeling a little peculiar

And so I wake in the morning

And I step outside, and I take a deep breath

And I get real high and I scream from the top of my lungs

WHATS GOING ON

I shoulda slapped him. But he's an Ok guy really I suppose. Just another redhead to deal with. I'm gonna make a no-redhead-club and escape there twice a week. I need to.

A realization of the worst kind...

2010-12-24T02:11:00.000-07:00

Mike has decided we're going to Mazatlan in March for our 3rd anniversary "Honeymoon". From now, that gives me roughly 12 weeks to get my body back in shape. How to overcome the depressing realization that while only being a size larger than in high school, I'm nowhere NEAR where I was at my best, my healthiest. That's the tough part for me though. I see where we used to be financially, and I know that everything accomplished has been my actions. I know that I could do the same thing with my fitness and my weight.

It's still depressing when you're staring at the scale, or looking in the mirror and knowing how far/hard you've gotta go to get back where you need/want to be.

A minor dose of reality...

2010-12-10T12:13:00.000-07:00

Time flies when you have kids. I rented Shrek 4 for Wy to watch last night and although his little body was so tired, he crashed halfway through it, Mike and I got a kick out of it. It kind of put our lives in perspective though.

Three years ago, we were still living it up. At the bar 3-4 (if not more) times a week after work. Paying bills if we wanted, but not out of necessity, and hardly ever fighting. Flash forward to three years later and there are a few things I've discovered.

1) I have yet to meet another man in the world more made for me than Mike. Do we argue/fight? Yeah. But honestly...I think I need an equally as passionate person as I am. I'm not saying we don't fight about stupid things, cause we do. I'm not saying Mike doesn't calm me down sometimes when I'm being irrational, cause he does. I'm saying that we understand in order for us to clear the air around here, sometimes we both lose our tempers. But after the screaming and yelling, there's no bitterness. No passive-aggressive BS weighing us down for the next 3 days/weeks. We scream, we yell, we get it over with, and it's done.

2) There's a saying "The Lord gives you one more child than you can handle" and I'm not about to disagree. Yesterday, Mike got home, I ran errands, he got home again, and we were on kid-duty. Between feeding, chasing, bathing, feeding (#2), comforting, and playing, we and they were all systems-go until 9:30 last night. At that point, Mike crashed, and I stayed up working for 5 more hours. I know our plan was/is to have more kids. At least one. Now? I'm not sure. Part of me is so very complete with Mike's mini-me (Wy) and my dad's look-a-like with my personality (Landon).

3) Being a parent is the toughest thing I've ever done in my whole life. This is tougher than surviving my car wreck, then graduating from college and high school. It's harder than working at a job 80+ hours a week. But here's the catch to it. Is it tougher than hell? Oh yeah. But then there are the payoffs. The 2 year old who's adding grey hairs at an exponential rate comes up, grabs a fist-full of blankets and just cuddles. The 8 month old lights up when he sees you first thing in the morning, then after his first nap, then after his second nap, and then after eating when he's physically exhausted but mentally wants to keep going. I'm not saying I'm gonna keep working from home. I'm to the point where I know I'll enjoy my kids more not being around them as much. But I'm gonna miss it. I'm gonna miss these moments.

Just Breathe...

2010-11-30T11:17:00.000-07:00

These kids are getting so big so fast, it makes my head spin. Landon's crawling all over, Wy's understanding so much now that it's just scary. I moved the bookcase out of their room in an attempt to keep him out of Landon's crib (unsuccessfully). I put it into the kitchen, and now he has a pertch to sit on while I cook. He sits up there, and watches me cook, reciting back to me "oot" (hot) and points at the stove.

Part of me knows that these moments and this time when they're small is so fleeting and that I should hang on to it. The other part wants them to get bigger so that the toddler phase is over and done with. I put up Christmas last week and Wy's been pointing at all the lights and ornaments oohing and awwwing over how pretty they are at night. As much as he's a raging monster, this kid is permanently engraved into my heart. All weekend, with Mike home, he'd come in and crawl into bed with me to wake me up when he was ready for me to be up with him. He'd pull at my eyelids, or play with my hair, until I finally bear-hugged him and snuggled him in closer.

Mike's slowly starting to realize that being a parent doesn't give you a day off. By Sunday, he was chomping at the bit to get out of the house and away from the kids for a bit. Made me laugh, like I don't feel like that 9 days out of 10. I'm getting ready (studying) to start a new adventure. It'll take me out of the house 5 days a week, and a few nights a week, but it's the right move for me right now I think. My brain tells me that I need to spend some time away from these kids so that I can appreciate the time I do spend with them more. My heart is scared that they'll love me less. Unnecessarily scared, I know, but the concern is there. How many milestones am I going to miss? How many times will they want or need me and have someone else to go to instead of me? As much as I hate being needed 100% of the day, it's reassuring.

"I saw her today at the demonstration..."

2010-11-20T03:19:00.001-07:00

I made a new blog today. I feel as beneficial as it is for me to have the years of my life journalized, there should be something specifically for my kids. Hence, monstersincslc.blogspot.com (I wanted to used whack-a-mommy: A phrased I coined during Wyatt's pregnancy (the child played whack-a-mole on my innards) and then through Landon's, however my concern for battered mothers in the world stopped me). I figured Monsters, Inc the best descriptor for letters to them so when they're older and starting out, they can see how bad they were and expect worse. Funny part though? I see this as being a way to make me feel better about those REALLY shitty days when I want to send one (or both) back, or request an upgrade. I see this as a way for me to vent.

I hope I can honestly impart to them the endless amount of humor they bring to my life; the happiness; the frustration. As exciting as my life isn't, the next few years are bound to bring astronomical changes, and honestly, I'd like for them to have a record of it for them...from my eyes, but with their concerns and best interests voiced rather than noted here for my own journalization.

I look back on posts I made here pre-marriage, pre-children, pre-graduation, and I smile at how simple things were; how complicated I made very easy situations. I'm hoping whack-a-mommy can be that for them.

Now really...I know you didn't kill me, but HOW?!?!?

2010-10-06T22:24:00.000-07:00

Landon turned 6 months old yesterday. He's so close to crawling it's flat out petrifying. Wyatt's a raging toddler with regular time-outs on the wall (memories from my childhood) and temper tantrums for a variety of reasons including but not limited to the following: not adding chocolate mix into milk, not turning on the movie he wants to see, me paying attention to Landon when Wyatt wants me to watch him do anything, making him stop brushing his teeth (only kid in the world that freaks out when I make him put the toothebrush away 30 minutes after he ran into the bathroom to do it). The list goes on.

My mom came over for a quick visit tonight. During a tantrum when Wy got to stand on the wall, I asked her how she survived my toddler years. Her response, so very like my mom: I put you in daycare and got a job to pay for it. Though this toddler thing with Wyatt is the hardest thing I've ever done in my whole life, I wouldn't trade it. It seems like our little family has it's own checks-n-balances system set up. Wyatt's a monster, he makes Landon cry, I calm Landon down while either explaining to Wy why he can't have what he wants or putting him in Timeout until he calms down enough to be able to listen, then I get the hugs and the cuddles from my "I'm too big for loves" toddler.

These monsters are my world. More often then not they're worth every minute without sleep or day full of stress.

A Moment of Clarity While Smushed Like Sardines...

2010-09-14T00:42:00.000-07:00

We have had a busy few months. Beginning the first week of August with our Fish Lake trip, our family in one way or another has been on the move pretty consistently. We had a weekend of peace after Fish Lake, then it was Mike's deer hunting trip, then Chris' bachelor party, then Labor Day weekend (and Wyatt's 2ns birthday party), this last weekend's trip to Jackson Hole, WY for Sarah's bachelorette party, and next weekend is the wedding. Two more weeks off and then we're looking at Mike's birthday but we'll pretend that in those 2 weeks we can recover financially and emotionally from everything prior.

'Tis the bachelorette party I have been formulating a post about and now get to express.

I realized beyond a doubt this weekend that Mike and I were/are meant to be together; collectively, we have grown up...and we have grown together. A weekend trip with the girls to celebrate Sarah and Chris impending marriage was going to be my relaxing time away from the organized chaos that has become my life. The final email regarding the trip was my first BIG clue that there would be no relaxing. Did I have a good time? Yes. Would I have enjoyed the same activities at my bachelorette party (if I had HAD one and not been preggers)? Probably not. Do I regret going? Not so much. Did I have fun? Yes. Did I realize that I am now that old fart who likes to go out one night and then stay curled up in a ball for 2 days recovering? Yes.

Another realization that made it easier to come home to my hubby was realizing that we have the same core beliefs. We have always been honest with eachother (no matter how uncomforable the conversation) regarding our expectations, limits, and compromises that we expect. If something comes up, we navigate around it. Not saying there isn't a screaming match or two while we get it worked out. In the end, we know where the other stands. And 99% of the time we have come to an agreement before bedtime (for whoever gets in there first).

I'm closer to 30 than 20 now. Combined with that fact and the loss of my appetite for drinking anymore, it's safe to admit aloud, in type: I. Am. Grown. Up.

high school never really ends...

2010-08-23T22:43:00.000-07:00

Moving to UT from VA at 14 was the biggest turning point of my life. You'd think it would be something prophetic like having kids or getting married, graduating high school or college. But for me, the biggest changes in my personality and choices happened with that move.

13 years later, with the wisdom of time and knowledge, I see why that move was so important in me becoming...me. From my own perspective, in VA I had a support group with which I'd grown up with. We went through our lives together, the pecking order the same from when we were 5 until I left, 9 years later. Then I moved here. Here, I was a no one. Here, there were already pecking orders which left me at the bottom rung of a very tall ladder. I was smart. I couldn't go take the classes I should have been taking because they were taught at the High School whilst I was banished away to another year of junior high. The drama queen position was taken, the nerd position was taken, the partying position was taken, the "molly mormon" position was taken. I was alone. With the exception of my mother. Who I really didn't like at the moment since she was directly responsible for where I was and why I was here.

Due to the beautiful invention of the internet, technology, and facebook, I've been able to reconnect with people from VA. I've also been able to reconnect with people from high school. It is in regards to the latter that I shall refer to for the remainder of my...self-expression.

After being found by one friend, we have since discovered that the 10 years since graduating high school have brought us closer to the same level. Same interests, same activities, same history since we left the hell-hole of Cottonwood High. Yet after an activity this evening involving many other people (and another person from high school), I find myself reminded of a group I wanted to be a part of, and now, 10 years later, am still on the outskirts, observing. I know who I am now, I know more about myself now that I did at 14. I know people I like, I have friends that I enjoy the company of being around (and hopefully, they the same). Yet, throw me back into a high school setting, with people that were there with me or more around me, during such a trying time of my life, and I find myself regressing back to that insecure, needy, and outcast-feeling teenager I was in high school. A personal fault? A regression of the worst kind? I guess the question then becomes something rather simple: do we ever actually outgrow high school? Or is high school simply just more baggage for us to carry around everyday of our lives like ex-boyfriends?

If only I had the words...

2010-08-10T16:08:00.000-07:00

Fish Lake was a triumph this year. The kids had a rough night the first night (honestly, that was poor planning from a parent's perspective) but Satuday night went MUCH better. Mike caught a purdy trout, Wy and I walked our loop, and Meadow and Doc were...useless. Sunday was the day though. Sunday morning, after getting Landon's bottle to him at 5:30, I waited for him to fall back asleep and as the sun was working its way over the mountains, snuck back into the tent and stole Meadow from Doc. We walked. We walked 2 miles. We walked 2 miles around the Lake Trail at sunrise. We walked until my soul was healed.

Any given day, before even having my first cup of coffee, I'm likely to get peed on, pooed on, barfed on, and cried at. All at the same time. But then there are the perks. I get to be there. I get to watch the smiles, the attempts at crawling, the temper tantrums, everything. Vacations are nice. Alone time with Meadow on that lake healed my soul.

What would I do if I didn't always have some amount of house chores to do? What would I do without 1, nay 2 screaming things demanding love, attention, patience, tolerance, discipline, nutrition, and comfort all day? I may still be the 3-5 mile exercise guru I once was. I may be up in them hills doing my very best to hit the top of whatever trail I attempt. Everyday. But one could live a whole life with woulddas and shoulddas and coulddas. Instead, I hold on to the beauty of the two boys I get to train. We're about a year from Wy being able to come up and hike with me. I'll give him til the summer he's 2. Landon can go visit Gramma. In the meantime, I live for the beauty of a 2 mile hike with Meadow. Healing a soul I didn't know was hurt.

An uumpaloompa and a monster...

2010-07-07T10:28:00.000-07:00

Mike and I have figured out two things: 1) He doesn't know how to make girls; thereby, I have learned how to cope with boys. More importantly, I'm discovering that I am much more qualified to have boys than girls. 2) We don't know how to have normal-sized things. We like big things. Landon's wearing 6 month clothes now, Wyatt's in 3Ts, and Doc, well doc's the size of a Shetland pony.

I did yard work yesterday. 3 hours I was in the backyard weedeating, mowing, and cleaning up dog poo (not necessarily in that order). Wyatt was with me step for step. He's such an active little thing. When the poo was thrown away and I was weedeating, he was there, pushing pulling and maneuvering the trash can whereever he wanted it. Once I started mowing, he was running and hiding with the dogs. I used to worry about them rough housing with Wy in the backyard, but they're both so protective, my worries are miniscule nowadays. After an hour outside with Dorothy while I ran an errand, we came in and we all crashed for 2 hours. When Mike got home, he ran in and out, up and down, and all-around with him until dinner time and the subsequent bedtime. But Landon's different. Landon chitters and talks, and eats, and poos. He's not nearly as coordinated as Wy, but already they balance each other in ways I'd only hoped. Wy's such a sweet kid, after dinner time, it's his brother time. He makes my hand tickle Landon, he tries tickling him himself, he kisses and he plays with him. At night, when Landon gets up for food, Wy's right there awake with him. He stays awake until Landon goes back to sleep, and he pets him if I let him.

I can only hope that they're relationship continues this way. I can only hope that they stay close through the years. Wy teaches Mike and I everyday how very lucky we are. God, this kid can make a girl laugh.

I feel fine with the sun in my eyes, the wind in my hair...

2010-06-17T22:53:00.000-07:00

...falling out of this sky
Doin' better than I thought I would
But nothing's ever as good as when you're on top.
Half-way up and over this rainbow...
...and as I drive I didn't think you'd follow
Just didn't know, the sky was this shallow."

~When You're On Top by the Wallflowers

I went on a car ride up Little Cottonwood Canyon today with Aunt Mikki. Seeing all the beautiful green, talking about all the awesome trails lost in those hills... We were on our way back via the freeway when I pointed out Pete's Rock and explained to Mikki how I'd come to love that rock in particular. During high school and the accompanying screaming matches with my mother, once I had my license, I'd leave home to cool off and somehow always end up there. A Maglite which was always in my car came with me, and no matter if I was in flip flops, or tennis shoes, I'd crawl my way to the top of that rock and look down over the valley. It's amazing how perspectives can change. Sitting up there on my happy little rock was generally enough for me to come to grips with whatever qualm I had. My mom claims Mt Olympus as "her mountain"; dad had his "scoop"; I have Pete's rock, that rock is a significant step to this place being my home.

After high school, when I was serving tables downtown until 2 or 3 in the morning, I gradually let my rock go. Until my car wreck. When I was in a wreck which should have (by all laws of physics/nature) left me paralyzed, and I walked away with simple back issues, I started driving back to my rock. I wasn't strong enough to crawl up to the top anymore, but even parking where all the high schoolers were making out, sitting on the hood of my car, having a few smokes and working out my issues made me feel better. Again, the rock phased out of my life as I started spending time at Greenhouse and making new friends there. About that time, I decided if I wasn't gonna make it to my rock, for whatever reason, I needed to be reminded to get the perspective I need in order to cope with life. Then I read the Little Prince. Then my stars were tattooed onto my foot. Many times in the subsequent 6 years have people asked what they mean. To those who don't really know me, I leave it at "personal reminder". For those who do, it's generally a more specific "I need them to remind me to take a breath and get the right perspective".

Mike and I had a whirlwind romance. In the course of 8 months we met, married, and were expecting Wy. You couldn't PAY me to repeat the first year of our marriage. Won't lie, it was hell. Even through the arguing and power struggle fights, the initial blow-up always ended with me calmly explaining why and for what purpose the thing had started in the first place. We learned how to communicate. We learned how to hear each other.

I wonder how many crappy times, shitty situations, horrible moods, and virtual disasters have been avoided or prevented with a small act of perspective in our relationship alone. Alls I'm saying is: sometimes it's good to remember the small flickers of light hiding in dark abyss of night. Sometimes its good to climb a rock so you can see the whole picture and not just the crappy climb.

I Miss Mayberry...

2010-06-11T00:43:00.000-07:00

I created my "I'm working well into the night, and Tweeter's up, so let's have happy music" playlist on iTunes yesterday. It's making me happy. So...in an effort to get stuff off my mind so that I can actually focus on work, I vent here.

For two years, I fought the Facebook monster. Didn't need it. Didn't want it. I have enough things distracting me 24/7. So, 3 weeks ago, I finally caved. Now having FB, I've realized that it's a mixed blessing and curse. It was awesome seeing an old friend from high school. Even more cool was being able to let our kids play together (or at least in the same area) while we chatted and juggled and caught up. It's awesome getting to see what old friends and aquaintences are up to now, some 10-15 years since I talked/saw/whatever them last. Which opens up a whole new can of worms...and a whole bunch more ghosts to come to terms with.

I am a professional disappear-er. Since the move from VA in 97, I have become a good disappear-er. Spent 4 years with the people I was in high school with. Since graduation (and until the FB beginning), I can count on one hand the number of people I've kept in touch with, hung out with, called, and chatted with for extensive amounts of time. Until now. After high school was college, when the real disappearing began. I'd bond with the group of friends belonging to whatever guy I was dating, then when we broke up, I'd move on. I had my work friends, and my bar buddies, but only 1 close friend that's been there since High School (poor, poor Tina).

