So I did not really name my beautiful baby boy...Larry. However, in keeping with the blog theme, my child's alias will continue to be Larry. This is a nod to Jack, who was pretty much humoring me in February when I thought I was pregnant by patting my belly and calling it things like 'pizza baby' or 'cookie baby' or 'Larry'. I thought of all these options, Larry was the best alias, although I did think for a minute or two how hilarious it would be to call him Cookie Baby forever in my blog. Saner thoughts prevailed however...thus Larry.
And Larry...is here.
He came almost a week early, which his mother is grateful for, and took almost thirteen hours from hospital check-in to birth. He is apparently extremely curious, as he spent his first two hours with eyes wide open, checking everybody out. He came out screaming, probably mad at Mama for all the curse words I had been using in the previous two hours. (Sorry, baby...it couldn't be helped.) At six pounds eleven ounces, he is like a mini version of his big brother and his daddy - and it is ridiculous how much I love seeing Jack's face in this teeny, tiny son we made. He is literally the most perfect thing I have ever done in my life, and I could not be any prouder of him. I am going to spend every moment of my maternity leave staring at him and updating you all on every new facial expression - because naturally, the world must stop because my baby smiled. Prepare yourselves.
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Friday, September 7, 2012
High Fashion~
Today I decided that tomorrow...tomorrow I will be a woman. As opposed to merely a gestation vehicle for my future offspring that apparently mostly looks like she didn't have time to wash her hair. Tomorrow I will wear clothes that fit, I will do something with my clean hair other than a ponytail, I will put on make-up...I may even wear shoes that are not tennis shoes or flip-flops. Maybe. Let's not get too carried away.
The motivation for all this surely-to-be-exhausting prep work is that Jack and I are going to a wedding, sorta. I could probably go to this wedding in one of the summer muu-muu's that have been my warm weather dressy staple this year. But I guess the real motivation is that I am so, so, so, so tired of wearing tank tops and scrubs. I want to burn all my sensible cotton bikini underwear. I look in the mirror and want to cut off my ponytail - but I won't because every pregnancy book says no matter what Do. Not. Cut. Your. Hair. When. Pregnant. You will regret it. So I won't. But for one day- I would like to feel like myself again - like maybe Jack is staring at my ass for reasons other than wondering how much of my baby weight is living there. One day.
To this end, I went shopping for a sexy maternity dress. Not possible, you say? You might be correct. And I may be completely inappropriate for buying a jersey dress that shows every curve - including the monster one that is my belly. I should probably have gone with the more practical dress pants and nursing top that I tried on that I could wear to church all fall until I can fit back in my own clothes. That would have been way more useful that a clingy dress that I am unlikely to wear more than twice. So naturally I bought the clingy dress. Feeling pleased with myself, I walked around Target collecting a few other things. Then reality returned as I sneezed without crossing my legs, peed myself a little bit, and remembered I needed pantyliners.
The motivation for all this surely-to-be-exhausting prep work is that Jack and I are going to a wedding, sorta. I could probably go to this wedding in one of the summer muu-muu's that have been my warm weather dressy staple this year. But I guess the real motivation is that I am so, so, so, so tired of wearing tank tops and scrubs. I want to burn all my sensible cotton bikini underwear. I look in the mirror and want to cut off my ponytail - but I won't because every pregnancy book says no matter what Do. Not. Cut. Your. Hair. When. Pregnant. You will regret it. So I won't. But for one day- I would like to feel like myself again - like maybe Jack is staring at my ass for reasons other than wondering how much of my baby weight is living there. One day.
To this end, I went shopping for a sexy maternity dress. Not possible, you say? You might be correct. And I may be completely inappropriate for buying a jersey dress that shows every curve - including the monster one that is my belly. I should probably have gone with the more practical dress pants and nursing top that I tried on that I could wear to church all fall until I can fit back in my own clothes. That would have been way more useful that a clingy dress that I am unlikely to wear more than twice. So naturally I bought the clingy dress. Feeling pleased with myself, I walked around Target collecting a few other things. Then reality returned as I sneezed without crossing my legs, peed myself a little bit, and remembered I needed pantyliners.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Holding A Place~
Two years ago...
I was making frantic phone calls between Fenton and Bay City, trying to locate lost earrings. I was attempting last minute toe nail painting while half naked in a church basement. I was sweating through Lola's hot August wedding in a floor length bridesmaid dress, drinking mimosas on the bus with my Busia, and pretending to polka at her reception. Followed by more wedding wine and cake and hoopla. And then followed by the best decision ever...going out to the bar, running into Jack, and forever changing the course of my life.