I guess this whole family and growing up thing makes me miss my roots. Makes me wanna start hanging out with the people that I liked. Makes me face my own distance issues. Granted, FB has made me homesick to all hell. ALL of us that grew up together have kids. Kinda hurts my soul a little knowing that my kids won't get to grow up with their kids like we planned when we were 10 and 11. Comforts me a little knowing that I've got access to my roots now. Whether it be the family in the ward that I spent countless weekends babysitting for (talk about feeling old...the kids are both over 15 and one's in college-OUCH!!), or knowing that Keri has the big family she always wanted and told me I wanted (against my own opinion), or the rest of them-spread all over the country- just knowing they're there. A click and 5 minutes of typing away.

It actually makes me remember what the extensive family Mike has initiated me into is like when you're there from the getgo. I love the idea of talking to/hanging out with people I knew when I was younger, more un-wise, more un-ruly, and getting know them again. In some strange way, getting to re-know both the people I knew from here and knew from VA is finally starting to make me feel at home here; a fresh start without having to go anywhere. Probably 13 years too late, but I guess late is better than never, right?

A Little Weeble Wobble

2010-06-08T00:10:00.002-07:00

Landon's getting big. His poor little tummy makes his whole proportions look off skilter. He looks like a weeble-wobble. Wyatt has always had this long torso with little muscular legs (*thank you, thank you, we all know it's my genetics to thank for that one*). Tweeter, however, got the chicken leg part of the deal. Except now, his little tummy is so large, and his torso is so short (referring once again to the legs) that he oft appears...confused. His two month checkup was today. 12 pounds, 12 ounces, and 23 1/4 inches long. That's over 5 lbs, and 3 inches since this little thing got outta me and came into the great big world. He's starting to look around more, loves going outing and abouting, and as always, watches Wyatt like a hawk at every turn.

Quicky tonight. It's time for bed.

"I wanna keep playing, but my body won't let me..."

2010-05-10T22:53:00.005-07:00

How quickly the time flies. Tweeter, as he's endearingly been nicknamed, is 5 weeks old today, and last week Wyatt hit the 20 month mark. I wonder when the hell I grew up enough to have 2 strong, resilient boys of my very own. Sometimes, late at night (such as now) when the house is silent, save for the random wall kick by Wy, or the misguided snore by Mike, or the soft bird-call of Landon, I get lost in my own memories. I've been drifting towards the realization that I. Am. Grownup. Tonight, I find myself fading to the land of wonder. Wondering if the hopeless romantic in the mirror would have ever expected a husband as...well built for me as Mike is; if there's any way really to jump a few years into the future just to see what my boys turn out to be. Will Wy ever be content with the things he's already figured out how to operate? Will Landon be the orchestrator of my insanity while Wy's the instrument? What can I do now to make sure they know how lucky they are to have each other?

Wyatt already amazes me at every turn. Mike and I regularly remind each other that he would be so much easier to control if he were just a little less smart. He knows how to manipulate objects to fulfill whatever goal he's got stuck in his mind. Wanna steal daddy's container of cashews? Throw them in the trunk of his blue truck, close the seat and (awkwardly) ride it away...he'll never notice. Wanna get at those dishwater bubbles mommy keeps moving out of his way? Grab the empty box waiting for trash day, turn it upside down, and use it as a step stool. She laughs instead of getting mad. Wanna hide Landon's diaper wipes? Throw them in the stove (in the plastic container) so when daddy goes to make a party pizza, he permeates the entire house with the smell of burning plastic. And through it all, he grins. Toothful-wideass-big honkin-dimple showin grin. On bad days, I've decided if he hadn't already been a mainstay in my life for the last 20 months, it'd be a LOT easier to kill him. But even those days end up OK. He's that perfect age where teary eyed from being disciplined, he reaches up for loves-just to make sure mommy's still there.

As I tell Mike rather frequently: if someone had told me 5 (nay, even 3) years ago that I'd be married with two kids, working from home, and loving every minute of it, I would have called bullshit. But I do. These two monsters of mine make my life interesting. And if there's one thing I've never been able to stand, it's being bored. Think your life is becoming droll? Borrow Wy, he'll shake things up a bit...and that's in the first 15 minutes.

Toddler, Glee, and a Tweeter Too!!!

2010-05-04T12:08:00.005-07:00

It's really hard to believe that Tweeter is almost a month old. Still not really crying, he's the Tweet-ing-est thing you ever heard. It's been awesome not working (and I've finally stopped checking my email every day) but I'm going nuts what with a toddler and a newborn as my only source of communication companions a day. (Mike doesn't count~~ anyone ANYONE who knows him can understand that I am most definitely the talker out of the two of us.) In my boredom, two things have kept me (relatively) sane during the last month.

1) Glee. It's like High School Musical on crack. Witty, great guest stars (Idina Menzel made my heart happy with thoughts of Rent songs appearing on the next soundtrack), funny, and highly entertaining (the nusical numbers get stuck in my head to all hell, but it's worth it); I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have made the last month without a few Glee episodes saved on the DVR.

2) wii Fit Plus. I have finally accepted the fact that I will probably never again be the 5 day a week gym person I once was. Spending $100 on a wii Fit Plus, however is almosdt BETTER. I started 2 weeks after popping out Tweeter and 2 weeks later, I'm up to 3-4 times a week and LOVING it. I can do 6 minutes if that's all the monsters will allow, or a hour on days Mike's home and helping entertain small people whilst I enjoy myself with some exhertion. Not even focusing on weight loss (a month after having Landon, I'm down 26 lbs from the doc visit immediately before Landon's birth), the simple act of exercising is WELL worth the money and time. It flat out and simply makes it easier to deal with the little shits once I've taken a minor break to do something that uses up energy (and miraculously puts more energy into the tank).

Here are pics of my monsters this last month. Wy's getting so big and grown up it makes me laugh to think that he was EVER as small as Tweeter. Wy's hitting his terrible two's, but still no aggression towards Little Thing. He helps as much as he can at 20 months (bringing mommy binks, trying to stuff binks in Tweeter's mouth, bring mommy any and all bottles he finds, putting used diapers in the sink--somehow, that's the trash to him). Tweeter is flat out dependent on his big brother. I guess when I was little (this little) I couldn't be separated from my mom...after Wy's first sleepover post-Newbie, we learned that with Landon, it's not me...it's Wy he freaks out if he doesn't see/hear. All in all, the world is good, tired-but good.

Landon Joseph Werner

2010-04-05T21:36:00.006-07:00

Has it been a fun month so far!! All day April 1 I walked, cleaned and worked. April 2, Walked and walked and power walked and power walked. I'm pretty sure Tina and I set some records in Fashion place mall with all the walking. Decided to give up getting him out, so I left WY at home with Mike and went to darts with Chris and Neil. April 3, pretty relaxing and chill Saturday, until about 4pm. Contractions started getting more and more frequent, so about 6, we figure out how to juggle Wyatt, and Mike and I head up to hospital. After not having any changes over the 2 hours there, they give me perkocet, and sent me home.

April 4, contractions (the BIG OUCHY ones) start at 4am. Except they're every 45 minutes- 1 hour apart. There are minor contractions inbetween the monster ones, but the monster ones are the "changers" so they're the ones that have to be close in order to actually be admitted. By noon, Mike and I had gotten Easter dinner ready, arranged for Wy to stay with Grams over night (just in case), and started counting contractions separately. By 3pm, they were anywhere between 10 and 6 minutes apart. At 4:15pm, out of nowhere contractions went to 2-3 minutes apart, at a minute or longer a peice (so I was getting little if any break). At 4:45pm, I informed Mike that I was going back to the hospital, whether he drove me or if I took a cab. We got there at 5:15pm, by 6 I was admitted, because of the changes between Saturday night and 6 on Sunday night, they flat out said we were having this kid, and my epidural was started by 7. Then began the waiting.

For the entire 38 1/2 weeks I was pregnant with this child, I've known that he was a stubborn arse. Thinking all was good to go, we hooked me up to epidural machine with the hope that this child would be born by midnight (Wy was born on first day of football, it would only be right if this one was born on the first day of Baseball). HA! Yeah, by midnight, I was at a 6. By two, I was at an 7, and then we leveled off. Took until 4 am to hit an 8, then at 5:30 I was up to a 9 where I stayed for another 2 hours. At 7:30, we popped what remained of water bag (I had a high leak, however there was still a bubble of comfort between his head and me), and sure enough by 8 am, I was to a 10. We did 2 practice pushes, and then stopped until my OB got here. After waiting 20 minutes, we did two real pushes and Landon was here.

Here are his stats: Landon Joseph Werner 7 lbs, 3 oz, 20 inches, 4.5.10 at 8:33am.

Holy BIG Momma!!

2010-03-23T07:29:00.004-07:00

I'm there. I'm at 37 weeks. It's time. It's WAY time for this child to be out. I love being pregnant. The first 2 trimesters are the most-fun, enjoyable "feeling life grow" experience ever. But the third? No. With Wy I was miserable because of the discomfort AND the weather. The weather's been great this time. Am I still super uncomfortable? HELL YEAH! I still don't sleep, it hurts to move, and when I'm having braxton-hicks at 20 minutes apart, Mike's oh-so-supportive comment is "you're not having a baby today honey" (which, granted, I didn't, but that STILL isn't what I wanted to hear).

Mike's stepped up to the plate amazingly this time. He's helping with Wy a tremendous amount, helping get stuff while I'm on the couch and can't bring myself to move...again...at least for a minute. He's helping with the dogs, and the boy, and he calms newbie down when he's raging war on my innards in the middle of the night. He's been amazing the last few weeks. I'm just hoping newbie will put him (and me) out of misery here in the next few. I've got a visit to the doc this afternoon, and another appointment scheduled for next week (I'll be at 38 week and I might not be able to make him induce me, but I should be able to persuade him into doing everything else but induce me, hoping Newbie will get the hint and kick himself into gear).

Here's a pic from a week ago. I'm hoping to get another one done tonight/tomorrow for an even 37 week 'this is how it feels to have a 6 lb beach ball attached to the front of a medium woman's frame' follow through. Wy's adjusting so well, blowing raspberries on my tummy (still, the occassional head butt into Newbie isn't the best of feelings, but at least Wy's playing with him~ whether he knows it or not). The best part right now is all the other women in Mike's family that are expecting. His uncle's wife was due last Saturday (the 20th) and we're in a footrace to see which of us goes first, his cousin is due June 4th...all boys. Between now and June (about 2 months), Mike's mom will have a grandson, a nephew, and a grand-nephew. Mike's just stoked he may just have enough boys for a small basketball team just from the family here (not forgetting Wy as the point guard). I should be able to post from the hospital (while relaxing) so, look forward to pics coming in soon from there.

Newbie has a face...

2010-02-18T09:10:00.003-07:00

For Valentine's Day, Mike got me a session at Fetal Fotos (I made the appointment and informed him it's what he got me). SOOO happy to see that Newbie is a mini-me and not a mini-Mike. It'll be an interesting 55 days to wait to actually see how his face changes. I'm nearing the end of it though. I forgot how horrible this part is, even without the dead heat of the summer added in. I'm getting excited though. Here are some pics!!

...SO I'm a slacker...

2010-02-01T00:09:00.002-07:00

Ok, ok. Between the pregnancy, a raging toddler, a needy hubby that started night school, trying to work 40 hours a week, and two dogs...I've flat out run outta time to chat here. Here are the most important things of note since my last post in November...and yeah, again, I know, I'm a slacker...

1) Newbie. Not a girl. Oh no...HIM'S got boy parts. Due date is still set at April 14, he's still incredibly active, and he's got a lot of my temperament in him...which very well might not work out well for me in the next 75 days. He is a joy to feel grow, and we've got Wy trained to pat him in my belly still ("Wyatt, give brother loves"). Mike and I are working with two names we like, and holding off until he's born to decide for sure. I've spent enough time paying attention to him inutereo that either name will be perfect. (I'm really just waiting to see if him's another redhead for this house, or if I get my blondie.)

2) WyWy. Still the most charming little thing you've ever met. He and Mike's relationship is awe-inspiring and amazing to watch unfold. Mike walks through the door and brat-nose gets this huge grin. Then there's running, and hugging, and general happiness. He's into everything all the time. Testing boundaries, wanting things his way, choosing not to listen when he knows exactly what's being said. He's the center of all attention around our friends and family, and although he doesn't really understand about brother coming and growing, he reassures me almost everyday what a great big brother he's gonna be.

3). Mike. He's awesome. He started going to Salt Lake Community College at night Monday through Thursday with a quick 2 hour class Saturday morning. It's kinda tough not having him around as much, but in all honesty, it'll be easier for him to do this now than in 3/4 years when I'm done with kids and ready to get back to the office/start MBA graduate classes somewhere. Hasn't gotten laid off this year (thank GoD!!), and is enjoying poking my belly and laughing at all my daily pregnancy/16 month old/puppy whines and complaints.

4) Monsters, Inc. Doc's rounding out on 100 pounds plus now, still the biggest baby in the house, but the best thing for Wyatt and his little sharing personality. Wy walks right up to this huge head, begs him to take whatever ball he's holding (golf ball, toy ball, baseball, etc), then grabs it outta his mouth 10 seconds later (which Doc has absolutely no problem with). Both Meadow and Doc have gotten the idea about Newbie, and now instead of just Meadow protecting the boys' room, we've got 2 monsters to stand guard.

5) Me. I'm rounding out on 6 pounds of baby gain so far, and at 31 weeks, I'm not complaining!! Loving being a mommy (WAY more than I thought I would), stressing about work on a daily/weekly basis, and groaning at housework which never seems to stay done for longer than 15 minutes. I'm about ready to boycott sweeping/mopping anymore...with a 16 month old, cleaning doesn't matter, 10 minutes later, the entire place is trashed again.

Okies, that's about it for now. I will try hard to get on here soon and post some pics of Newbie and Wy.

"I didn't frighten ya, did I?"

2009-11-06T21:40:00.004-07:00

A few quickies before I fall into slumberland this beautifully warm Friday night in November.

1) This new little 17 week embryo is WAAAAAY more active than Wy. He moved. A lot. He destroyed my gallbladder. That which I thought was heart burn was instead gallbladder-torture. She (we hope) moves more. Went in for 16 week doc appt on Tuesday, and OB was SERIOUSLY chasing her with the ultrasound wand as she ping-pong-ed from side to side of me. She's found my psyatic nerve (awesome) and she doesn't like me sitting for long. Standing, walking, bouncing, chasing WyWy, and even laying down...all OK. Sitting? No. Not longer than 15/20 minutes at a time, that is.

2) Wyatt was the cutest little moo-cow in the WORLD!! He didn't pick/poke at the costume. And after we wore the moo-cow outfit for a few hours, Mike and I decided to make a quick stop at another party so Wy got to be a "Chucky-doll" (it was quick and easy).

3) Doc got fixed. Which, of course, meant Doc and Mike cuddled for hours (Mike petting him on the couch: "it's ok bud, you don't need to make babies...even though they'd be good-boy puppies just like you"). It's not right. Immasculating one male (all 83 lbs of him) seemed to make every man in a 5 mile radius feel his pain. Not right. Not at all.

Ok, ultrasound for newbie is November 19. Will post w/ good pic and inform all of gender (fingers crossed for a girlie!!). G'Night.

A Moment in Time...

2009-10-22T06:49:00.002-07:00

I've discovered a beautiful time of day. Actually, it happens twice a day. Once in the morning, and then again at night. Roughly 9:15 for both. At 9:15 in the morning, generally I'm on my first or second cup of coffee, the child is just waking up and smiling and goofy and sleepyheaded still. That's the moment I sigh, realize how very blessed I am, and get all the strength and courage I can muster to face the rest of the day ahead of me. Then 9:15 hits again...except at night. Normal nights, 9:15 brings the fading whimpers of the terrorist whilst he drifts off into slumberland, a quick 15 minutes cuddling with my honey on the couch, and either the realization that I still have 3 hours of work ahead of me, or I have about 30 minutes until I'm down for the count. It's the circle of my life right now. 9:15 at both ends of the clock make me grateful for the life I live, the child that makes me laugh everyday, and the hubby who can just look at me and make me smile. Not very many people have one time twice a day that makes them feel so loved.

My goodness, how the time passes...

2009-10-07T10:41:00.003-07:00

It's hard to believe he's a year old. 13 months today to be exact. Hard to believe when I see little newbies that he was ever that small. I'm at 13 weeks today. He's starting to notice my growing belly; he enjoys smacking it when he gets the chance. Big ego booster for me, but it makes me happy that he's as active and smart as he is. Everyday these little ones make me so proud. The one in me is as active as Wy...she hits, kicks, thumps, and moves around tremendous amounts of the time. She's more picky than he was about food, but what else can you expect after having the "intro to babies" child for the first shot? Mike's coming into his own as a dad. That relationship makes me laugh each and every day. Mike had three days off last weekend, though he spent most of them saying 'no' to the child, he got home on Monday excited and happy to see his mini-me. Mike wants Wy to talk so bad, he cheers him into it everyday at least once. I had to remind him last night that he stared me down at Chucks for at least a few weeks before his mom got involved, thus his son is exactly like him: he'll talk when he's ready. He's just not ready yet. Here's a pic from on his birthday. My little cheese-ball being the pro cheese-ball he is.

Two for the Price of One...

2009-07-02T00:13:00.002-07:00

I got some disappointing new this week. Thanks to my charming husbands graveyard schedule, he's tired all the time and his level of exhaustion is DIRECTLY related to his irritability. Not like mine but seriously, like exponentially related to his level of exhaustion. Chris stopped by after Mike had gone to work and I try to vent to him. Now, going back slightly, know that Chris and Mike have been best friends since they were 8. Yeah, Chris has 20 years on me for knowing what I'm getting into quite frequently regarding my loving man. I refer to Chris as Mike's first wife (to them both).