Two years. My life seems marked by that night - life before Jack and now life with Jack. Two years later and Jack is still the best thing in my life. I love to look back at this blog and see the things that I wrote the morning after the wedding, the night after we met for drinks at the local dive bar, the perfect day where I already knew that I loved him. It is sweet to sit here and remember all those things and then look at us today - happy and peaceful, sharing a home and a life, engaged and looking forward to the birth of our child this fall. It is even more amazing to look further back in my blogging and remember all of the angst and the errors and the drama- and to be so thankful for it, because it all was an imperfect journey that brought me to this moment.
Jack is literally the best man that I know. He is real and honest and totally comfortable with who he is. He is so clever and funny and always the first person I want to share all my stories with. He understands me and makes me feel like everything I say is equally important - unless the Tigers are on, of course. No one is perfect. But despite this flaw...I just feel so incredibly blessed that God put both of us on this path that at first seemed so awful, only for us to meet up down that path years later - both better, wiser people - and be able to understand each other and create this new life that is unique to us. I found this poem a few months ago that makes me think of us - and of this kind of crazy journey that brought us here. I feel like this is the best thing we do for each other - every day, actively working on making a place in the world for each other. At the end of every day, no matter what insanity I run into - I get to come home and hold Jack. And he gets to come home to me. Lucky us.
Holding A Place
I will hold a space for you in which to be: My gift to you.
A place in the world beside me.
I will honor that space and protect it.
And if you hold a place for me I will accept and value it.
We two can do one another a great service here on earth while we are alive.
We can give one another shelter.
We cannot change the wind or the rain or devastation of storms.
We cannot make what will happen not happen.
But we can provide a feeling of safety in each other’s arms.
-Tian Dayton
I was making frantic phone calls between Fenton and Bay City, trying to locate lost earrings. I was attempting last minute toe nail painting while half naked in a church basement. I was sweating through Lola's hot August wedding in a floor length bridesmaid dress, drinking mimosas on the bus with my Busia, and pretending to polka at her reception. Followed by more wedding wine and cake and hoopla. And then followed by the best decision ever...going out to the bar, running into Jack, and forever changing the course of my life.
Two years. My life seems marked by that night - life before Jack and now life with Jack. Two years later and Jack is still the best thing in my life. I love to look back at this blog and see the things that I wrote the morning after the wedding, the night after we met for drinks at the local dive bar, the perfect day where I already knew that I loved him. It is sweet to sit here and remember all those things and then look at us today - happy and peaceful, sharing a home and a life, engaged and looking forward to the birth of our child this fall. It is even more amazing to look further back in my blogging and remember all of the angst and the errors and the drama- and to be so thankful for it, because it all was an imperfect journey that brought me to this moment.
Jack is literally the best man that I know. He is real and honest and totally comfortable with who he is. He is so clever and funny and always the first person I want to share all my stories with. He understands me and makes me feel like everything I say is equally important - unless the Tigers are on, of course. No one is perfect. But despite this flaw...I just feel so incredibly blessed that God put both of us on this path that at first seemed so awful, only for us to meet up down that path years later - both better, wiser people - and be able to understand each other and create this new life that is unique to us. I found this poem a few months ago that makes me think of us - and of this kind of crazy journey that brought us here. I feel like this is the best thing we do for each other - every day, actively working on making a place in the world for each other. At the end of every day, no matter what insanity I run into - I get to come home and hold Jack. And he gets to come home to me. Lucky us.
Holding A Place
I will hold a space for you in which to be: My gift to you.
A place in the world beside me.
I will honor that space and protect it.
And if you hold a place for me I will accept and value it.
We two can do one another a great service here on earth while we are alive.
We can give one another shelter.
We cannot change the wind or the rain or devastation of storms.
We cannot make what will happen not happen.
But we can provide a feeling of safety in each other’s arms.
-Tian Dayton
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
No Pain, No Gain~
I was recently discussing the idea of pregnancy and exercise with a man of my acquaintance. To protect this man from certain death at the hands of all women who have been pregnant, are pregnant, or wish to be pregnant in the future; I will leave him nameless, even alias-less.
I have not exercised a great deal since finding out I was pregnant. I did exercise somewhat haphazardly before finding out I was pregnant, back when my boobs still outdid my belly. I didn't stop working out simply because I found out I was pregnant. I stopped working out because my belly started growing and I discovered that there are ligaments that run from the bottom of my ribs to a region around the inside of my pelvis. If you are visualizing this correctly then you will see that as my belly grows, these ligaments are either growing, too, or they are stretching. Either way - they hurt. They ache when I sit still or when I move slowly - and they yank on my nether regions every time I make an abrupt motion or move too quickly to either side. It is like some freak torture machine of nature that is built in to ensure I am always moving very carefully so that my baby doesn't get twisted up. I am hopeful that it will go away, or at least lessen, once my body realizes this belly is here to stay - but I am not getting my hopes up.
Anyway...in discussing this with the male of my acquaintance, I was explaining that his suggestion of my using my elliptical machine was not valid because of this pulling. His response? No pain, no gain. And he said it with a straight face. After I harnessed my homicidal instinct and resisted going for his throat armed only with half bitten nails and blood lust, I thought about what a huge disconnect this issue is for males and females. No matter what, a man just cannot fully comprehend how this feels.
So naturally I have devised an experiment so that this male- and any others that believe I should just tough it out and start sweating on the elliptical - will need to do before they are allowed to say anything about pregnancy and exercising again. First he will need to assemble the following items: A cantaloupe, duct tape, and two large rubber bands. Duct tape that cantaloupe to his lower belly. Attach one end of each rubberband to the left and right side of the cantaloupe and then stretch them down and loop them around all the man parts. Feel the tug when you move? Good. Now hop on up there on the elliptical machine, my friend, and start exercising/whimpering/begging my forgiveness. What? Can't do it? It hurts? Sorry buddy. No pain, no gain.
I have not exercised a great deal since finding out I was pregnant. I did exercise somewhat haphazardly before finding out I was pregnant, back when my boobs still outdid my belly. I didn't stop working out simply because I found out I was pregnant. I stopped working out because my belly started growing and I discovered that there are ligaments that run from the bottom of my ribs to a region around the inside of my pelvis. If you are visualizing this correctly then you will see that as my belly grows, these ligaments are either growing, too, or they are stretching. Either way - they hurt. They ache when I sit still or when I move slowly - and they yank on my nether regions every time I make an abrupt motion or move too quickly to either side. It is like some freak torture machine of nature that is built in to ensure I am always moving very carefully so that my baby doesn't get twisted up. I am hopeful that it will go away, or at least lessen, once my body realizes this belly is here to stay - but I am not getting my hopes up.
Anyway...in discussing this with the male of my acquaintance, I was explaining that his suggestion of my using my elliptical machine was not valid because of this pulling. His response? No pain, no gain. And he said it with a straight face. After I harnessed my homicidal instinct and resisted going for his throat armed only with half bitten nails and blood lust, I thought about what a huge disconnect this issue is for males and females. No matter what, a man just cannot fully comprehend how this feels.
So naturally I have devised an experiment so that this male- and any others that believe I should just tough it out and start sweating on the elliptical - will need to do before they are allowed to say anything about pregnancy and exercising again. First he will need to assemble the following items: A cantaloupe, duct tape, and two large rubber bands. Duct tape that cantaloupe to his lower belly. Attach one end of each rubberband to the left and right side of the cantaloupe and then stretch them down and loop them around all the man parts. Feel the tug when you move? Good. Now hop on up there on the elliptical machine, my friend, and start exercising/whimpering/begging my forgiveness. What? Can't do it? It hurts? Sorry buddy. No pain, no gain.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
The Bathroom~
For all readers that do not do well with discussions on bodily functions or all readers that are my mother and think that I should not discuss peeing in a public forum...look away.
Pregnancy is a beautiful, magical, and sometimes disturbing thing. At least for me. I do not know if I feel this way because I had to very quickly process this pregnancy due to Larry's stealth ninja moves or if I would feel this way regardless. Having wanted to be a mom forever, I have had many thoughts of how this would be and had many conversations of how other women's pregnancies have gone - and here is the thing no one told me and I never thought about:
Pregnant women (at least this one) spend a significant amount of time and attention...in the bathroom.
Thinking about being pregnant, I never thought about the setting being in the bathroom. I thought about nurseries and cute preggo dresses with big bellies and even living on the couch like a cranky beached whale. (That last one did come true, by the way) But no one prepared me for the amount of brain power I would spend thinking about the bathroom or about the quickest way to get to the bathroom or the plotting of a schedule and a route to the nearest bathroom during any outing. But rising above all of this are the two biggest bathroom issues that no one ever discussed with me, that I am now sharing as a public service announcement. Also, because Lola told me it was very funny when I was lamenting to her about it.