SO back to present tense, I'm trying to vent to Chris and I get a "yeah, I coulda told you that when he started working nights...I'm surprised it took more than a week for everything to pop up." Now, I realize that Mike will never be able to talk to me the way he talks to Chris. I realize that Chris and Mike are more and more like JD and Turk from "Scrubs" every day. Even when Mike joined the Marine Corp, Chris was right behind him. They have literally chased eachother across the world. When Wy was a newbie, I would hand him to Chris (his GodFather) and tell him that this was the man he'd be competing with for his father's attention for the rest of his life. But the benefit of this situation really works to my advantage. I have someone to vent to. I have someone that I can say: My husband was a royal ass. And I don't get criticized, I get empathy. Maybe that's all a successful relationship needs though. Maybe, having people within the relationship (or at least casual observers) to vent to and to listen to you, and to remind you that you really do love him despite his ass-ish behavior.

If I hadn't had Laurie through the entire pregnancy (or at least a large portion of it), I'm not sure I'd be here. I was miserable. I was hormonal. And, in general, I was pissed off. Since Wy, I still have Laurie, but it's still nice knowing that there's someone else out there who's put up with cranky-butt tired Mike. It's nice being reminded that he'll be back to himself as soon as he catches up on sleep (kinda like I returned to normal-ish after the child). Even better, is knowing I can always call Chris and tell him that my hubby needs someone else to talk to (other than me) and ask him to come over and know that 9 times outta 10, he'll be here within a few hours to distract Mike. The best part though, is that I have someone with 20 years experience to learn from.

A Note on Television...

2009-06-15T18:17:00.003-07:00

Mike makes fun of me for all the television I watch/listen to. Remembering back on high school, on starting out in Salt Lake at the tender age of 14 (and the subsequent time at home watching shows like Buffy, Dawson's Creek, Scrubs and the like) have had me reviewing the beauty of a good television show and the good writing that goes along with it... to quote:

" You can’t summarize character development in a recap or in pop-up facts. You need to live with his characters, get to know them and their quirks, before the emotional range and depth of his subtexts become palpable. That’s why tears spring to my eyes when Jonathan presents Buffy with her prom award; that’s why I burst out laughing with Giles when Buffy confesses that she’s been having sex with Spike; that’s why I felt genuine horror and panic when Caleb screwed his thumb into Xander’s eye socket. That’s why the words “I am a leaf on the wind” are absolutely gutting to a Firefly fan." http://notaplanetanymore.com/2009/04/30/joss-whedon-and-the-future-of-dollhouse/

Which brings me to a new show. All last summer, I scoffed at the new vampire show on TV. I have DVR, I have the ability to record Angel every morning (3a-5a) and re-watch every episode whenever I want to. But I don't. I love those mornings I find myself awake at that god-awful hour and while relishing in the amount of uninterrupted work I can accomplish, I can listen/watch a show that brings me joy. Maybe it's the unwavering balance of Joss Whedon shows of the flawed character what still maintains an undiscriminate quest for good. Kind of a "I'm not perfect, I make mistakes, but when it comes down to it, I will always be on the side of good in that eternal fight against evil." There aren't many shows like that anymore. However, True Blood is turning into a new obsession for me. There are flawed characters, there are bad things happening. More often than not however, the love and kindness demonstrated by other characters balances it out. Even the "evil" Sheriff Eric, he makes a girl laugh. If by no more than a single look, or his appearance at a critical moment in the episode with hair-dye-foil-strips in his hair and the salon "coverall" on just in time to smack down the minor cast member which the audience had wondered all episode "when will this asshole just die". It's gonna be interesting seeing if the cast and crew has the sustainable power that Buffy and Angel did. Even more interesting will be the ability of fans to MAKE it stick.

when mommy gets a vacation now, it needs to be 2 days long...

2009-03-29T13:10:00.002-07:00

Mommy went on vacation Friday night. Last week was a nightmare. Wy got dropped off at Gram's house, the doggies were all taken care of, and mommy went out TO DRINK. There was no messing around. 6 shots of Jaeger, 6 or 7 pitchers of beer (shared with the hubby, of course), and a friend to drive us home. The only problem is this: now, when mommy gets a night off, she REALLY needs the entire next day to recover. It took until about 8 last night for me to not hurt all over, feel nausous, or feel like my brian was gonna explode everytime Wy talked with the slightest higher pitch in his voice. Since today's our one year anniversary, Mike was a gem and let me sleep in until 11 this morning (with the exception of a breif phone call from Dorothy for BS reasons this morning). He made breakfast and is helping tremendously with Wy. My only question is this: where was all this nice-ness when I NEEDED it yesterday? Beggars can't be choosers though. And DAMN that breakfast was AWESOME!!

A Constant Stuggle...

2009-03-18T21:47:00.002-07:00

Work has started to crack down. I'm forcing myself to go back to hitting 40 hrs a week, no nothing else. The problem is...it's a constant inner battle. There's always more laundry to do. More dishes that need to be washed. More cuddle time with Wy while he still wants to be cuddled. More poop from the puppy to clean up. More cleaning that I'm falling behind on.

I'm not complaining. I love my job. I love the freedom to work any hour of the day or night. I love being able to be home to watch Wy figure out new things. I love being home to train (or try to train) a 10 week old half bulmastif/half rottweiler named 'Doc". I love watching Wy laugh at Meadow and Doc run all over the place. I just wish this house would clean itself, the laundry would wash itself, the dishes were automatically clean after eating dinner, and most of all that the dogs just didn't poop...ever. This is the first week I've been as close to my goal since the week before I had Wy. That's 7 months. 7 months I haven't been doing what I know and expect from myself. It's gonna be a long and hard spring, but hopefully come summer I'll be all caught up and all used to a new schedule. I just wish it wasn't so hard to force mself to pay attention to the computer when I can see all the other stuff that I should and could be doing. I guess it all boils down to one thing: I wanna be superwoman when I grow up.

A Note on Perspective...

2009-02-21T01:25:00.003-07:00

I started this rant last Saturday and after a week of contemplation, I'm ready to let it rip. It's interesting to me how very different each individuals perspective can change the entire mood of a situation. Where Mike can see an action as having little or no consequence, I see it as a personal attack on me and our family. From there the situation escalates to trash-talking about my inadequacies as a wife (who according to some, has her husband on a very short leash). The point I wanted to make tonight is how quickly those perspectives can change once the other side of the story is heard. While I may have over-reacted (wow. I'm a female, imagine that) once the entirety of the situation was explained to the trash-talkers, all of a sudden I'm not such a bad guy anymore. By having a 30 second mention of the situation in a non-aggressive way, the whole thing was handled and explained so that everyone who had an opinion about their own observations could understand why they saw what they saw. The best part of this whole thing ended up being how what everyone else saw as a big deal was nothing to me and Mike (which, in a lot of ways makes me want to tell those with their opinions to worry about their own BS and moments of denial, but I'll save that for a drunken rant when I've had way too much of something for my own good). Besides the little example above, there's other moments of defining perspectives that have popped up this week that are worthy of a little mention.

He didn't understand. For two months, almost to the day, he didn't understand why I wanted him home. It's kinda like when I was pregnant and kept saying "hun, lets just stay home and enjoy eachother without a screaming thing to worry about" and he didn't want to, so we'd go out. Then Wy comes, and after playing "Pass-The-Crying-Baby" one night he says "ya know, I kinda wish we'd spent more alone time while you were pregnant with Wy". This is when I look at him dead in the eyes, glare for a minute, roll my own, and remind him that not only am I cute, but he did marry me for my brains too. So for two months, I've been fighting to have him stay home. Then today, when he realizes he's going back to work for 5/10s a week, an hour away from home and the only time he's gonna see Wy awake is for possibly an hour during the week and then weekends, he looks all sad and depressed about it. Somehow, during the last 2 years we've been together, I've learned how his head works. I've realized the pattern to the craziness that is his mental process. That being said, I try and prevent these sad and depressed looks from popping up. Yeah, I scream, I yell, and I fight to get him to just listen to me and prevent the sadness. He hasn't learned to see that perspective yet. It'll come...with time I'm sure (I hope).

With Tiff and Autumn staying with us for a short while, it's been awesome to watch Wyatt's adaptations to living with another small squirmy thing. The flip-side to that is he sees all the attention she gets (for good reason), and he starts mimicking her for the same result. When Tiff and Autumn left for a little while the other night, he attempted his new 'trick' and was met with stunning disappointment. Mike and I sat on the couch (making sure he was OK and just being a whiny ass), laughed at him and refused to reinforce his behavior until he was either talking at us (and not screaming) or just being quiet again (bouncing and smiling). At that point, we talked back to him, praised him for being a good bouncy boy and hugged him when we walked by. He hasn't pulled the trick again. I know we have rough days ahead (I mean, really, it's been TOO easy to this point). Especially with Mike working 50 hours a week almost an hour from home, the chances of me having a "boy-overload" is quite possible and highly likely on the bad days. But the saving grace is that he wants to learn. He wants to know we're there and paying attention...even if he's not being held and coddled all day everyday. And best of all, he enjoys his independence. He's happy to talk to me from his bouncer, and play with his toys on his tummy, and when he's tired- fight sleep with every fiber of his being. But for him, it's his independence that makes it all the more fun when he is in cuddly mode...for him and us.

he's got personailty...

2009-02-15T10:39:00.006-07:00

There's one thing I've learned about this 5 month old that's flat out undeniable: he's definitely got personality. He learns so many tricks each week, I can't imagine not being here to catch them all. He rotates now. He's got all the elements necessary to crawl, but he just hasn't put them all together yet. When Mike feeds him his solids for the day, he's got food everywhere. When I feed him, he's relatively clean and he doesn't throw a fit when feeding time's over. Empty baby food jars with a few almonds in them are a great distraction from the fact that he's not eating anymore. He loves that damn bouncer...if for no other reason than he can twirl and chew on the accompanying stars. My favorite thing for sure lately is his inevitable lunge for Mike's beer cans. He sees them, and flat out reaches for them. Mike keeps moving the cans away but I laugh, remind him that he created that monster, and let Wy lean and reach.

After the startling events of the last few weeks (my emergency gallbladder removal, the discovery that my liver is 50% bigger than it's supposed to be, and the instructions to speed the pregnancies up so we don't end up in a continuous fix than re-harm liver circle), it's been easy to take Wy's good nature for granted. He's discovered that weekends and sleepovers at gramma's house are actually fun (everybody should be doted on like that every few months- the world would be a better place). He loves kicking mommy's healing belly. But most of all, the only time I have to get up in the night now is to flip him over and re-bink him. Mike and I are well adjusted to the concept that with Wy, we got the "Intro to Parenting" kid. But it scares us at the same time: if Wy is this easy, how bad is the next kid gonna be?

Waxing Philosophical

2009-01-22T19:44:00.003-07:00

Hearing from an old friend has made me think about all the change in my life. More specifically over the last 5 years. Forever, I wished I could see into the future, just five or ten years, find who I was supposed to be with, see my kids, see my life and then be able to make whatever adjustments I felt necessary to better the future. Now though, I see all those timultuous times of horrible breakups, lost friendships, waning beliefs, and soul searching has led me to where I'm supposed to be. I could not imagine being with anyone else other than my husband. We are so very different and so very alike in the important ways. I'm an instant rager, he's a calm person that only freaks out after careful prompting. He's a sports guy what likes golf and football and throws things at the TV when the sport isn't going his way. I'm the movie buff that'll watch the same movie 50 times until I can quote it backwards and forwards. He is the ying to my yang.

My wish was always to be in an office, making the big bucks for my big ideas and work ethic. Now I'm working from home, caring for our four-month old and marvelling everyday at how fast Wyatt grows, watching his personality develop. Does it make me want to pull my hair out somedays? Hell yeah. Other days though, the good day, they make up for every ounce of bad in a previous one. Does it drive me nuts squeezing small little hours of work in at night and in the early morning to try and hit my weekly 40? Oh yeah. But I get to clock in and out 50 million times a day to care for the monkey-shit. Is there an office in my future? Probably, once we're done having kids for me to tend during the day. But for now, I get to stay in pajama pants, wear Mike's slippers, and keep my hair in a knot 8 days out of 10. I get to see Wy's firsts: when he finally got the hang of rolling over, or when he finally accepted the fact that frozen washcloths with tylenol on them are a great way to stop the hurting from those three bastardly teeth, I make him laugh 'cause I know how to. I know his moods, I know his cries (not that there are many of those).

I guess it comes down to being surprised at how life turns out. So many times, I thought life as I knew it was over, and beyond the heartbreak and disappointment, I've found my niche. I've come to that point where stuff has just worked out the way they have. I'm also to the point where I wouldn't have changed anything cause even one thing different wouldn't have led me to this point. Every broken road, every terrible decision, every broken heart, every want that I was devastated that I didn't get, has led me to my husband, son, dog and home.

He's a lover, not a fighter...

2009-01-22T11:30:00.002-07:00

So kids, we've reached three major milestones. First, he rolls. Back to front (either way) is his favorite and then he whines. He's upset that he can't reach Meadow, upset that he can't move towards his toys, and then he's upset because he's so upset he forgot how to roll back. Second, we've got three bottom teeth all coming in at once. There's the canine he's had since 2 months, and then the 2 bottom ones all fighting for peak-age first. He's handling it quite well. Still sleeps through the night most nights. Third, he has the coordination to beat the hell outta daddy and not just mommy anymore. He reaches for Mike, grabs his face, pulls his nose, and punches his chest. Mike doesn't think it's fair. I do and I laugh. More pics later.

"I like big-boy food too!!!"

2009-01-04T19:51:00.010-07:00

It's almost like he's growing up directly in front of my face. From his growing emotional range (man is he seriously pissed at that bunny) to his growing daily activity levels (we try and slow him down, but he's having none of that) he already seems a monster (as in size) since we brought him home from the hospital. It's begun. We have started feeding our month old baby food a few times a day in place of those few bottles. Here are the pics from the first real one (with Dad feeding him). I love this high chair. He seems to sincerely like sweet potatoes, that's for sure. The other new trick he has is rolling over. If he's at it for a while on the floor playing with his gym, he'll figure it out and flop right over. The best part is he is definitely more adamant about moving himself towards Meadow. I now live in fear for Meadow's serenity once this child starts crawling/walking. The good part? At least once he is crawling/walking, Meadow and he can pay attention to each other and possibly give mommy a break. That'd be groovy.

New Year's Resolutions

2009-01-01T22:16:00.003-07:00

1. Spend less time finding things wrong with my life and enjoy the terriffic aspects: how hard my husband makes me laugh, how much like his dad my son is, and how well we really do have it.

2. Scrapbook: write down and notate Wyatt's firsts so I can actually scrapbook them. Spend at least one weekend a month scrapbooking so I can pretend to get caught up. Spend $5/week and get pics developed so I can do it a page at a time if I need to.

3. Remind my hubby all the time how much I love him. Sometimes, we get so caught up in the things going on around us, and the silly mundane aspects (the game of pass-the-crying-baby) that really won't matter 25 years in the future, when we're retired and flying south for the winter just the two of us.

4. Make a stronger attempt to have all 40 hours in by Friday night so I can spend the weekend with my family and not distracted by work issues and problems.

That's enough for now...considering the New Year's day it's been, I think the four I've come up with are pretty dang respectful.

when you're worried, and you can't sleep...

2008-12-28T12:40:00.005-07:00

"When you're worried and you can't sleep,

just count your blessings instead of sheep

and you'll fall asleep

counting your blessings"

With the surprises this holiday season, it's been rather interesting how much I've been looking to old crazy movies for inspiration. So, going along with that, when Mike was informed on Christmas Eve that he was gonna get to spend lots of time at home, seeing as how he was being laid off, I sighed thought of how much stuff was gonna get done on the house, and still managed to try and enjoy my holiday. Days earlier, I had recorded White Christmas (Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney just gush holiday spirit). So when we finally got home from our adventures on Christmas day, I started my movie. Imagine my surprise when simply hearing Count Your Blessings made me feel better. Then when Mike got a call from Neil Saturday morning, and was gone for 2 and 1/2 hours, $100 richer, and then went and worked for Rick for a few hours, I realized we're going to be just fine. It'd be easy for me to freak out and stress, it really would. Instead, I'm taking another route. I'm taking it easy. Did I spend $200 on groceries to pack the fridge and freezer? Oh yeah. Did I get everything we'd possibly need for the next few weeks? Oh yeah. Did I spend a little extra $ for a few random things for Mike and me? Uh-huh. Am I worried about how we're gonna make it though before he starts working again? No. We've survived worse, we'll survive this too. And when I start having doubts? I count my blessings: my husband, my really cool kid, a warm-ish house, and working vehicles. We're gonna be just fine.

"But baby, it's cold outside..."

2008-12-01T08:31:00.003-07:00

My mom came over for some one on one time with Wy on Saturday. Considering I worked all day Saturday and Mike was in charge of child, we went out for an hour or so just the two of us. Yeah, we spent the last $15 extra dollars we had, but it was worth it. Grams had just fed the child when we walked through the door. Since Thursday, Wy's figured that if he fights sleep, he gets to stay up a little bit longer before surrendering to the great monster of sleep. What he hasn't figured out is that if he does fight it, he generally sleeps a little bit longer than normal. So he's fighting sleep on Saturday and after my 2 rum and cokes, I was on the verge of sleep myself. I fed him an extra ounce of food, and we went into his room to the dark and bounce him to sleep. I'm holding him in my arms, bouncing him, and "Baby, It's Cold Outside" starts running through my head. Mike comes in with me bouncing and swaying with the boy, singing the song to Wy with Wy's eyes getting heavier and heavier. Mike comes up behind me, hugs me and sways with us for a minute before telling me he loves me and heading to bed.