Lament Number One: The unproductive pee
I don't mind so much that I have to pee fifty times a day. I have even gotten used to rolling out of bed, still mostly asleep, to pee and then sleepwalking back to bed every night. But for the love of all that is holy - if I am going to go to all that effort...there should be a satisfying end result. A good, solid, bladder-emptying pee. Not so. I cannot count the number of times I have felt an urgent need to pee, only to speedwalk to the nearest bathroom to trickle. And then on the walk back out, still felt like I needed to pee. In my brain, I see a devilish picture of my baby strategically poking into my bladder and laughing as I swear at the toilet after such an event. This is why I will torment him with green beans and educational tv.
Lament Number Two: Hemorrhoids
Ok, not actual hemorrhoids. At least not yet. Just the fear of them. This I blame on baby books. Being a self-proclaimed geek and book worm, you must know that I have read at least three and maybe seven books on pregnancy by now. And I have left all of this research with two fears; tearing (understandable) and hemorrhoids. Every book warns of these evil things that every one sorta knows about but doesn't really until a prego book spells it out. I am going to get WHAT? WHERE? And these same helpful books caution against pushing too hard while in the bathroom or it seems that they will spontaneous pop out these little evil spots of pain. So now every single time I am in the bathroom I am weighing the strength of my bowels. What is the perfect balance of pressure that gets everything out that is supposed to be but saves me from the horrors of hemorrhoids? If I lean over to one side and then the other will everything just slide out without effort? Should I just stop eating solid foods and make all my meals into blender meals to avoid this? All these thoughts have crossed my mind in the last month. Hemorrhoids? No. way. I am going to will it not to happen. I may even include it in nightly prayer. Dear God, thank you for all my blessings, please watch out for my family, and please do not let me develop disgusting, painful, itchy bumps on my ass. Thank you.
And you're welcome.
Pregnancy is a beautiful, magical, and sometimes disturbing thing. At least for me. I do not know if I feel this way because I had to very quickly process this pregnancy due to Larry's stealth ninja moves or if I would feel this way regardless. Having wanted to be a mom forever, I have had many thoughts of how this would be and had many conversations of how other women's pregnancies have gone - and here is the thing no one told me and I never thought about:
Pregnant women (at least this one) spend a significant amount of time and attention...in the bathroom.
Thinking about being pregnant, I never thought about the setting being in the bathroom. I thought about nurseries and cute preggo dresses with big bellies and even living on the couch like a cranky beached whale. (That last one did come true, by the way) But no one prepared me for the amount of brain power I would spend thinking about the bathroom or about the quickest way to get to the bathroom or the plotting of a schedule and a route to the nearest bathroom during any outing. But rising above all of this are the two biggest bathroom issues that no one ever discussed with me, that I am now sharing as a public service announcement. Also, because Lola told me it was very funny when I was lamenting to her about it.
Lament Number One: The unproductive pee
I don't mind so much that I have to pee fifty times a day. I have even gotten used to rolling out of bed, still mostly asleep, to pee and then sleepwalking back to bed every night. But for the love of all that is holy - if I am going to go to all that effort...there should be a satisfying end result. A good, solid, bladder-emptying pee. Not so. I cannot count the number of times I have felt an urgent need to pee, only to speedwalk to the nearest bathroom to trickle. And then on the walk back out, still felt like I needed to pee. In my brain, I see a devilish picture of my baby strategically poking into my bladder and laughing as I swear at the toilet after such an event. This is why I will torment him with green beans and educational tv.
Lament Number Two: Hemorrhoids
Ok, not actual hemorrhoids. At least not yet. Just the fear of them. This I blame on baby books. Being a self-proclaimed geek and book worm, you must know that I have read at least three and maybe seven books on pregnancy by now. And I have left all of this research with two fears; tearing (understandable) and hemorrhoids. Every book warns of these evil things that every one sorta knows about but doesn't really until a prego book spells it out. I am going to get WHAT? WHERE? And these same helpful books caution against pushing too hard while in the bathroom or it seems that they will spontaneous pop out these little evil spots of pain. So now every single time I am in the bathroom I am weighing the strength of my bowels. What is the perfect balance of pressure that gets everything out that is supposed to be but saves me from the horrors of hemorrhoids? If I lean over to one side and then the other will everything just slide out without effort? Should I just stop eating solid foods and make all my meals into blender meals to avoid this? All these thoughts have crossed my mind in the last month. Hemorrhoids? No. way. I am going to will it not to happen. I may even include it in nightly prayer. Dear God, thank you for all my blessings, please watch out for my family, and please do not let me develop disgusting, painful, itchy bumps on my ass. Thank you.
And you're welcome.
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Story of Larry~
This woman is ....pregnant!