After Wy was finally down, I head to bed and while flipping stations to find something to crash to, White Christmas (with Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney) is on. Between "Baby, It's Cold Outside" and White Christmas, it's safe to admit that it's become that time of year. It's my favorite, despite my distaste for cold weather and white fluffy stuff. It's the time where we get to hang out with varying family members most nights, stay in where it's warm, watch good old-school movies, and cuddle. It's the time for crazy people at every store you wander into, mad rushes at the ATMs, and check-out lines that go to the back of the store. It's the time for Santa, and all eight reindeer, candles, candy canes, cookies, and cheesecake with strawberry topping. It's this time of year that immediately preceeds 3 am waking for Santa's presents, laughing at my dad for his stupid Santa baseball hat, eggnog, white Christmases, and pictures. This year is looking to be brighter than normal if for no other reason than I have a little one now. He won't understand anything. Santa is going to be a mystery. Stupid Christmas sweaters worn by stupid little dogs (my dad has become one of those ridiculous people what buy sweaters for his animal) to keep them warm from the cold. But he has his Pooh Bear Christmas outfit. That's probably one of the first things I got for him. Wy, by no choice of his own, just became my favorite thing about Christmas. Watching him experience everything for the first time is well worth the energy. It's gonna be a great month.

I've been waiting...

2008-11-26T12:09:00.002-07:00

I know I've been procrastinating on posting lately. There's a reason. This is post 300. Sad to admit that I've spent so much time in the last 5 years posting on here, editing, changing formats, and just writing to make it to the 300 mark. But, for the 300th post, I wanted to make it count. I wanted to make it important. I knew it was going to be a long one. I got an email from Tiff yesterday, commenting on how all of her friends are either pregnant, or trying to be, and she asked if I had any advice to share. Being myself, of course I did. My six tips for the soon-to-be parents are as follows (please note that this is as much for myself to reference during future pregnancies as to entertain those that spend time reading my babbling):

1) Relish the pregnancy. You will never have complete solitude w/ your honey for extended periods of time ever again without worrying (about whether baby ok, about whether sitter ok, and about whether you'll make it home on time, and you flat out miss the squirmy thing). Know you'll be crazy (those baby making hormones are killers), and know that you're life is about to change- for the better. FOREWARN YOUR HUNNY THAT IT'LL BE OVER SOON (but don't tell him that those hormones don't really go away until baby is 6 months old or so--save that for the first baby-blues moment when he's a dumbass-and he will be IN SPADES- it's the guy way).

2) When they ask in the delivery room if you want a mirror say yes. It gives motivation to get the child out. It's a visible goal (while not necessarily the prettiest of things to watch). Of all the friends I've had, they all said the same thing, and not one of us have had the pushing stage go over 30 minutes, and considering that's not the fun stage of delivery, it's a good thing.

3) Relish the first 2 months of baby not talking/cooing/anything other than grunting. Especially if you're a chatterbox and he hears you all day. Wanna know what happens? Once he actually finds his voice, it doesn't stop. At all. It's all day long. Especially if he feels the need to tell you off, cause he will and you have no idea what he's trying to tell you off about, but you KNOW the tone (if for no other reason than you've USED the tone frequently- especially during the last trimester of pregnency).

4) Start buying diapers in the last trimester (either a case a month, or a pack a week). The first 2-3 months of baby are crazy enough. Don't get stuck with 3 diapers left and 4 days til payday. There is NO way those 3 diapers can make that stretch of time. Costco is a beautiful thing for wipes. Hold off on diapers from there until at least 2 weeks before due date when all baby showers/etc are over (and then buy depending on how many diaper packs you currently have on standby). And DON'T get upset when you get 4 packs of diapers at baby shower: THEY ARE A GODSEND escpecially if you forget where you put them all until you are down to that last 3 , 4 days before payday and are saved by someone you were swearing at for giving a lousy present at your baby shower. (Try and have ONE pack of NB diapers, the rest, make size 1s.)

5) PICTURES. The old saying is definitely true: Next thing you know, they're 18. He's almost 3 months old. Time FREAKING FLIES. Take pictures whenever you can.

6) Buy newborn clothes sparingly. You get tons of those baby showers, grandparents, etc. Buy 3/6 and 6/9 month while on clearance/sale from this season. It's incredibly likely that he'll be in 3/6 month clothes quicker than you think and those 0/3 and NB clothes get ziplocked away until the next kid. Wy didn't even WEAR all of his NB clothes. He outgrew them too fast. But then, my child is comfy in 3/6 month clothes at 2 months. (Mike and I are betting on 6'4" and 250 at 18- he's just a big kid who likes food).

Let's see. What else was I going to comment on today? Ah yes, the moment of realization. We put Wy down in his crib last night. He lasted until 4, when he started talking to his stuffies. The crying started at 5, and he was back in his bassinet by 5:30. Granted, it's going to take some time to get used to, but he's just too damn big for that bassinet anymore. It makes my heart hurt.

I'll have pictures to post on Friday. We get to go to Gramma Carole's house for Thanksgiving dinner and I'm sure we'll get tons of pics there. Otherwise, it's been fun and I'll try and be better at posting next month.

"now I see a family where there once was none..."

2008-11-05T14:08:00.003-07:00

Mike and I had a fight before I found out I was pregnant. It was the night he proposed, and we'd gone to play darts after. We'd been fighting about money and how we had none. Keep in mind that in hind sight, I'd been pregnant at the time and just not known about it. So we're playing darts, and this song came on the radio at Jimax. I lean over to him and sing the words into his ear: "and even though we ain't got money, I'm so in love with ya honey, everything will bring a chain of love; and in the morning when I rise, bring a tear of joy to my eyes and tell me everything is gonna be alright". He looked me in the eye, smiled my smile, called me a dork and gave me the most enclosing hug ever. We had a good night last night. All of us were happy. Wy went in and out of sleep, I made dinner, Mike and I joked around, and we laughed. We laughed hard. It's hard to think that a year ago, we were talking about getting to this place. This place where we're married and we have a family. We did it. We are here. Despite all the arguments, lifestyle changes, bull-headedness, and tears, we are here. And we are happy.

Think Different

2008-11-04T21:57:00.004-07:00

"Here's to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square hole. The ones who see things differently. They're not fond of rules. And they have no respect for the status quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them. About the only thing you can't do is ignore them. Because they change things. They push the human race forward. And while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do."

Somehow, an Apple commercial from 1997 seems awfully fitting for tonight (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4oAB83Z1ydE). The country, in all it's faults and problems, has elected a black President shouting for change. His cry is something that resonated with a majority of the country. I tend to agree with the need for change. It's not right for us to be fighting a war (or 2) when our own country is in need of repair, is it? It's not right for the financial well-being of our country to be dependant on foreign relations and affairs, is it? Would the policies we practice today, if applied 150 years ago, have propelled our country to the World Power it is today? Today is most definitely a day to Think Different.

made to feel the way that every child should...

2008-11-03T22:51:00.002-07:00

This is one funny kid. About the time I hit my second trimester a switch went off in my head that instantaneously turned me into a morning person. Now that he's here and coming into his personality, I know why: he's a morning person. Lately, if he's not hungry, he'll wake up and just chill in his basinette. Not crying, not whining, just laying and practicing using his hands, eyes wide open, babbling to himself. It's awesome to watch. From 9 to about noon, he's wide awake, all smiles and excited to see what fun thing he gets to do. He's good to chill on the couch, play with his play gym, or sit in his swing and doesn't ever really whine about whichever I choose for the day. Noon or so he eats again, then naps for a little while, and just watches life happen. That's when we run errands, or when I clean the house, or when I squeeze in as much work as possible. 3 until 10 pm is a completely different story. He eats, he cries, he plays a little, he watches his dad and plays with his arms, he reaches for his dad's face, and he cuddles. Nighttime is my cuddlebug time. More specifically, it's when I'm working and dad's in charge and I take 5 minute breaks to steal cuddles.

I texted an old boss about maybe picking up some night shifts, and sighed deep relief when he didn't have anything for me. I can do the time away thing when the grandparents take him, or Laurie, or its a set plan and I know that I'm going to get him back. The premise for the idea Mike and I are batting around is that pregnancy is something you never recover from. Today, more than most proved my point. He's screaming for food while I'm working and even though I can hear him with my earphones in, I had to force myself to let Mike handle it. I willed myself not to go in and take charge. I secretly love the 'spit-bink-out-on-the-couch-so-mom-can-give-it-back' game. He grins when I catch him starting it. I never thought of myself as a stay-at-home mom. I'd go freaking insane if I didn't have work to do, I'll be honest, but as crazy as it is for me to clock in and out 15 times a day, it would be incredibly difficult for me to go to work outside of home at this point. The days drag on, but time's flying by. He'll be two months at the end of this week. Wasn't it just yesterday I was whining about getting the active moving thing out of me? Wasn't it just last week that Mike and I got married? I guess I just don't want to miss anything. I've been teased with a 'welcome to motherhood' comment or two, and truthfully, I think it's fitting.

Four Bottles and a Blessing...

2008-11-02T18:32:00.002-07:00

Winter officially hit today. Wind all morning, rain most of the day and a forcast for snow tonight. Only fitting that Wy got his blessing today. It was interesting watching and listening as my dad announced his name (after correcting the bishop as to my son's gender), and blessed him with a quest for righteousness. All day, I'm thinking about that term: righteousness. I look at my husband who (modestly) has been to the worse places in the world and survived a gunshot to the head (jokingly, I tease him for his hard-headedness). I look inwards at the silly choices I make: telling the cashier at Costco that there's a case of V8 juice under the dog food and struggle with the term 'righteousness'. Be a good person? Live out God's plan? Deliberately choose right when tempted by wrong? 'Righteousness' is such an undefined term. I see the checklist in my head as Wy grows up: Does he know the concept of the Golden Rule? Check. Ten Commandments? Check. OK...what else am I missing?

This little guy can melt a room with one smile. He's so good natured anyway, it's hard to accidentally upset him. Mike and I wondered a long time ago how we'd gotten so lucky. Today proved this more than most. Fighting sleep, he still didn't really make a sound through the entire sacrament service. Even for the (almost) 2 hours we were at my parents after. A little fussing when he wanted to change positions, but still- no crying. He smiles and laughs when you change his bum. He LOVES football (which is still a very very VERY good thing considering his parents). He has literally charmed the dog into submission to his cuteness. He's hungry a lot more lately, but so is his dad. Today was more revealing about Mike than anything else. While looking at the pictures taken today, Mike sees the one of the three of us and brings me back to reality with "oh look hun, a family". We are a family. We laugh, we scream, we talk, and above all else we love. I'm just hoping love is a firm enough foundation for the righteousness definition I'm looking for.

From one Wild Child to the next...

2008-10-29T19:45:00.002-07:00

It's interesting to me watching SportsCenter every night. Even more interesting is how quickly the commentators switch their tunes and forget their comments from one day to the next. Case in point: Pac-Man (Adam Jones) of the Cowboys. A little back story first:

When Randy Moss was on the Vikings doing spectacularly well as a wide receiver for Donte Culpepper, there was a great big issue when Randy Moss scored a touchdown and made actions like he was mooning the Green Bay fans. It ultimately put him on the chopping block from the Vikes, where he ended up with the Patriots. "Oh, he's uncontrollable" they (commentators) said. "He's going to bring down the franchise because of his unsportsmanlike conduct" they said. Then Tom Brady gets hurt, is replaced by Mat Cassel and they say that the season is shot. Moss, after a loss, during the new conference stands by his new quarterback, supports his team, and shines while he demonstrates what a true team player is during his teams transition. They say "it's not a surprise the Moss has stepped up" and "he's always been a great example of a team-player". Which, very well may be true, however contradictory of their statements in the past. Moving on to Pac-Man. Was he a dumb-ass? Yes. Is he going to be very lucky to not be Michael Vick(ed) out of the NFL? Yes. Is he seeking 'treatment' for whatever it is that has him in trouble? In theory, yes. My question is for the commentators: what tune are you going to be singing in a few years/months when the new wild child has grown up?

People in general are so easy with their permanent judgements. Do I have my own opinions (on just about everything)? Yes. Are they changeable? Yes. Do I think people I have poor opinions about are bad people? No. I can not like something someone does. I can not like the way a particular person behaves. This does not chastise them into the black hole of oblivion to live in my negative judgement until they work their way out. I don't like the way a cousin has treated their kids, does that make them a bad person? No. Just someone who has made an unhealthy choice for their kids, who I believe has the purest of intentions on raising them right, but either doesn't know how, or doesn't know where to start. I look at the negative decisions I've made in my 25 years, and I laugh at the stupid things I've done, cringe at the times my actions could have had potentially horrible consequences, and sigh at knowing most of my bad-choice-making days are (hopefully) over. I guess I look at everyone the way I look at Wy. He's going to make poor choices, and bad decisions, and probably some hard-learned mistakes. I can't change them. I can teach him the difference between right and wrong, show him the qualities to look for, hope that he finds people with pure hearts and good intentions to be around, and simply sit and watch, with him knowing that I will love him no matter what stupid thing he does. Above all else, that's something I learned from watching my parents.

The Pull of the Tide

2008-10-24T20:43:00.003-07:00

I have this ingrained fear. It is that there will always be this pull for him away from our family. They'll find ways: cooersion, guilt, and enticing fun. It scares me how easy it seems for him to forget about us. How easy he gets sucked into the fun and fancy free lifestyle of his uncles and cousins. They don't have a 6 week old child; they don't have a spouse or significant others as... blunt as I am. The question is whether I can accept that. Can I accept the uncertainty of his loyalty? Will he put OUR family above the whims of a drunk bunch of bastards? Above that of people who are stunning and shining examples of what happens when parenting goes wrong?

When it all comes down to it though, I can only hope the tide pulls him to me, to our son, to the dog, to our life. Its home that waits and softly reminds him of his obligations, his heart. He pats the dog, kisses his wife, and plays with his sons arms. Tides are weird how they work. Once an earthquake happens and the tides have to reallign, they stay there. His earthquake happened to be his son. His tide has changed. He hates it sometimes, thrives on it the next, and relishes in in 9 days out of 10. I try and make it easier on him: cut him some slack, and generally accept his regular ebbing and flow. That's all someone can do with the tide though: accept it, adjust to it, and if all goes right, still be able to set the sun and moon by it.

It doesn't make the fear go away. I still sit willing myself not to cry at being alone. Wondering why I have to explain why it hurts my feelings, why I miss him when he's not here, and why I'm jealous of not having a day off myself. I'm just hoping my tide doesn't stay distracted by the storm of other immediate family. I can only hope that like all things, this storm blows over leaving us to our routine. To our normal ebb and flow of life, of improving our lives for OUR family, and of simply rolling with together.

"..so I drew a new face and laughed..."

2008-10-17T16:32:00.002-07:00

He's starting to smile more. Now when he wakes up, if I get to him before he gets really pissed, he actually smiles at me (and no. it's not gas). He's either getting ready to go through another growth spurt or he's trying to purposely irritate me about the eating and sleeping thing.

"...and you can be my squishy..."

2008-10-11T17:21:00.004-07:00

Mike and I were determined to get the kitchen floor done today. We were. So between me working and both of us pounding out square foot by square foot of the kitchen floor, we decided to let Wy hang out with us, instead of on his pillow on the couch. Imagine Mike's surprise when he heard him 'talking' and using his spectacular eye-hand coordnation. I see and hear this stuff everyday, so here's a little clip for all those who haven't heard or seen my little guy in his playful mode.

they have turned him into a cuddle-whore...

2008-10-08T09:10:00.003-07:00

He has this new trick. He'll be chillin just fine on the couch, and he'll spontaneously erupt into fake cries. (I know real cries, this is not real, this is fake.) So I run over, pick him up and he stops crying. I got wise to his scheme after about 45 minutes of this yesterday. At a month old, he knows how to manipulate. I call my mom to thank her for turning my son into a cuddle whore, and she says "he never cries when he's with me". I think, well, duh...no need to cry to be cuddled when he's cuddled the ENTIRE time he's in your presence. But it's part and parcle I guess. She loves it.

After my dad got laid off on Monday, we stopped by yesterday to get him all situated and check on his mental well-being. The first hour we were there, Wy was just fine to be on my dad's shoulder, being patted, dozing in and out, and just hearing Grumpy's voice. The catch is going to be trying to teach him how to find a way to self-soothe without turning his cuddle-whore status completely off. Why? you may ask. The answer is simple: he sure is a damn cute thing to cuddle with. After his last feeding last night (the one before I try and pick him up at 3 in the morning), we're sitting on the couch and Mike and I are talking about his birthday and the bare pickings we're looking at for this year. Wy's passed out on my shoulder, so I take him into the basinette and attempt to continue the conversation with my husband. 5 minutes later, Wy's got the hiccups and is irritated, so he comes back out to eat 3 more mouthfuls and pass right back out. Mike looks over at Wy and me and breaks my heart with "I've got anything I could ever need".

Which brings me full circle. Given the time of day and what this kid is doing, there are two people you could say he's identical to: his father (Mike) and my father (Joe). Some times, I see him and swear he could have just been copied from my dad. Other times, when Mike's making his arms and body cheer for the Vikes, and Wy's mini-smiling, just loving the attention Mike pays, it's the carbon copy of Mike that I see. For certain though, he's a) damn cute, b) pretty dang easy going, and c) just as stubborn as Mike and I are, thus proving his perfect position with our family. My only wish is that he'd have skipped the "stomach as a bottomless pit" thing both men above have going for them...

son, there's something i need to prepare you for...