Jack and I are super excited, super happy....and super surprised. Why? First, because I am pregnant at all. Second, because by the time we found out I was pregnant and went for our first ultrasound, I was 15 weeks along already. Yup, totally skipped knowing my entire first trimester. I still maintain this is not my fault - Larry is super stealthy. And......
I knew I was pregnant in February. KNEW IT. Was totally convinced. My period was late, I was nauseaus in the morning, I was exhausted. For about three weeks I was totally convinced I was pregnant. I told Lola (who is a medical professional by the way), I told Jack (who humored me by patting my belly and calling it Larry), I took a dozen pregnancy tests (all negative), and I had three weekends where I had ultrasounds (nothing). Then I got a mini period, Lola gave me new birth control, and I felt fine....so life continued on with Lola and Jack thinking I was being unnecessarily dramatic. One month later, no period - I call Lola, panicked, only for her to tell me to quit imagining things, that this new pill could do that, stop worrying. So I stopped worrying until I started peeing. Constantly. Several times in the middle of the night. On a whim when I was walking through the bathroom aisles at Meijer I grabbed a test, went home and took it....and you know how that turned out. We still didn't connect the dots with February - until we went in for that ultrasound expecting to see a peanut and instead Larry was waving hi to us with all ten fingers. Finding a fully formed baby in my belly one Saturday afternoon? Totally the most shocking thing that has ever happened to me.
So now we are at eighteen weeks. My brain is still having a difficult time wrapping around the idea that a month ago I was in Chicago shopping for sexy clothes and today I don't fit into a single thing that I owned previously except for my scrubs and pajama pants. Life is suddenly very different. I would sleep and eat cheese pizza 24-7 if possible. (OK, maybe that pizza part isn't totally different) I hate pre-natal vitamins and was strangely excited to go in the shower one day and find my belly button off center. I am totally convinced that Jack is the best thing to happen to me and there is no one I would rather have by my side during this whole experience. He is always concerned about how I feel, rarely makes fun of me for not moving off the couch, and even got dressed one night to go out to get eggs to make me pepperoni bites. This is a grand new adventure that I hope I am awake enough to enjoy. And, as always, I will over-share all of it with you~
Friday, December 9, 2011
Huh?
Six year old boy:
"So now I am big and I can use the computer and dad can type this abc thing into the computer and I can play this game and it has all kinds of words and you have to spell them and add letters to make words and there is this dog...."
And at this point I am surprised, but proud that he is interested in learning games. My heavy reading influence must really be paying off if Boy wants to do spelling games more than motorbike racing. I am really making a difference, really instilling a love of reading....
"...And then if you miss a letter the dog starts bleeding and there is blood everywhere and the he DIES! It is so cool!"
Or maybe not.
"So now I am big and I can use the computer and dad can type this abc thing into the computer and I can play this game and it has all kinds of words and you have to spell them and add letters to make words and there is this dog...."
And at this point I am surprised, but proud that he is interested in learning games. My heavy reading influence must really be paying off if Boy wants to do spelling games more than motorbike racing. I am really making a difference, really instilling a love of reading....
"...And then if you miss a letter the dog starts bleeding and there is blood everywhere and the he DIES! It is so cool!"
Or maybe not.
Published with Blogger-droid v1.7.4
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Aspirations~
The setting: Speedy Q, watching gas pump
The characters: Our heroine, nine year old Girl, six year old boy
Girl: Wow, it is almost ten dollars already!
Heroine: Let me know when it gets to fifty - it is expensive to drive. You should plan to get a good job so you can drive someday.
Girl: Oh, I am! I am going to be a doctor...or a lawyer....or a vet....or a singer.....
Boy: I am going to work at the carwash.
The characters: Our heroine, nine year old Girl, six year old boy
Girl: Wow, it is almost ten dollars already!
Heroine: Let me know when it gets to fifty - it is expensive to drive. You should plan to get a good job so you can drive someday.
Girl: Oh, I am! I am going to be a doctor...or a lawyer....or a vet....or a singer.....
Boy: I am going to work at the carwash.
Published with Blogger-droid v1.7.4
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Perfect Day 2.0~
I know that last fall I wrote a blog entry saying that I had a perfect day. Apparently, I was lying. My apologies. Today's fall day was perfect. Or maybe I am lucky and will have multiple perfect days. Also, apparently fall is a good time of year for me.
Today...
Jack and I went to church together, where all three of my baby nephews were present, and so I got to hold babies and put my hand on Jack's leg while recharging my faith batteries for the week.
Then we went to McDonalds (as is our weekly custom in my family) with said nephews and their parents.
Then we went home briefly where I researched a bit of football statistics to further my goal of domination over all men in my fantasy football league. Also, I won my match this week - so yeah me.
Then we met Popeye and Olive and my oldest nephew and went golfing on this gorgeous fall day. My nephew brought his own club and continued to prove to us how smart he is by driving a golf cart by himself. When we weren't looking.
Then Jack took me to dinner at Nino's in Bay City, where I had pizza made from scratch with real mozzarella cheese that was so good that I don't have words for it.
Then on the way home from dinner we stopped at a liquor store and Jack bought us a couple bottles of wine.
And now I am blogging for a brief moment while Jack watches the end of a movie that suckered him in while I was in the shower. I am going to finish this up and then cuddle up for the rest of the night. Absolutely perfect.
Today...
Jack and I went to church together, where all three of my baby nephews were present, and so I got to hold babies and put my hand on Jack's leg while recharging my faith batteries for the week.
Then we went to McDonalds (as is our weekly custom in my family) with said nephews and their parents.
Then we went home briefly where I researched a bit of football statistics to further my goal of domination over all men in my fantasy football league. Also, I won my match this week - so yeah me.
Then we met Popeye and Olive and my oldest nephew and went golfing on this gorgeous fall day. My nephew brought his own club and continued to prove to us how smart he is by driving a golf cart by himself. When we weren't looking.
Then Jack took me to dinner at Nino's in Bay City, where I had pizza made from scratch with real mozzarella cheese that was so good that I don't have words for it.
Then on the way home from dinner we stopped at a liquor store and Jack bought us a couple bottles of wine.
And now I am blogging for a brief moment while Jack watches the end of a movie that suckered him in while I was in the shower. I am going to finish this up and then cuddle up for the rest of the night. Absolutely perfect.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
For My Father and All Skeptics~
This is dedicated to my dad, the coupon skeptic, who says to me everytime I bring up couponing:
"You are a sucker, they are just putting coupons out there to get you to buy things you don't need anyway and you fall for it every time."
This proclamation is accompanied by an eye roll usually and he walks away before I can state my case. Actually, this is typical of my relationship with my father who routinely issues proclamations about my life and walks away. Hmmmm...but I digress.. Coupons.
Here is my deal yesterday:
3 Boxes of Cocoa Puffs
1 Box of Lucky Charms
3 Bags of Steamfresh Veggies
7 Bags of Bugles Chips
8 Boxes of Totino Pizza Rolls
Grand Total: 11:43
That is almost 80% off retail value - and everything on the list is something we already buy. Now if my father ever reads my blog he will see that I am right - although he will still probably roll his eyes at the computer and walk away, I have the satisfaction of winning my way. Also, for those of you thinking that we feed the kids way too many Cocoa Puffs....no worries, those are mine.
"You are a sucker, they are just putting coupons out there to get you to buy things you don't need anyway and you fall for it every time."
This proclamation is accompanied by an eye roll usually and he walks away before I can state my case. Actually, this is typical of my relationship with my father who routinely issues proclamations about my life and walks away. Hmmmm...but I digress.. Coupons.
Here is my deal yesterday:
3 Boxes of Cocoa Puffs
1 Box of Lucky Charms
3 Bags of Steamfresh Veggies
7 Bags of Bugles Chips
8 Boxes of Totino Pizza Rolls
Grand Total: 11:43
That is almost 80% off retail value - and everything on the list is something we already buy. Now if my father ever reads my blog he will see that I am right - although he will still probably roll his eyes at the computer and walk away, I have the satisfaction of winning my way. Also, for those of you thinking that we feed the kids way too many Cocoa Puffs....no worries, those are mine.
Published with Blogger-droid v1.7.4
Thursday, September 22, 2011
The Mouth Of Babes~
Background: Jack's six year old son is playing a dirt bike game online when a random gaming pop-up opens up advertising a game to kill Bin Ladin - complete with disgusting graphics. This leads to this question:
Boy: Dad, did they really cut off Osama's head?
Jack: (trying to skate over the question) Mmmmm....I don't
really know....
Boy: Oh. That must be why he wears a towel on his head.
Boy: Dad, did they really cut off Osama's head?
Jack: (trying to skate over the question) Mmmmm....I don't
really know....
Boy: Oh. That must be why he wears a towel on his head.