2008-10-02T08:50:00.008-07:00

I was just browsing. Last Sunday, after we turned the game off in the 4th quarter because my husband was going to throw something into it, i started browsing on eBay. I saw these and they're cute, and they're uder $10. Shipping and handling is slightly pricy (not over $10/each) so I still figured i was getting a good deal. Mike is now on the verge of not watching another full game. My perspective, which I shared with Mike that Sunday and again last night: 1) The Boy's going to have disappointments in his life. By training him how to DEAL with these disappointments, we're thereby making him stronger in the end. 2) 18 years from now, he can go play football for the U to make a name for himself while he gets his degree. 4 or 5 years after that, Minnesota will STILL suck, so they can pick him up as a first-round draft pick. I found that funny...Mike, not-so-much. So now, I have 3 hours until I know if I've won them or not. Then I get to remind my husband of my perspective as I inform him that his son just became an unwilling participant of the Minnesota Fan Base. Mike's going to have a great day!!

somehow, I find this unfair...

2008-09-30T07:50:00.003-07:00

Now I understand that this child is half mine and half his. Good thing too, cause I do love my hubby. However, the simple fact that his son sleeps, rests, thinks, and tries to talk exactly like him does not always make me happy. He squeaks just cause he can; he grunts while he's sleeping (just like his father) just cause he can (which also makes it difficult for me to sleep inbetween 2 grunting forces); but then he'll sit there and just watch me work, or clean, or cuddle with his dad just cause he can.

We moved the swing into the living room for the football game last night. Through the very long first half, he watched. Then he slept. We let him sleep for a while, and then I figured out our bedtime ritual. I get him out of whereever he is, cuddle up and sing "Return to Pooh Corner". Midway through the fourth or fifth consecutive go-round, his eyes got heavy, and I added him to the bedroom mix (at that point, it was Mike, him AND the dog) and I went into living room to enjoy some alone time.

He looks and acts more like Mike every single day. Not bad, but it'd be nice if my son had SOME trait of mine other than my whacked out toes.

well then...

2008-09-16T03:16:00.007-07:00

I popped. September 7th, at 5 am the contractions started coming regularly. By 7, we were on our way to the hospital, at 8:30 the doc broke my water, 9:30 brought the epidural, 11:30 they started the Pitocin, 3 was another round of narcotics, and 5 was the pushing. 5:27pm brought Wyatt Jacob Werner weighing in at 7 pounds, 13 oz and 19.5 inches long. 8 days later and there are a few things I think should be noted before he gets any bigger:

1) His hiccups were adorable inutereo. Not so adorable when they're racking my sons entire body.

2) For four months, they've had a schedule down leading to the deterioration of my sleeping well. After he's born, that's supposed to change to his "alive" schedule. And yet not. By 3, he wakes up to eat, after making sure he's hiccup free and back to sleep, it's 4 and the dog wants to play and/or go out. After putting her out, I go in so I can get more sleep and my little squeaker is dreaming leading to grunts, squeaks, and smiles which I wake completely up for each and every sound.

3) This kid looks more like his dad every single day (good thing his dad's a pretty handsome dude).

4) His personality is just as funny outside as it was inside. He's got his own little thing going on, that's for sure. When he's done being held, he's done. He likes being just by/around us and staring out into the void. He's figuring shit out. I know this. He spit out his bink at 6 days old and with me sitting next to him on the couch, he starts whacking me (very disjointed and uncoordinated, but it got my attention to the lost bink aspect). He loves listening to Mike watch football. He smiles through each and every groan, scream, rant, and use of the "F" word that Mike throws at the TV in reference to the Viking football franchise.

5) Although not instantaneous as I was told to expect, after 8 days of getting to know this little guy, he really is the best parts of Mike and I rolled up. The new definition of love that all things will be compared to.

I mean, really...

2008-09-03T18:15:00.005-07:00

This time, I'm just gonna

let the photos do all the talking. Yeah. Other than them, I got nothing.

it does a body good...

2008-08-27T01:02:00.002-07:00

My tummy now measures over 50 inches. Every three days or so for the last 2 weeks, I get completely exhausted and sleep for 12-18 hours in a 24 hour period of time. The next day, I get up and my tum tum is out another inch or so and the child is attempting to stretch (not really possible at this point). My bet is, if I were to go into labor right about now, he'd be about 6.5/7 pounds and between 22 and 23 inches. I won't know though, he's our child, so he's gonna wait for the most inopportune moment. We made it through the weekend I was SURE I'd have him (when everyone was out of town). We made it through the day I absolutely needed to be able to go get Mike's paycheck. Let's see...Mike's done with this shut down Friday morning at 6am; of which I've ensured him he'd be OK to chill out to re-normalize. Labor Day is Mike's last day off before going back to work. Huh...anyone wanna take bets on this weekend while either a) Mike's partying or b) Mike's in a coma after this wonderful 10 days of graveyard 12 hour shifts or c) Labor Day itself, where we will then be forced to take extra time off work?

Simply knowing his due-date is so close has been making me think lots about what this kid is gonna be like. Judging by his actions in-utero, this is gonna be one easy baby. Considering this entire pregnancy has been the definition of easy and uncomplicated, one could say he's gonna raise hell once he's out. I have my own opinions though (who would have guessed?). I bet he's gonna look just like his dad: tall (long), skinny, easy to get along with, and simply adorable. Others have their bets that this kid is gonna look like both of us. I guess that's one of the funny things about having kids. You never know. People swear Mike looks just like his dad. Personally, I think (especially when he shaves and looks like a 12 year old) he looks more like his uncle than any other member of the family. Then there's the future to look forward to: Mike's little girl. After the Miss Ares pageant earlier this year, I wished upon Mike a daughter that looks exactly like him. The reason? He'll be using the shotgun to scare boys away from the time that poor girl is 4 years old.

I've been told that it's right about now that I should be not sleeping (whether because of child being flat out uncomfortable). I've been told that it's right about now I should be freaking out about all the trials/tribulations/complications/problems this child could have/bring into our lives. That's the strange thing. I'm not. I'm still sleeping well (actually spectacularly) and I'm not freaking out at all. All I've got right now is flat out excitement. There's so much anticipation into him coming out and being hold-able (for both me and Mike) that all the other little stuff goes away. Of course, there are those moments where I worry about autism and mental issues and hearing and sight and everything else that could go/be wrong. But above all right now, Mike and I are just flat out excited. Here soon, we will be holding and taking care of our son as a team. Not just me being an incubator (which is lucky, cause I'm not sure how much more pointing and laughing I can take from him), but together-as a team, we get to start being a family. Now my question is this: knowing I have a teammate on my side to be there through anything that could/will go wrong, how could I be more worried or concerned than excited?

"we are fam-i-ly..."

2008-08-22T17:00:00.005-07:00

Some more insight from Scrubs:

"Let me share with you a typical Thanksgiving at the Turk household. It starts with my mother yelling at my sister for yelling at my grandmother who's yelling at the television screen which happens to be the microwave. And then my militant brother Jabal, formerly Bob, gives my father attitude for using the word black, even though he's referring to the turkey, which by the way only got burnt because instead of turning the oven off, my bipolar aunt Leslie tried to shove her head in it. But you know what we do? We kiss, and we hug, and we apologize for all the things we said, cause a month later, we're going to get together and do it again at Christmas."

I had another morning where I realized why I married my husband. For two weeks now, he's been trying to catch another USA mens basketball game. I found out it was starting at 8:15 this morning, and he figured that if he stayed up to watch it, he could go to bed right after, and still get at least 5 hours in before work. I fell back asleep about 8. I woke up at 9:15 to Mike on the phone with 411 asking for the USA network. Still kind of fuzzy, I listen and try to understand what's going on. I guess USA network program description said it would be playing the game, however instead of the basketball game, they aired the beach volleyball game between Georgia (country) and Venezuela (not exactly what he wanted to see). Until 9:45 my hubby tried to get a hold of NBC networks to find out what was going on. 5 phone calls, 3 messages with USA network, and me finally laughing myself silly later, at 10, NBC started playing the "previously recorded" game. By 10:05 he was out cold. I recorded it. He refuses to let me talk about it at all. God, I love this man sometimes so much it hurts.

a little extra crazy...

2008-08-16T05:44:00.006-07:00

The whole Werner clan went to Malad. Mike's stuck working all weekend (probably) and I'm 9 months pregnant with work coming out my arse, so we stayed. Which means we got the beagle for 24 hours. The funny thing about Meadow? There is not one living thing she can be mean to. People she may be a little cautious about, but animals? Oh no. There's the mouse she's petrified of (even though it steals HER food), the dachshund that drives Shiloh nuts (that she can play with for hours and tolerate being scratched to hell by), the birds she doesn't actually eat (instead she just chases out of the yard), the little bastard dog owned by crazy next door (actually bit her paw, and she still tries to play with him), the kitten that puffed up like a blowfish (yeah, Meadow ran under the crib), and now the beagle. It took about an hour. First time she's ever seen Nikki, and after the initial 'razor-back' reaction, she just wants to play. All evening, it's keeping her from trying to play with Nikki after Nikki's laying down. Last night, it was reminding my well-listening dog that she gets to stay on Mike's side of the bedroom while Nikki's curled up by the bassinet. At least they let me sleep 5 hours.

Then, game's on. I pry Mike's head off the pillow, remind him it's his turn to deal with it, he puts them out, and from two bedrooms away, I can hear them running and playing outside. 2 hours later, here they are, still chasing each other around the backyard, one barking when the other still wants to play and the other wants a break.

I guess the funny part of this whole diatribe today is how proud I am of Meadow. 4 months ago, when I got this super-shy and docile animal from the pet adoption, she would barely come to me and Mike. Now, she listens better than any other animal I've ever had. She trained herself that when we're eating or cooking dinner, she gets to go to the hallway and curls up there. She doesn't beg. She isn't obnoxious about wanting to play (with us or other dogs), she raises a paw to other animals in a "play? please? please, let's play?" gesture. When I finally tried to get some sleep last night, she listened to me when (even in a half asleep state) I snapped and pointed towards the kennel...she trudged over and finally just curled up and went to sleep. No, she doesn't always come when I call (my own damn fault, I know), but she does when Mike calls. When she hasn't gone for a car ride in a while, she'll still make a break out the front door, but she goes straight to the backseat door of whichever vehicle is closest to the road and wait there for us to let her in. The when we get back, it's right to the front door where she waits for us to let her back in. She still chews incessantly (especially at night), but with all her toys in a pile, and the random sock Mike throws her way, she's been leaving remotes, clothes, computer equipment, smokes, and pens alone (one slip up with Mike's precious hat I'm blaming on Mike's passing out at 8pm when this kid is as close as he is).

I guess it's just funny how things work out. Lucy, I would have been a little worried about around a baby. Meadow? It might take about 5 minutes for her to realize he's not IN me anymore, but I speculate as soon as she gets that, there won't be any issues (other than letting other people around him). She's already so very entertaining about him when he's moving, and when Mike's passed out, and when no one else is home about not leaving me alone.

sometimes this child is TRYING to irritate me...

2008-08-14T05:16:00.005-07:00

Mike and I had this great discussion last night about the Olympics. I'm such an avid Olympics watcher (well, mostly) and we decided that there's a reason for that: I hate missing the important moments. I can sit there, and watch every routine, race, qualifier, etc there is, so that when someone asks "did you see...?" I can say "yeah". Of course, his child is not cooperating.

After everything calmed down last night from the cat (which happened so quickly no one thought about little things, like her having to go 3 weeks without a litter box change) and the dog getting her paw bit by Grandma's dog next door, we settled in with the conviction of watching the Men's All-Around Gymnastic Finals, then we were going to bed. By the second rotation (of 6), Mike was done. So the dog and I cuddle on the couch and try to stay up for the rest. We watched everything... with the exception of little things I miss while taking potty breaks. Which is awesome, since I'm midstream when I hear announcers groaning, cringing, and 'oh my'-ing a Japanese gymnast. Luckily, I got back in time to see the replay, where this poor guy looses his grip on the ring, and does a momentum charged flip before falling to the mat like a rag doll.

Which brings me back to Mike's and my discussion. The Winter Olympics where Nancy Kerrigan and Tonya Harding...thingy was memorable to me for one specific reason: I saw it. I watched Nancy skate her heart out, giving everything she had (which was a Silver Medal-performance), whilst little miss I'm-Gonna-Smash-Her-Knee-So-I-Can-Go skates over to the judges and cries about a skate problem. But I saw it. I've seen Kristy Yamagucci (sp?) win golds, German men's Luge (that one's just fun), Piper Perabo ski, the entire snowboarding competition (wonder how long they had to go without weed to pass THOSE drug tests), Keri Strong's solid landing to win with an injury, and Phelps' entire rise to glory. I've watched. And to me, it's a beautiful thing. The competition (especially concerning women's gymnastics), the struggle, the whole mentality of it charges me.

Now, if only I could get this child to cooperate with how much I enjoy it, it would be great...

The Power of the LEAN

2008-08-11T07:11:00.005-07:00

Back in the day of Foothill and Jason and Aaron and day of "Church of the NFL" and "no girls allowed" and whatever other stupid saying they could come up with, they did manage to coin a phrase which sticks with me to this day, and has special meaning after the games yesterday: The Lean. In football, The Lean is referring to a field goal where singlehandedly by the lean (will) of the fans, the football either a) goes in the uprights or b) doesn't...depending on the pure will (i.e. LEAN) of the fans watching. The men's 4x100M relay last night was a grand example of the Power of the Lean.

The French talked some shite. "O the americans? We came to smash them". Funny who wasn't really laughing/crying/able to compose a word for about 15 minutes after they got spanked. Where was the precious media covering their dumbfounded ways when they had to eat their words? Phelps did a great job, Cullen Jones (I'm really starting to like him), and the other guy all did their part, but honestly, the Lean was with Lezak. Starting the final lap, he's a body-length behind the French douchebag, and in the last 30 meters, the underwater camera shows the French dude look at Lezak, who pumps it and pumps it hard, looks back at the French dumbass (who, by the way is the one SAYING they were going to smash the Americans) and touches the wall first, beating the French f***s by 8/100s of a second. It was priceless.

Another example of the lean? Women's gymnastics. Now, first of all about the Chinese team. If honestly, and really, all the girls on that team are as old as their passports and government say they are, I will take back the following in a heartbeat: THEY ARE AT MOST 12!!! The US team is already down since they're not 12 yrs old and injuries keep popping up. But they did it, they qualified, which was all we were going for at this point. It's going to be interesting watching the actual competition.

With Mike and I enjoying our entire day off together yesterday, we napped and watched Olympics and just honestly had a great time. We talked trash on the people we didn't like, we cheered, and jeered (as necessary) and exercised the Power of the Lean all day. Now, I'm just hoping we haven't used all our Lean reserve by the time football season comes around, I need Alex Smith to pull his head out and play the game this year...and I'm worried about Mike's health if the Vikings can't do SOMETHING with Adrian Peterson behind them. Ahhh, I love sports.

A note on relative insanity...

2008-08-04T06:43:00.004-07:00

He's getting ready. I can feel him sinking lower and lower into my abdomen. He's past the point of anywhere near letting my life be comfortable now. He's moving all the time, except he's running out of room, which causes me great amounts of discomfort every time he rolls around. He and the dog have formed an alliance. If I'm not out of bed by 4 at the very latest, they both work together to get me out. At least they still let me take naps.

Based on my hormone levels (hey guys, guess what?!?! I'm almost my normal self again!) this preganancy really is coming to a swift end. While taking a drive as a favor out to Tooele on Thursday, Mike looks at me while I'm being goofy and says: hi my honey, it's almost like having normal Joanne back. I asked what that meant, and he responded with "pregnant Joanne is crazy honey, I'm just glad to have you back." As the weekend progressed, he kept looking at me like I was about to explode on him about something and I asked if I'd really traumatized him that much through this pregnancy. He looks me square in the eye and says "yeah honey, you really have." It feels good to be myself again too.

Mike and I went to the prenatal class that St. Marks has this weekend. No complaints, as the information was incredibly useful and made me feel a little more prepared for the saga ahead. It's just funny how when we got home Saturday, Mike's all: I've come to realize in the last few days just how difficult your life is right now and how much fun labor is going to be for you. I think to myself: yeah, but you're still not gonna help with the dishes now are ya? The thought was there though and that's all really I can ask for. It was helpful to show him exactly what this little one has done to my innards. The before poster with the organs where they belong, reminded me of happy days; the after poster with everything all moved around and smooshed made me glad this "learning experience" of pregnancy is almost over. If nothing else, he's stopped laughing at me when I jump up having to pee horribly, just to squeeze out a teaspoon (I'm pretty sure it was the poster of baby's head smooshing the bladder from one side while the pelvic bone squeezes from the other- I now refer to as the bladder sandwich). That alone makes the $60 worth it.

We also saw three videos of actual births in the class, which led Mike and I to the conversation of what he has to do when I reach that point where I want to give up. I have strictly instructed him not to coddle me there. He has been asked to say what he needs to in order to get my fight back. He knows me as well as I do, in all honesty, if he coddles me at that point, I'm going to keep crying and keep wanting to give up. He's been instructed to remind me of how much I want this kid out, and to say whatever is necessary to get me to fight just a little harder to get this kid to come out of hiding. I'm just not the person who responds well to coddling when I need to fight...I have to have a reason to fight and he's promised to do everything in his power to make this as swift as possible and making me mad/getting me to fight is just what it'll take at that point. It's kinda cool knowing he can do that and that he'll be right there with me helping me where I know I'll need it. Seeing all those other dads with their "you'll be OK"s and "you're doing great"s was kinda funny to me. I know me ~ he tells me that when I'm ready to give up and I'm more likely to hurt him than keep trying.

Otherwise, the baby's room is complete. We've got everything we absolutely need, so when he decides to show up, there's only 1 thing Mike gets to scramble to the store for. My bags are packed, we've got the Meadow situation figured out, and if nothing else, the kid just flat out doesn't have that much room left to wiggle in, which is helping me in this final stretch to not freak out. I will say one thing about him though. He's going to be as damn independant as his father and I are: I can sit one way on the couch, and when he's ready to move, he has no problem making my life miserable until I go whatever way he wants.

Ok kids, hang on tight, this roller coaster is at it's final descent. This is about to get really interesting...