Published with Blogger-droid v1.7.4
Monday, September 19, 2011
Genius~
I chopped my hair off, about seven inches anyway. I did it for many reasons - mainly that I was bored and that I was too lazy to do more than pony tail it anymore. I am blessed/cursed with my father's insanely thick hair so when I reached the point of a half an hour blow dry time it was time to amputate. For the record, I loved it when the girl styled it and I still cannot yet dulicate it- so it is beautiful and hip and sexy in this picture but slightly less so right this minute. However, I shall prevail...eventually.
I was slightly concerned about Jack's reaction since on several occaisions he has voiced his approval of my long hair, but he has yet to tell me I am anything less than hot (with the exception of creating a rule about not wearing my unattractive, white tube socks to bed) so I was not seriously worried. Which turned out to be correct. Jack's reaction to my new hair? After saying he loved it, he told me our relationship was going to be so much more work now because he was going to have to fight other men to keep them away from me. Smartest. Man. Ever.
I was slightly concerned about Jack's reaction since on several occaisions he has voiced his approval of my long hair, but he has yet to tell me I am anything less than hot (with the exception of creating a rule about not wearing my unattractive, white tube socks to bed) so I was not seriously worried. Which turned out to be correct. Jack's reaction to my new hair? After saying he loved it, he told me our relationship was going to be so much more work now because he was going to have to fight other men to keep them away from me. Smartest. Man. Ever.
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Sunday, August 28, 2011
Mistaken Identity~
Being a good dad, Jack waters it every couple days til it sprouts. After a few weeks he transplants it into a little pot and the sprout now takes up residence on the front porch patio table- the same table where Jack and I sit frequently at night and have a conversation that goes something like this:
Me: I don't think that thing is going to flower.
Jack: Maybe it is a late bloomer.
Me: It looks like a weed.
Jack: No matter, I am going to continue to water it daily until, through sheer will and super dad powers, I transform it from a suspicious looking weed into a beautiful sunflower that my daughter grew from her own hands.
Ok, so he didn't say that last part - I inferred it from the look on his face. And the fact that he did continue to water it daily for the last three months, even though it has become glaringly obvious that this thing is not a flower.
Fastforward to present day where I have been walking around with a Kleenex box for the better part of two weeks because of allergies. We are sitting outside at the patio when Jack says, "Look! It flowered!" And indeed it had, except 'flowered' is the wrong word - what it actually was doing was 'seeding'. Daughter's pretty little sunflower is actually.....ragweed. Jack has been harboring and feeding my worst allergin all summer long, right outside the front door. Of course, by this time he has invested way too much time and energy into this devil plant - so even after I showed him identical photos proving it was ragweed.....he continues to water it. While I continue to sneeze. Don't be surprised if Monday while he is at work a huge jungle cat jumps on the porch and eats it - pot and all.
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Saturday, August 20, 2011
August~
Holy cow, August is almost over. And I have blogged....uh....zero times. I am ashamed, I am embarassed, I am mortified, I am......actually just busy. I wish that I could tell you exactly what I am busy doing but no great accomplishments leap to mind. So while you have been hovering over your keyboard refreshing the page to see what I am going to blog, only to be disappointed over and over (you know it) I have been:
Doing laundry.
Cooking at least 42 but not quite 74 grilled cheese sandwiches.
Watched an entire season of Project Runway on On Demand.
Read several no-brainer, beach reads while not on a beach - excluding my actual book club book, which I did not read.
Attended book club - where I covered the essentials of socializing, eating bad-for-me food, drinking beverages that cannot be served in sippy cups, and...this month...bowling.
Completely planned, researched, and sketched out my city garden that I plan on planting year since this year seems to be a check in the 'fail' column.
Planned on celebrating my one year anniversary with Jack by dressing in clothing other than pajama pants, drinking some whiskey and dancing like an idiot to super loud music.
Actually celebrated my one year anniversary with Jack by dressing in clothing that was pajama pants, drinking Sprite because it is caffeine free and doesn't keep me up all night, and eating take out pizza pockets in between demolishing a box of Kleenex due to my hate/hate relationship with ragweed and pretty much Mother Nature in general.
Began a new hobby of bird watching which basically means being able to sit on the porch and appreciate the difference between a sparrow and a chickadee. Which I am doing now, while blogging. I am such a multi-tasker.
So there ya have it. That is what you have been waiting for. I would like to promise you more adventure in the next week or so but to be safe I will just say that I promise....one day...to again post a great adventure. Or at least something witty that involves more plot that just bullet pointing my mundane, monthy minutiae. (Notice that I left you with clever alliteration which changes this blog from stolen minute rambling into a literary piece of art. Enjoy)
Doing laundry.
Cooking at least 42 but not quite 74 grilled cheese sandwiches.