The Lightbulb! The Lightbulb! It Finally Came On!!

2008-07-23T08:52:00.002-07:00

We went to air conditioning last night. For almost 2 hours, we sat in a place where it was cold. Very very cold. I didn't even mind that he had 2 mini pitchers while we sat there. The bartender has a 4 month old. He and Mike are pretty dang close in age. So we get home...

First, there's an hour long adventure for him to go get a 12 pack and smokes. Then the coals for the BBQ have been sitting under the swamp cooler (something was muttered about why don't we just put the chips there too). So 2 hours later, he's frying the pork chops, and I'm making the noodle/zuchinni mixture. Then the rain came. And stopped. And poured. And stopped. And with each turn of the weather, he runs outside to check his precious garden. (To his credit, he saw a picture on the news of 4 foot high corn stalks torn down by hail yesterday, I realize that if that happened to our garden he'd be about ready to move, so his overprotectiveness is understandable.) Then he came in and looks at me on the couch just trying to stay cool and says, "ya know honey, I'm getting kinda excited for this baby now".

Me: "Now that youre t day breakdown is over, you're ok with this, huh?"

Him: "Yeah, and I know i won't be kicking his ass yet, but that's OK, I'm really getting excited about him".

The lightbulb. That precious little lightbulb I've been waiting to go off in his head for 8 months has gone off. Finally. *Sigh*

I. Want. This. Kid. Out.

2008-07-22T10:13:00.006-07:00

47 days to go. That's it. I'm officially below the 50 day mark. I have 47 days until this kid is either already out of me, or I'm taking him out myself. I'm at 34 weeks, so in all reality, he might spend our regular 2 days hospital stay in a tanning bed, but he'd be OK. He's moved into position. I don't look like I've dropped, but he's dropped. I find out next Monday (at the latest) exactly how ready he is to come out, but here's some pics for all those who don't see me on a regular basis. Now maybe you'll understand why I say it's no fun to have a 10 pound bowling ball attached to my front...

Referring Back to the Compassion...

2008-07-22T04:42:00.002-07:00

After yesterday's (successful) experiment the alarm didn't seem so bad. I feel I need to explain the last portion of yesterday to bring closure. I've been told my behavior yesterday was a bit of an over-reaction (not by him). Here's my rationale for my behavior (and I'm not saying it wasn't an over-reation, I'm saying I'm 8 months pregnant and I didn't get that way by myself). Yesterday I hit 34 weeks. That gives us 6 weekends (actually 5 counting next weekend is holiday/golfing-him/baby shower-me) best case scenario to get everything ready for this kid, to be around each other without a screaming child to feed, pacify, get to sleep, or just help adjust to life on the outside. He theoretically starts working 7-12s on the 18th for 8-12 days (which he swears will end up being 2 weeks), which takes our weekend count down to 3. The room isn't painted, there is no carpeting, there are no curtains. I'm past the point where I can be much help. And nothing got done on a three day weekend by him/us regarding this house, this child, or our relationship at all (unless you count him sitting straight up after being passed out for 2 hours to puke and have me clean it up).

I asked him after getting home last night if he understood why I was so hurt by this weekend. He admitted after thinking about it all day that last weekend hadn't been fair to me in any way, shape, or form. I asked if he was mad at all the stuff I had him do yesterday, that I understood if he was, but I honestly wanted to know if he felt like I'd been unfair. He said no, and that he realized that everything I had asked him to so was stuff I do almost everyday. I asked how his day off was, he grinned and said "nice and relaxing". I laughed.

That's a wonderful thing about my husband. When we make eachother mad, or unintentionally do something that irritates the other one, we talk about it. We might scream and yell for a little bit (which, oddly we didn't do yesterday), but sooner or later, before we go to bed, we at least try and see where the other person is coming from. Mostly lately, it's been me trying to show him how tough this mom thing is going to be. He gets to go to work. Yeah, I get to stay home all day, but in all reality, the only thing that's changing in 6 weeks or so is there's something here to take priority over everything else all day every day for me. But this compassion thing makes me figure things he's going through too. I realized yesterday after our chat that he had a minor breakdown this weekend. He realized that his whole life is about to change, which I've had the blessing/curse of having 8 months to adjust to. True, he's been having those little moments when the kid kicks him awake in the morning where he realizes it's his mini-me in there, but this weekend was the "welcome to reality" breakdown I had 6 months ago.

I guess the thing I'm learning (albeit slowly) is that being in a relationship with someone you honestly love with your whole heart makes you a better person whether you're married, or dating, or just flat out being around eachother. Being with him, talking to him, and even giving him shit all day (with or without reason) yesterday made up for this weekend in a weird kind of way. By the time we finally crashed last night, we had learned something incredibly important to both of us: while the grass is always greener on the other side, there's always dog poop laying below the surface. Basically, while we might each think the other's life is easier on a day to day basis, we love and balance each other out in the end, so that in reality, we're both lucky 'cause we have it pretty damn good.

Tough Love on a Tough Day...

2008-07-21T17:25:00.002-07:00

He didn't feel like it. Not sick, not even hung over (he slept for 10 hours), not injured. He just plain didn't feel like it. Ok. I don't feel like dealing with it all day. Chores. Beautiful beautiful chores. First there were the dishes, then cleaning the kitchen, then mowing the lawn, then fixing the headlight in my car, then picking up dog poop looking for this stupid leash that she ate. By 4:30, he was so tired, he laid down and took a nap with me.

Sometimes, I think since I don't get up and drive to work every day, he doesn't think I actually work. Which is cute since I've hit overtime for 8 weeks straight. So he got a day in my life today. While he was doing these things, I was taking my regular breaks from work. Sure, I worked a few hours shorter (so far) than normal, but I was trying to make a point. Not once, at any point all weekend did he help me do anything.

This child is gonna be here in 6 weeks or less. No flooring still, one whole room painted, and I've stopped arguing. What he wants, he gets; I don't argue, I don't fuss, I don't exercise my temper. I'm done. Saturday ended with me cleaning up his and the dogs puke all night. Sunday ended with him passed out at 8pm across the entire couch and not moving for 5 hours. This is all after Friday ended with me begging to just go home for some Tums before my chest exploded and then still had to go get a burrito because he just had to have it. Three days, with small shining moments in them, but a bad weekend on the whole, and I got my revenge today. These are things I do almost everyday. While I'm working. I work, take a 5 minute break and wash dishes. Work, then change laundry. Work, then clean whatever room is on my list for the day. Continue for the entire time he's at work everyday.

I think he got it. I didn't ever have to scream...well, at 8:30 when he thought his happy-ass was staying in bed all day, I screamed to get him up but that doesn't count. When I left to run an errand he was sitting on the couch looking completely and totally exhausted. Now, how was that for a day off?

A Pure Test of Will...

2008-07-17T07:05:00.004-07:00

Last night, Mike and I settled in and watched a highly entertaining reality show: Baby Borrowers. Of all reality shows, this is the one most kin to what real life is really like. The basic concept: 5 teen couples who (at least 1 of the 2) think they're ready for kids get to borrow kids for 3 day intervals. They started the 2 days before the first group of kids came in a house with just the couple. Then the day before the babies show, the moms have to wear a pregnancy suit. The next few weeks/episodes are of these teens dealing with infants, then toddlers, then pre-teens, then teens, and finally old people (not like 40s/50s old, but like 60s-80s old). \

It's a good lesson to be learned. When I was 14 and got Shiloh, through the house training, obedience training and all other forms of training I got to do (my mom ended up doing for the most part), I joked that any teen who wants a kid should start with a pup first. This show capitalizes on that concept. When babysitting for Zack when he was an infant (all day, every day), it was the best birth control a girl could have. Hung over, most days having to go to work at the restaurant after watching him all day, sick, it didn't matter. He was my job; he needed me to change him, play with him, feed him, and most of all (once he started walking) keep an eye on him. Then later, when Jenn and Shane moved back into the valley, they had Zack and Madyson (17 months apart) and Jenn's sister (a really good friend) as a roommate. Just being there for a weekend reminded me of the joys waiting for me when I had kids. Kim (Jenn's sister) used to joke as we ran out of the house to go late night bowling, or hitting whatever party Foothill was having for the day, that though rent was cheap living with them, and it provided the best birth control on earth, there were days even though it was her neice and nephew she wanted to pull her hair out.

The show during the toddler episode last night had a 2 year old crying for 3 days straight. His mom (who can see everything going on via surviellance camera), upon picking him up informed the couple they weren't ready for kids since they had handled him absolutely horribly. The teen female freaked out. She had never, not once tried to distract him while he was crying. She hadn't taken out his toys, or grabbed something he'd never seen before to get his mind off of whatever separation/etc had set him off. In turn, for 3 days, this poor child did almost nothing but cry and sleep. The best part about these teens, was that they didn't get it. They chalked it up to "he was just difficult and a disappointment". They had 3 days. They could have asked the other teen 'parents' for suggestions, they had tons of opportunities to try different techniques to get this kid to stop crying. Instead, they coddled him and tried to reason with him "you're 2! You're acting like a little baby crying all the time. It's not cute."

Which brings me to my 2-year-old. For years, my mom and I have joked about how having a dog is like having an eternal 2 year old. Days like today remind me of this, so I pat my tummy, talk to the child, and plead with him to just have his days on the opposite days as the dog. I got up at 5:30. By 6, while chasing the chew bone off the couch, she'd fallen off and started limping. By 6:30, she'd run through the garden at least 3 times that I'd caught. Then she came back in. By 7, she'd pilfered at least 3 water bottle caps, 2 receipts and a peice of cardboard out of the office/baby's room and taken them to various places in the house (I honestly just don't know where she finds this stuff) where I get to a) find them, b) re-throw them away, and c) probably hurt myself while doing either a) or b). Now that it's almost 8:30, she's winding down for her daily nap, so I have a few moments of peace. Considering she's such like the toddler, I'm wondering if I should abide by the advice I've been hearing for 8 months, and just start taking my naps when she does. It'd sure save me a lot of cleaning/picking up during the hours I'm not asleep.

A Well Deserved Mini-Break...

2008-07-09T20:40:00.003-07:00

Chris called Mike at 3:30 this afternoon and shortly after, Mike comes into the sauna (my new name for the office/baby's room). He tentatively looks at me and asks, "Do you wanna go sit by the pool at Kim and Charlie's?" I look him square in the eye, sweat dripping from my forehead, arms, and legs and reply, "are you kidding? YOU can sit by the pool. I'll be completly submerged."

So we go. I have found the break I need to survive. For two and a half hours, I was not hot. I was not stuck indoors in order to be not hot. I was outside, in the sunshine, enjoying the company of the terrible twosome (my nickname for Chris and Mike when together) and a funny lady. I. Was. Not. Hot. The topic did come up however, in what circumstances this could be worse for me and (as much as I try not to take it out on him) Mike. Below is a list to remind me when the next 7 weeks are pure hell of what could be worse.

~ Back in Virginia, where at this time of year, the humidity is almost always over 100, and no matter if you do or don't have Central Air...it's plain ole miserable whether you're pregnant or not.

~ An elephant, they carry their young for 22 months and then drop 100 pound babies. As much as I feel like one, I am not, nor will I ever be an elephant.

~ Back in the 1800/early 1900s: They had no air conditioning, no swamp coolers, and they didn't work in front of a computer. They tilled gardens, and worked the farms whether they were or weren't pregnant. Their husbands, likewise would never have been as understand and tolerant as Mike has. Upon this discovery, I am now making a much more conscience effort to not take my bad day/hot-ness out on him.

Three's good for here. If anyone else has any, the "thoughts?" tab is always available.

An Addendum

2008-07-08T08:33:00.002-07:00

After calming down from the events of yesterday and the topper last night, I almost removed the post below this morning. After great consideration, I have decided against that. The reason? Because I'm sick of hearing everyone and their dog telling me what I'm doing is wrong based on medical science from 20+ years ago, superstitions passed on through the generations, and plain ole ignorance.

Is every choice I'm going to make as a parent going to have positive outcomes? Probably not. Regarding me smoking, as long as I'm not stuck at a family BBQ that turns into a drunken festival where there are 13 people all drunk and chain smoking, I'm down to 5 or less a day. If at any point my doctor was concerned with how this child is doing, he would have told me things I need to change about my lifestyle (jumping up and down 4 inches in the air, smoking, planting, gardening, working, or just being my active self) to effect the child as needed. He hasn't. He knows quite clearly and explicitly my activity level and is actually quite pleased with (a) the fact that I haven't gained my body weight over again in the last 8 months, (b) the size, stature, and disposition (guess what, my kid is active like his father and I), and (c) how healthy both of us are.

A gentle suggestion to all those preachers and teachers out there: considering my living situation right now, stress at work brought on by events involving my charming next door neighbor/landlord, and the dead heat of the summer that I'm 8+ months pregnant during, my generally quite abundant patience and temper control has greatly diminished. Don't be surprised if while informing me of things I'm doing wrong, I return the favor.

A Note to all Readers...

2008-07-07T20:48:00.002-07:00

If you're going to read my thoughts about this pregnancy, about this relationship, about WHATEVER, please keep in mind they are my thoughts. This is Mike's and my child. I have asked every question I can think of at every doctor's appointment I go to.

If you want to have anything to do with this child stop calling and frustrating my husband and I based on bullshit theories you think you've read about me purposely endangering the life of my child. If me smoking while pregnant is the ONLY thing I do to mess up his life I'm better off than 90% of the other people out there telling me that things I'm doing are wrong.

BUTT OUT IF YOU CAN'T HANDLE IT.

Words of Wisdom from a Sitcom...

2008-06-23T11:38:00.003-07:00

After an eventful weekend, full of a four hour screaming match (mostly me screaming), shop therapy on Sunday, and him informing me that he understands on Sunday, Scrubs made me laugh very very very hard this morning.

Elliot: "...but I got all crazy and went off on him."

Cox: "Of course you did. You're a woman.

Sure, ya do come with a little extra crazy but, what the heck,

that's what makes you...you."

Can't help but find that funny today.

You Got The Baby Fever, Huh?

2008-06-20T12:31:00.002-07:00

It's been a month since the last post. The child keeps growing, and is now using me as a trampoline. Which is great, since I was worried they were preterm contractions and ended up in the hospital for 2 hours of monitoring. What did the monitoring show? That for the entire two hours, the child moved around in my tum tum and about ten seconds before the pain, his heartbeat got all raised like he was excited or he was about to jump up and down on me.

Mike's starting to talk to the kid. On bad days, Mike'll rub my tummy and tells him "please be nice to your mommy because if you're mean to her she's really mean to me." It makes me laugh. Mike's realizing this is coming more and more every day. I'm starting to get excited about actually getting to hold him. Seriously, that's the one thing that drives me everyday to have less drags, to put up with Mike and whatever crazy thing he's up to for the day. The thought that sooner or later, (hopefully after the baby's room/office is done) I'll have this little itty bitty thing that is a combination of Mike and me that I can cuddle with. I know the first part is hard, I know there are going to be plenty of days where I want to strangle the child. But it's the days in the future, where I get to play, and cuddle, and teach the child how to have fun that have me excited.

One thing I'm definately looking forward to: Mike holding his little one for the first time. He knows it's real, he knows the kid is going to be here soon. I hope to have a camera on him the first time he gets to hold the kid...even more, I hope he gets to realize how much fun the next few years are really going to be.

Whack A Mommy, Inc.

2008-05-15T22:41:00.002-07:00

I've got this really awesome business concept I'd like to share. I want to manufacture fun stuff, creative stuff, maybe even exercise-ish stuff for expectant mommies. I've been going nuts being in the house all day, working all the time. So I've started taking quick little breaks to get stuff done. Yesterday, I used Mike's handsaw (not my fault he left it out) and cut out shelving for the office/baby's room. Today, I installed it and painted it. While I had the paint out, I accidentally painted four sections of the baby's room.

Mike's freaking out "you're going to make this kid retarded, etc" and I'm just happy that for once, I did more than sit on my bum and type all day. Literally, all projects took 5 minutes a go...divide that by an endless workday of sitting at the computer and I maintain that I was more productive regarding work than normal too. What I don't understand is where men now-a-days get the concept that since we're pregnant, we're 'delicate'. We obviously weren't that delicate to get in this position, and frankly, women were healthier and had healthier babies way back in the early 20th century than now. What were they doing? Were they sitting on their ass all day for no reason? No way!!

Using my education, common sense and rationale, I can basically run it down to this: if a kid isn't healthy enough to survive the womb while I'm actually active and doing stuff, how is he supposed to survive...life outside of it?

Which brings me to my concept. I'm going to spend the next...however long I'm pregnant this go-around and the next pregnanc(ies) compiling projects, spaced out by amount of time, for preggo women to do that won't get them screamed at. I'm not gonna say he was wrong at screaming at me for painting, I will admit I had a little fume high going on, but I'm saying I just need to figure out what I CAN do that isn't going to make him yell, and make me go insane from stupidity.

Where the Meadow's are Green...

2008-05-07T17:01:00.002-07:00

I started working from home on Thursday. Friday went long. Home, alone, in the house, all day. By myself. Saturday, I worked while Mike did homework. Sunday, he went to Home Depot to get some paint so we can start getting the house together. While he was preparing the room for paint, and then painting, I went window shopping...at the Super Adoption. Two hours later, I called Mike to ask if I could bring a happy puppy home.

I'd been in line to ask the people from the Pet Samaritan Fund about the little 8 week old puppies in the back (the only puppies left after three days of adoptions), and while I waited this beautiful husky/german shepard mix caught my eye. In the craziness of the SuperAdoption, with all the barking and yelping and carrying on, she just sat there. She didn't bark, didn't yelp, didn't whimper. I took her out for a walk, and she didn't pull the lead. I went through all the paperwork, got her in the car and three days later, she's breaking into her personality, while staying docile and sweet. Mike's fallen in love with her, and after a brief discussion upon her entrance to the backyard, her name is Meadow. She keeps me company during the day, even if just by stealing water bottles off the desk, or meandering in every once in a while to make sure everything's ok. She herds my shoes into lines (my poor flipflops died on night #1). Otherwise, she's found chewbones are great pacifiers, Mike is the sucker for everything, and people aren't so bad to live with. I've enclosed a photo. Welcome the most recent living member of the Werner family.

Turn The Page

2008-04-23T21:14:00.001-07:00

She's been there since I was 16 . Through many boyfriends, arguments with my parents, the turtle, the cat, the last horrible breakup, lost friends, lost apartments, my car accident, my remodel of my bedroom, the heartbeat of my unborn child and my marriage. I have to put lucy down tomorrow. As we've always known, it was gonna be fast and hard, I mean who gets a puppy for 8 years?

Three weeks from sneezing attacks to a tumorin her nose that's moved into her brain. I know there's nothing I could have done. I know she's absolutely miserable and in pain. I just wish it would make it hurt less for me to know I'm doing what's best for her...

God, I wish this didn't hurt so bad.

So when is it Elephant Season in Utah?

2008-04-14T07:30:00.002-07:00

Two days. Two entire days we devoted to sunshine and fishing poles and the attempt at catching a fish. Not two, not three, just one. And did we succeed? No. I caught a sunburn, Nick caught a trespassing ticket, Mike got pissed about a two day adventure with no prize for the trouble. Twice, we got our licenses checked by Fish and Game, but not once could they point us in a direction to where the fish were biting, or what they were biting on.

Mike, in a moment of desperation, told a story about his grandfather for laughs: Fish and Game comes up to try and check for licenses and he asks when Elephant season is. The Fish & Game guy laughs, and says "sir, there aren't any elephants in Utah." Mike's grampa replies with "well, you sell fishing licenses and there aren't any f**king fish either". We needed it yesterday. Now it's down to a matter of principal. We will catch a fish. We will catch a fish in Utah, and it will be big. And we will go fishing every day of the weekend until we do. Sometimes, I love him so much it's sad.

BABY Werner

2008-04-11T14:58:00.002-07:00

I had my 20 week (more like 19) ultrasound yesterday. Mike actually made it to this one. It's sad enough that when the sonographer asked what I thought my child was, my response was "a boy since he's a stubborn ass like his dad." She asked Mike what he thought of that, and he wasn't quite ready to argue with it. Five minutes later, it's not as funny as I have a full (FULL) bladder and our child is head-butting my bladder so much you could see the bladder indent from his head. It was a few more minutes before we found out for sure: I'm going to have a son.

There's a slideshow set up on the left side of the navbar. The DVD they gave us was corrupted, so after a conversation with them this morning, I got 7 pics of my bundle. Here's my favorite, even though you can't see Mike's big-ass ears this poor kid got stuck with. But he sure has a cute little nose.

And It's Done!!!

2008-04-01T15:51:00.003-07:00

Well everyone,

It's official, I am now a Werner. Pictures should be up and available either tomorrow or Thursday. That being said, a quick synopsis is that everything went smoothly, there was a 15 minute ceremony, and the reception went until 10 with us walking out to my trashed car at that point.

Otherwise...everything will be available for the general viewing shortly. Oh yeah, it's fun being a Werner.

I Remember Clearly How you Looked the Night We Met...

2008-03-25T06:53:00.003-07:00

My hell does he make me laugh. He's been doing this new thing lately. It started out as annoying, but after a few weeks, all of a sudden it's not bothering me so much. He rolls over at whatever god-awful hour he does, sticks his left arm all the way around my tummy and squeezes. He doesn't mean to, I'm pretty sure he's out cold every time he does it. I'm pretty sure that's why the kid has started waking me so consistently early: his dad wakes him up first. It constantly amazes me how awesome this guy of mine is. We made pizza last night and he's running up to where I'm at in full kung-fu kick motion with hands in karate chop set just to get 5 inches away from me, kiss me and giggle as he pokes my belly.

More pictures to come soon. We have docs appt on the 4th of April, but wedding pics should be here first. I'm thinking of getting the baby's blog started after the ultrasound, when we know (or think we know) what we're having.

Three Magical Words: Patience, Compassion, Compromise

2008-03-19T14:20:00.002-07:00

After I got off work yesterday, I tried to get a hold of him. Tried for 45 mintues to get a hold of him. Then I called his uncle and drove to the bar. Three hours later, we had it out. Big Time.

The people I feel bad for is the people who don't live together before they get married. Considering I moved in officially in November and apparently I got pregnant in December, we've had roughly 5 months of living together to get the boundaries set, to begin this power struggle, and to hopefully, reach common ground. After our 45 minute screaming match, I went to Tina's and Jim's and got a rude awakening along with three words to live by. They make sense, so I can propogate and share.

Patience: I'm sure in every relationship, there's that point where one person is always right and the other always gets the shit end of the deal. Because Mike didn't have the whole world crash around his ears with the results of a pee test at the doctors office, I shouldn't expect him to not go anywhere or do anything just because I don't feel like it. Even more, considering where I was financially when a particular couple began their training, I have absolutely nothing to bitch about when he spends $30 on beer at the bar in two days. Especially when one of those days is St. Patrick's Day.

Compassion: Understanding where the other person is coming from is a hard thing to accomplish. Even more, trying to explain yourself to someone else without pointing any fingers or without playing the blame game is even more difficult. My mom helped with this one. Informing the other person of how they have made you feel is a fact. Not that their direct actions is what has led you to feeling this way, but "I feel gypped when I pay all the bills, and you go to the bar two nights in a row, and I haven't done or spent anything on myself in 4 months" is a lot easier on both sets of ears than "God, why can't you stay out of the bar? Do I go to the bart every night? etc etc etc".

Compromise: Reaching that point where there are ground rules, without restricting one of the members of the relationship for the sole benefit of the other. Yeah, that one is easy enough to get.

After a long chat, and some agreeing and some disagreeing and re-strategizing, we're great. I slept better than I have in weeks, no upset tummy all day, and he honestly makes me smile when he just calls. Whoever said the honeymoon period is bliss needs to have their head examined. It's hard, but it's worth it. My thought is that the honeymoon period is what comes 5 or 10 years in the future, when we laugh at this stupid stuff, and we enjoy ourselves and the life we've created.

I Long to Feel That Warm, Southern Rain...

2008-03-18T13:41:00.002-07:00

Yesterday was St. Paddy's Day. We did good. We tried. Well, more correctly, I tried. I got home from work and asked him to walk with me around Costco. He obliged and we went to Costco and meandered for half an hour. He was unhappy to be there without spending money (being the gracious shopper he is), so he got mad and we left.

Flash forward to an hour later, and he wants to go to the bar. It is St. Patrick's Day, after all. I tell him to go ahead, and I'll see him about 9 (in a sarcastic manner). He argued, saying it'd only be one beer and he'd be home in an hour. Three hours later, I called him and upon the greeting of a very slurred "happy saint paddy's day honey" did I realize that I was going to get to be designated driver. Later that evening, a relative of his informed me that I was a jealous person. I argued at the time, but upon retrospect, I am. I'm not jealous of other women, or if he looks/talks to other women. What I am jealous of is the amount of time he donates to the bar or to his family instead of being at home with me. It's a compromise we'll have to reach sooner or later, I know. This is one of those little things that automatically makes me mad, when 6 months ago it was me begging to go.

It's not a fair situation, even scarier is the fact that in 6 months, the fairness of the situation is going to make a dramatic turn either for our benefit as a couple or as a detriment. That's what scares me about the time he spends there: that six months from now, I'm going to get off of work, pick up the baby from the babysitter and be at home caring for the baby while he's at the bar just as frequently as he is now. The part that sucks is when I bring the subject up, all I get as a response is "I'm sorry honey" or "it'll stop when the baby gets here honey" or "why do you have to get mad at me all the time honey?". Then I feel bad. I can't blame him, if the situation were reversed, I'd probably be doing the same. But the situation being what it is, sucks. Big time. The one thing that concerns me most about him is something that I love very much about him. He has a large, close family that I get along with, that I love to death- but the only time to see them is at the bar. That's a pickle we'll have to work out through time.

Sometimes, you just gotta smile...

2008-03-15T20:55:00.001-07:00

What started out as a decent day has managed to spiral into disaster. It's not that he doesn't try, it's just that there's too much going on at once I think.

There's one big thing I'm waiting for that I'm sure will make a difference. He still hasn't heard the heartbeat. I'm hoping that as soon as he hears that fast thumping, he'll realize that it's real and actually going to happen. Maybe then, he'll understand the smells that I can't handle, or the effects of a migraine when I can't take motrin for it. These are hopes, I know. Only time will tell.

Until that day, I'll wait it out. The wedding will be close enough. That's the first step. The next doctors appointment is a week after the wedding and hopefully, he'll be able to hear the heartbeat. Two weeks later, we go in for the 20 week ultrasound. After that, in a few months,
he'll be feeling the kicking for himself. Sometimes just waiting for the lightbulb to go off is the longest wait I've had so far.

"Then we let the games begin..."

2008-03-14T11:23:00.006-07:00

There's a 15 week old living being growing in me. I love it. I enjoy feeling him move around, I enjoy the whole process of being pregnant so far. And really, I have nothing to complain about. I passed my first trimester with flying colors, no morning sickness, no issues what-so-ever other than being tired frequently. There are just a few things I'd like to get out of the way before I kill this child's father.

1. I have decided to market a t-shirt/sweatshirt campaign with cute sayings meant to target the direct objects of irritation and disruptiveness of pregnancy: "MEN JUST DON'T UNDERSTAND" with an arrown pointing towards the growing belly which is causing so much distress.

2. All pregnant women should have at least one friend that's pregnant at the same time. This is beneficial for many reasons. Most importantly, it's easier to vent to someone going through the same thing when the urge to kill the male responsible for your condition strikes. For me, I have a friend who's 2 months behind me, and she's wanting to hurt the other children too, mostly because she has three people demanding her attention at every possible moment instead of my single pain-in-the-ass.

3. The first time you feel that thing growing in you, is a magical moment. And one only for the mommy to be. It's too small to feel from the outside which is a mixed blessing and curse. The blessing is that you actually get to feel this thing, which in my case, is turning out to be a curse. I'm grateful he's healthy. I'm grateful he's apparently going to make a great field goal kicker, but really? Why wake me up at 5:30 every morning? And if I don't get up? Oh, he goes for the kidney and the bladder so that by 6:30, I'm up and I'm pissed (see subject #1). My one shred of hope in this situation is that as soon as he's big enough, oh baby, Mike's getting that straight on his back as soon as he starts on me. That first morning when Mike wants me to stop him, I'm going to laugh and do the same thing he's been doing for 2 weeks: rub my belly and say "good baby".

Other than a few (see above) minor instances of momentary desire to injure the man of my dreams, Mike's been doing really well. We're down to one night only at the bar, and he's doing really good at not getting defensive with every hormonal outburst he brushes into. I'm excited for this wedding to be over, 2 weeks to go and one big thing's accomplished without bloodshed. After the wedding, we have the move, getting all the stuff for baby, and 5 months, the arrival of our child. The only question left in my mind is which grandparent is going to be the most entertaining to watch with this child of ours.

Turn the page...

2008-03-13T13:09:00.002-07:00

So much, so much, so fast. Mike and I get married in two weeks, we're probably moving into our own house that we get to buy at the beginning of April, and the baby's due September 7th.

Fron chasing mousies out of the house to packing, to washer and dryer crisis, to "surprise!". He makes me laugh. God help me, he drives me nuts, but my hell does he make me laugh. More pics and info quickly.

Ratatouille Up In This Joint

2007-11-29T09:10:00.000-07:00

I did dishes on Tuesday. I'd been slacking, what with working and the man's innate ability to stick both feet in his mouth and chomp (as proven on Sunday). So Tuesday night, I did dishes. Afterwards, I cooked dinner, leaving those dishes to be done last night. Imagine my surprise when doing dishes last night, I realized that the main sink (with the garbage disposal) was backing up. I ran the disposal, thinking some of the potatoe peels might be the culprit. Water started rising in the other sink. "Odd" I'm thinking to myself. I removed the tub of dirty dishes and ran the disposal again, just to watch the water draining out of one, and rising in the other. I reach my hand in the second sink to fish whatever food particles was clogging it out, and by God, a dead mouse is what I pull out of the murky water.

I squeal, dropping the mouse. Mike, who's laughing at my reaction, looks as I run the disposal again, just to see another mouse cycling through the second sink full of murky water. I gave him the pleasure of fishing both mice out. A day later, the sinks are both at half-mast full of murky water and ground up mouse guts. We've figured the only way to unclog the sink is to fish the one large (or multiple small) critters from the p-trap, thus enabling water to drain again.

The moral to the story (if there is one) is to comment on the laziness of a mother who's full time job (and only job) is her 1 year old son. I've lived there a month. She lived there 9 months. This problem did not appear over night, and for the past month, me having a full time job (at least one), has not prevented me from at least ATTEMPTING to get rid of the infestation she allowed to accumulate. Sooner or later, I know I'm going to get to play nice. I know the only way to smooth the way with Mike's family is to kill her with kindness and permit whatever trash talking and mean things she has to say/do to continue, ultimately just ignoring them. It doesn't make life any easier, it doesn't make my living conditions any better, and by God, it doesn't make the fact that I touched a dead mouse (without knowing there was gonna be a dead mouse there) any easier to deal with. But the silver lining of the situation is that he's worth it. Even though he laughed, even though I'm going to be barfing right there with him as we clean out the trap, the best part is that I'll be there. And even with the barfing, oh I'll laugh at him, and he'll understand and probably laugh too.

An Odd Interpretation of Fall

2007-10-25T13:57:00.001-07:00

I love fall. Every year, the season reflects an inner change as well as an environmental one. One day, the trees are full of beautifully colored leaves hanging on by a thread, but they're there. The next, after a little rain, sleet, hail, and non-sticking snow, they're gone. The tree is naked, waiting for winter to set in and coat the branches with snow. The weather this time of year is unpredictable, and subsequently, generally are people's.

Mike and I went out to MA to see the family and be there for my cousin's wedding. He did surprisingly well, however upon our return, a member of his family threw us a curve-ball. The family member I was the closest with has equated our togetherness as a personal attack on her. Her life is in shambles, and since we're happy, we (and more specifically me) are the cause of her unhappiness. All this since a 5 day trip in the middle of October.

The area manager of the restuarant I work for has completely changed his tune since realizing that 4 existing stores have no way of compensating for the 2 new ones he opened last year, and has thereby gone back on his word of my managing and getting the experience I wanted to get at this point in my life. So as above, I'm faced with a decision. Do I attempt to maintain the current situations and possibly fix them for all parties involved? Do I let the leaves fall and hope that with the rain and snow coming this winter, my perspective will improve on my career? Do I go back to my previous aspirations to get a full time job and look towards the future again, or rather, do I hope and pray for the summer weather was good enough for me to depend on to get me through the tough winter months and just let everything lay?

Fall is a great season to look towards the future while still being able to hold onto those great summer and spring days when the leaves were green and lush. This fall, I think it's time I start looking at it as a time of renewal.

So What If I Wanna Be 5...

2007-08-21T23:58:00.000-07:00

There are certain friends you come in contact with and you know from the very beginning you're going to be tight. To yourself ya think "here's someone who's going to be part of my life for a very very long time". Since the break up, there are three people who were ideally my friend, who have stopped returning my calls, and who have kept property belonging to me, and have completely forgotten all the drunken phone calls and favors I've done for them. To them, especially after tonight, I say "good riddance".

Tonight, randomly, I stopped by one of my LDS friends' house after work. We chatted, I advised her on how to deal with her not-on-the-'right'-path brother, and she listened to my story about Yo Yo (from now on, this is how I refer to him). I smoked a few cigarettes, even telling her about the beer in my car which I would (and am) drink after we were done. We laughed. We talked about how at 14, we decided that 24 was the perfect age to get married. We laughed about how at 24, we say 28 or 30.

I guess it all comes down to commitment. The people who are important to me, who are in my life for the long haul are the people I have decent histories with. Spencer, who made me laugh for so very many nights during what has been the worse year ever for me. Mallory, who for 10 years, has called me a wise ass and threatened to hit me for every swear word that comes out of my mouth. Tiffany, who since the first night I landed in Salt Lake has been there (even with her married) to chat at when I need a swift kick in the arse. There are others of course. Other people who I can honestly call friend. Who care to be around me even when things aren't spectacular and who ask nothing of me but for me to be myself.

For this lesson, Yo Yo and company need a pat on the back and a "thank you". I don't have to run chauffeur anymore after all.

Child Star Turned Old Wanna Be Queen

2007-08-06T13:45:00.000-07:00

I try to keep up. Quick synopsis? Butterflies, twitter-pated, camping in a cabin, falling in river, falling off horse, post-poning move. Butterflies, butterflies, butterflies.

Drama's in there too. The road to hell is paved with good intentions, I've heard, and lately I seem to be proving this phrase. I've decided that for a long time, my heart had been deceiving me. What I thought was true love had been nothing but easy toleration. With butterflies still in my gut after 3 weeks, and hating it when he leaves town for 3 days, it's funny to realize the difference.

Republican was fun. Jon was fun. I miss the good ole days sometimes, of drinking and hanging out, and laughing with everyone at one house every night. I miss the Firefly episodes. The large quantities of bud the went in and out of our systems. It makes the times that I'm hanging out with them again amazing.

The Measure By Which...

2007-06-21T23:08:00.000-07:00

Every one I know, as long and far back as I can think of has had this one thing. This one person that all others are held against as a measuring stick. "___ is tall like ____". In many ways he is my measuring stick.

I was asked to meet someone at the bar tonight. He's a good guy. A hard working, smart guy, who at 25 has a year and a half left of school until he's a master electrician. We drank for 7 hours straight. True, I only had 4 baby pitchers in that 7 hours, and he had coutless cans of Bud, but it was nice. We talked for the last hour straight and there was little or no slurring. He was tired, he has to be at work in the morning. He has a longer commute than I. How surreal was that conversation.

I stayed longer, but the night itself was comforting. The question of the day: when do I reach the point where I stop comparing other guys to him? Does it ever come?

I Can Touch Him If I Want....

2007-06-18T23:17:00.000-07:00

There's been this bubble. It's been there for about a year now. This invisible bubble that surrounds me. I ignore guys that talk to me, no matter how hot they are. It's been a secure existence. I knew who I was going home to and what.

9 times out of 10, it was a drunken fool waiting for me. Whether to kisss me on the forehead and ask me about my day, or to stumble into the bedroom 20 minutes after getting home to try and have...relations. Things like this I miss. Randomly. Out of nowhere. I miss the kiss. I miss the holding hands and talking about the day and opinions held therein.

I don't miss him though. That's the most startling fact about the last two weeks. I don't physically miss him. I could list for hours the things that make me relieved knowing I'll never have to deal with again. Or the facts of life that bothered me intensely. Most of all, there's this weight off my shoulders. There are nights where I can go out and have a pitcher with a good friend, and leave knowing I have a place to sleep...a dog waiting for me, a couch to sleep on, and a movie to pick up from the previous night.

There's an excitement surrounding me now. Random people doubt I'll go. Even more random are the people that think I'll be back permanently...ever. I get questions about how I'm going to survive on my own. Won't be a problem. I have my personality. I have intelligence. I have the ambition to go out and DO things (other and including drinking).

Saturday will probably make me sad. I'm inventorying my storage unit. Compiling lists of stuff I want to sell. Stuff I won't be taking with me. There are memories captured in that couch. There are memories of late nights, and yearning to make him happy.

The worse part of this whole experience is learning that as an individual, you can't make another person happy. They have to at the very least make some steps towards it themselves. A hard lesson, but I've learned it: being with an unhappy person does nothing but make you miserable simultaneously. I'm loving him less and less everyday. Shocking that less than 2 weeks after D-Day, I can be happy on my own. If that doesn't prove that this was never meant to be, I don't know what could...

Make Sense to You? It Makes Sense to Me!!

2007-06-16T20:01:00.000-07:00

I wrote today's date down today, and it's been 10 days since the wind got knocked out of me.

I look at it. The conversations we should have instead of the actual face to face meeting where I was mean...just 'cause I could be. I want to be able to look him in the eye and tell him sincerely that I love him and that I miss him and that I appreciate the last year...the learning, the loving, the laughing.

I can't do that though. It's not that last year didn't (doesn't) mean anything to me...it does. It always will. But in hind sight, looking over the last year. It wasn't the best of my life. We skipped so much stuff that comes with being in a relationship because of how everything went to shit during the important point of our relationship. I want to me mad at him for not talking to me about the absolutely stupid shit he says we broke up over, but I can't be. I have more respect for him because of it.

I know we'll never get back together. I know I'm ready to move on. Nothing serious, but the boys have been knocking, and for the first time, I laugh back and flirt cause I can.

There's a bubble of excitement I've got. I know I'm going to be happy--and make it work whereever I go. Portland will be great for a while. But there is still a whole big world out there. I don't have to stay there any more than I do here.

In the spirit of honesty, I won't erase any of my posts from when we were together, or the last one where I vented. In looking over my posts over the last t hree years, there are important lessons here. There are important memories that I can't just erase out of my memory when I want it to. That's the best part of this whole break up. I have truly unbelieveably spectacular memories of times I spent with a person who tolerated me just as I did him. It was love, there's no doubt about that. There was a certain point where it was true love, pure and honest and real. In retrospect, I don't think we'd had that love for about 4 months. I wanted it . I wanted it back. I craved it. But, as so often does, life happened. Somewhere in me, I realized he was not the man for me, and I turned it off. Up until recently, I thought I was happy...but in reality, there was comfort, casual sex, and habits there with a little bit of feeling.

Sooner or later, I'll stop wanting to kiss him goodbye when I see him or tell him I love him before going to sleep at night.

Freedom has at last set in. The boys are callin, and I don't want to let them down.

The Reality of the Situation...

2007-06-07T18:14:00.000-07:00

It's done. Out of nowhere, as normal so I've been told, we're done. He seems content. I will be--eventually.

This is a good thing. He was a no-good-never-going-to-make-anything-of-himself-server content working in restaurants. I'm not. I've made baby steps all year long towards my goals...he's sat stagnant.

The kisses stopped. The hand holding stopped. It'd been bugging me anyway, and despite the sudden on set of tears at random songs, movies, phrases, memories, and the like, I'm actually happy. I get to spread my wings. I get to move. I have myself and a 60 pound dog to worry about now, and that's it.

I've lost the cat, we're still dicussing everything else. I concede, he concedes, then he misunderstands, and we fight. A year, an entire year of being--living together, and all that's left is "ok, I get the washer and the computer, and you can have the cat, dryer, and a dresser." How sad is that?

There are things I've learned over this year: heroin addicts do not make the best life-partners. The fear is always there of a relapse...ALWAYS. I need a man. Not a metro-sexual, always worried about appearance yet have nothing of substance man. I want to be wined and dined. I want someone to pay for everything and be surprised when I chip in. I've learned how to listen--especially to drunken ramblings. I've learned to not be dependent on another person to go to bed.

But there are the mornings. The 5:30am auto wake-up when he's not in bed with me. I gave in on morning #1, for morning #2, I made myself go back to sleep. It's better today than yesterday. Tomorrow is sure to be better than that. Division of property, canceling their gas, and possibly adding an egg to the dryer somewhere may make me feel better come Saturday when I move out.

I don't wish him harm. I don't want to care at all. I just want to be. More importantly, in the last 2 days, I'm begun to rediscover the me that I gave up for a relationship that I had stock in...obviously for a wrong reason.

One good thing: The dog's a better bed partner anyway.

I'm Just Sayin'...

2007-04-10T18:53:00.000-07:00

I need to shape up. There's a line from a Smash Mouth song that keeps running through my head today:

"Somebody once asked
could i spare some change for gas,
I need to get myself away from this place
I said yep what a concept
I could use a little fuel myself
and we could all use a little change."

~~Get it here

The reasons this song means something today?

1. Sometimes what one person says can so easily be misinterpreted into something else entirely. Agreeing on something in a passing comment, can lead to a situation where there is pressure and tension and all around bad mojo.

2. I am flat out drained. I'm tired, and worn out and feel like there's nothing motivating me to move forward or do anything productive. I'm sure I know the reason: I've been working too much, eating too poorly, not going to the gym, and being generally lazy. This needs to change. Furthermore, I've been staying up until 2 and 3 at night and attempting to work at both jobs and it's just not working out well.

3. Sometimes a catchy tune is just a catchy tune that gets stuck in your head and makes you over-analyze the simple catchy lyrics that was probably intended by the artist.

Rain Makes it Wet Outside...

2007-04-09T22:25:00.000-07:00

There's something to be said about living with someone before getting hitched. I know his oddities. I know that if I leave, if there's something I haven't done, and I have to come back in, I get to kiss him again.

He knows when I'm pissed, when I'm reaching the breaking point. That's when it doesn't really matter that even though I've had a long day, his has been just as long. And still, there are the kisses. The dishes, the sink, the laundry, everything here leads to a kiss. It's a wonderful thing that lets me know that despite a bad mood and a few minutes alone, he loves me.

I've started getting things in order for the wedding. He hasn't proposed with the ring yet, but I'm getting things in order. He knows too. He's ok with it. He knows me, he knows that I love having everything as planned out as possible. He accepts that. He tolerates my over-planning nature. He demands that his part of it be a surprise. I decided I can give him that, as long as he's OK with me getting things rolling.

Despite slight arguments and disagreements, there's always that kiss. That one precious thing at the beginning of the day, at every interaction, before we finally give up at the end of the night, that makes everything ok. Those small, precious, perfect moments when I know that this man makes me a better person and will hold my heart for the rest of my life.

Being All Growed Up...

2007-04-02T21:56:00.000-07:00

It's really been that day. That Monday. The day that gives "a case of the Monday's" a whole new meaning. It's been good...at least to the point that I can laugh still. That I can see the humor in even the most devastating of circumstances. Like me spilling a Coke, Iced Tea, Chips and Salsa all over an older couple dining at 5pm. I laughed. I was even able to hang onto a laugh after being at the restaurant for 4 hours and walking with 24 dollars (previous example probably a good determining factor in my vast cash collection this evening). But if I'm laughing, why does he tell me to stop laughing.

I'm pissed...still able to laugh, but pissed. Why is it bad if I laugh? Even if it's something mundane. Something mundane that probably isn't funny but I was still able to laugh. Dammit, I just want to laugh.

He tries to make it up to me. He's actually put clothes on hangers, hung them up and is now matching and folding socks from an entire basket full of socks. Forgiveness comes foot by foot, pair by pair.

He gives up with 20 single socks on his lap. I laugh.

Cause it's Vegas Baby!!

2007-03-27T15:44:00.000-07:00

Three days...three nights in Sin City. We drank, we enjoyed the bliss of Yard Long Margaritas. We walked and walked. We saw the dancing fountains. We lost money, we won money. We came home.

Sounds trivial when shortened to 6 sentences. It was heavenly. And now, here we are. At home, with the animals. Being lazy, eating well thought out and cooked breakfasts, lunches and dinners. We missed home, but we had fun out there just being the two of us.

Mambo #5

2007-03-14T23:03:00.000-07:00

He talks to the animals, he talks to the pizzas. He tells Lucy she's a bad dog as he distributes a treat anyway.

We watch lost, we learn that Claire and Jack are half siblings. He makes me laugh.

Echos of Domestication...

2007-03-11T23:07:00.000-07:00

It's official. I'm domesticated. We finally have both a washer and a dryer. All day, laundry. The result happens to be a clean bedroom and very confused animals that don't understand how to play when clothes aren't littering the floor.

After a long night at work, we come home, cuddle on the couch, playing Nintendo, drinking beer and just being together. Nights like this are priceless. I'm a successfully fulfilled "mom" with a beautiful family of animals and a wonderful man.

I'm getting my pictures ready for availability. These kids of mine are crazy.

Two Very Important Sentences...

2007-02-22T00:08:00.000-07:00

On Valentine's Day, Tavish and I got in a little fight...In reality, a simple failure to communicate was the culprit, but because of our little tiff, a brilliant two sentences were uttered before going to bed. These sentences, given the context of Valentine's night, may have had an entirely different meaning when applied to life in general- but, I've been reveling †he last week with the brilliance of these sentences, and how stable they prove our relationship. These oh-so-important sentences?

Him: I'm sorry I'm an insensitive jackass.

Me: That's ok...I'm sorry I'm a raging bitch.

With honesty like that, I really don't think I've got anything to worry about.

The Advances in the Human Condition...

2007-02-12T22:39:00.000-07:00

There was a shooting today in an upscale, yuppie mall located less than a mile from my house. Situations like that can make you analyze the state of the human condition. The story is simple, and I'm sure in any other location than Salt Lake City (where this has dominated the news as "breaking news" for the last 4 hours), would have warranted a 2 minute spot somewhere between the weather and the sports announcements. A man walked into this mall at approximately 6:45 this evening, and for no apparent reason, opened fire. Over 50 rounds went off in a mall complex that (including separate yet attached buildings) stretches a block east-west and a block north-south. As of right now, there are 5 fatalities and an array of other victims.

What does this say about the status of our condition? We have sent hundreds of thousands of soldiers to Iraq and Afghanistan to convert them to the "American" way of democracy and civilization. Whereas, in our country, the effects of the 2005 hurricane Katrina are still visible and evident. How many people are killed each day in the large cities for "turf wars" and other gang related nonsense. Yet, our media covers this war of "freedom" by advertising every night the horrors that are happening to our soldiers there. What's not covered, are the stories of the Iraqi soldiers fighting side by side with ours. We have lost 3000 soldiers or so. We lost 4900 soldiers alone in D-Day. This is not a war. This is a movement. I'm not trying to be leftist or rightist on this. Concerning lives of the American public at large, this has become the new Vietnam. All of my immediate relatives (with the exception of my mother) fought in Vietnam. When they left, hundreds of thousands of Vietnamese people died for the same reason we were there fighting and left. How would the soldiers fighting there now feel if we left again, negating everything they've been working for since 2002?

Off that soapbox.

Back to the most recent Salt Lake City drama. This guy...he just shows up, shoots, and leaves others to deal with his bad day. My duet of questions that I shall leave this diatribe with is simple: If we can't handle the bad shit that happens in our country on a regular basis, and defend the "democratic" way of shoot for shits and giggles, trenchcoat mafia, and other screwed up ways people cope with things here, what right do we have to go to another country and enforce our values, morals (or lack thereof), or opinions on another country and culture? Is our way really that great of a role model?

An Epitomy To Music...

2006-12-21T21:08:00.000-07:00

Years and years ago, I was introduced to the concept of "flow-worthiness". Being relatively inexperienced in the way of the world, I quizzed the fellow on the specific definition of the term, and was thereby instructed to do a variety of reading. Years later, I've read about half the books, literature, and blogs as instructed by my "wise" mentor. When though did I find the true meaning behind the term? Driving home, four days before Christmas, while listening to Elmo and Rosie O'Donnell sing "Do You Hear What I Hear".

Thus, to ease the questions of any future generations, here plainly laid out is the meaning of "flow-worthy". To be flow-worthy is to be a blatant, undeniable movement of fate (or the Powers that Be). There. It's published. Eat that Pretender.

My Fallen Idol, Part 1

2006-10-27T12:31:00.000-07:00

It's my last day here at the temp place. The time is dragging on and on. It's horrible. I'm left here, at 1:30, with 'school sucks' syndrome. It's like being at school, in a desk, sitting through the longest, and most boring lecture ever. Except I can't sleep. I can't put my head down and doze off for a few minutes. I can't pretend to care and pay attention.

I have a stack of 50 papers in front of me to get stuff done on. I can't get through it. It is an endless project. It shall never be completed: for every one certification that I get done, there's 3 more to replace the solo certification with. It's an endless stream of stuff to do and be unable to get done. Before today, I've worked 16 hours this week. 16 very long, boring, and mind-numbing hours. 8 more shouldn't kill me, but it feels like it could.

Back to the never-ending stack...

the reincarnation...

2006-10-26T11:05:00.000-07:00

Yeah, it's been almost a year. I'm older, hopefully wiser, but largely, still the same. I've graduated, started a job, and moved in with the love of my life. We have a cat, he adopted my dog. I'm domesticated. I'm happy.

That's not saying there's bad days. He's a boy with a "y" chromosome. He's going to have his moments. I'm a passionate female with my opinions and beliefs about...everything. We're going to fight. We do fight. And they are phenomenal.

Quintin's older, more stubborn, still crazy and good. Tina's the same, but younger and with more attitude.

So why does it feel like the most important things I have going on are changing all around me. It must be this time of year. Christmas is at hand, lists are being prepared, arrangements for the holidays are coming to fruition. We got our first winter storm of the year last night. It was cold. There were wet, cold things pelting me in the face. It was the beginning of a Utah winter.

My question, as always, seems to be...what will everything look like in the Spring? Will I still be happy (or happier)? Will Quintin still be driving us all mad? Will my parents ever realize that if they'd start talking to each other, they'd get along so much better? I love this time of year. Akways have. It remains atop my list of favorite seasons due to the endless possibilities that wait at the very end...when the snow melts, and the leaves start growing back. That's when you see what fruits of the winter have brought home.

A Threat of Death, a New Year, and a Few Screwdrivers...

2006-01-05T01:30:00.000-07:00

Oh welcome the New Year!! 2006 sure has started off on par. On the day after the new year, I was notified I could die. Fun huh? I mean, I'm 22, the threat of death is fun news to bring in the happy new year. Turns out, what could have been the end for me is acute broncio.....itis. Instead of dwelling, I turn to the Mike Doughty "The Gambler EP" and use music to battle all the evil forces I've come into contact with tonight...

"Oh all the days
That I have run
I sought to lose that cloud that’s blacking out the sun
My train will come
Some one day soon
And when it comes I’ll ride it bound from night to noon"

I met a chic tonight that made my blood run cold. I like everybody. I have my own opinions, yes. I generally keep those opinions to myself. But this chic, seemingly stands for everything evilish and wrong with females in the world today. The catch? She wasn't overly beautiful. I'm pretty low on vainness myself, but this chic...on a good day, complete with hair and makeup, ranks far far below my scale of what makes a chic cute. And worse, she had an ego. Add to that, her calling a quasi little sis "a bitch, I f*@#&ing hate her", and the other things that told my conscious to run like the wind, this chic is not good news.

And a happy new year to Joanne, oh I'm sorry, Jo. Otherwise, seemingly, I will live to see a new year. I shall survive this ailment. With the assistance of vodka and antibiotics, I shall surpass this to whatever other illness a customer decides to bestow onto me. In the meantime, I register for my other classes, download LOST episodes, and enjoy my iPod to the fullest extent possible.

It's rather strange: I surround myself, in both jobs, with people so good of heart and intelligence and intent, that the smallest signs now are obvious. I love my life. In the past 4 days, I've decided that is something I can be assured of. I think I can honestly say that I've somehow surrounded myself with the best and most genuine group of human beings ever. I'm silly. I show up to work even when I can't technically work for two more days to make sure I haven't screwed another co worker. I respect these people. Even more, and better, I like these people. These people are like me: we all think different. One day, I'll figure out how to propagandize the banana store within P&P regulations and it will be a happy world. Until then, I fight against the moves and motives of the evil nemesis and the chics with egos, turning boys into the messes I pick up. That, and sleep. Maybe vodka. Otherwise, the iPod and iTunes, along with my super cuddley monster keep me alive and well. I'll be back at work on Friday. Then I'll be normal.