Watched an entire season of Project Runway on On Demand.
Read several no-brainer, beach reads while not on a beach - excluding my actual book club book, which I did not read.
Attended book club - where I covered the essentials of socializing, eating bad-for-me food, drinking beverages that cannot be served in sippy cups, and...this month...bowling.
Completely planned, researched, and sketched out my city garden that I plan on planting year since this year seems to be a check in the 'fail' column.
Planned on celebrating my one year anniversary with Jack by dressing in clothing other than pajama pants, drinking some whiskey and dancing like an idiot to super loud music.
Actually celebrated my one year anniversary with Jack by dressing in clothing that was pajama pants, drinking Sprite because it is caffeine free and doesn't keep me up all night, and eating take out pizza pockets in between demolishing a box of Kleenex due to my hate/hate relationship with ragweed and pretty much Mother Nature in general.
Began a new hobby of bird watching which basically means being able to sit on the porch and appreciate the difference between a sparrow and a chickadee. Which I am doing now, while blogging. I am such a multi-tasker.
So there ya have it. That is what you have been waiting for. I would like to promise you more adventure in the next week or so but to be safe I will just say that I promise....one day...to again post a great adventure. Or at least something witty that involves more plot that just bullet pointing my mundane, monthy minutiae. (Notice that I left you with clever alliteration which changes this blog from stolen minute rambling into a literary piece of art. Enjoy)
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Update: Giraffe Butt~
This is a follow up to the previous post about the hazards of being lulled into safety by seemingly kid friendly television shows.
So to avoid explaining the giraffe birth process I channel switched to America's Got Talent - for the most part a family friendly show if the kids don't realize that the acrobat man in high heels and glitter is actually a stripper for gay bars by profession. So tonight we sat down together to watch.....no problems....commercials begin......and a preview for a fall show comes on that ends with a man in bed yelling, "That's not your sex face! I wish it was!" Ugh.
Maybe we need to switch to mad libs before bed and avoid all parts of prime time.
So to avoid explaining the giraffe birth process I channel switched to America's Got Talent - for the most part a family friendly show if the kids don't realize that the acrobat man in high heels and glitter is actually a stripper for gay bars by profession. So tonight we sat down together to watch.....no problems....commercials begin......and a preview for a fall show comes on that ends with a man in bed yelling, "That's not your sex face! I wish it was!" Ugh.
Maybe we need to switch to mad libs before bed and avoid all parts of prime time.
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Monday, July 25, 2011
Giraffe Butt~
I am fairly vigilant about the tv remote control. Jack has parental control settings on the television and I frequently google different shows that his girls talk about to see if the content is age appropriate. I should have been less worried about ABC Family teen soap operas and paid more attention to the steathily treacherous Animal Planet.
Here is what went down:
I was watching tv with Jack's six year old son, desperately trying to avoid watching any more cartoons. So I started channel surfing and came across an Animal Planet show where they were talking about snakes and crocodiles. Win! Boy is equal parts thrilled and disgusted. I am quietly peaceful that I have dodged an hour of cartoons with characters such as the giant gumball head man. Believing all to be right in the world, I set down the remote and go the kitchen for a drink refill.
When I come back to the living room Boy is sitting wide eyed in front of the screen. He looks up as I enter and says, verbatim,
"Whoa! A big giraffe just pooped a little giraffe out of his butt! How did he do that?!?"
I have no idea.
Here is what went down:
I was watching tv with Jack's six year old son, desperately trying to avoid watching any more cartoons. So I started channel surfing and came across an Animal Planet show where they were talking about snakes and crocodiles. Win! Boy is equal parts thrilled and disgusted. I am quietly peaceful that I have dodged an hour of cartoons with characters such as the giant gumball head man. Believing all to be right in the world, I set down the remote and go the kitchen for a drink refill.
When I come back to the living room Boy is sitting wide eyed in front of the screen. He looks up as I enter and says, verbatim,
"Whoa! A big giraffe just pooped a little giraffe out of his butt! How did he do that?!?"
I have no idea.
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Thursday, July 14, 2011
Cupboard Takeover~
I know I haven’t blogged in a while. I am very sorry but I have been busy slowly taking over Jack’s house, one cupboard at a time. I jest….kind of. I have been busy and most of that busy has been at Jack’s house. Also, I am invading all the cupboards. So I guess I don’t jest. It is completely true.
Reorganizing is a compulsion/skill/flaw that I have inherited from my mother and then chose to expand upon. I cannot count the number of times in my childhood that I have seen my dad open a random cupboard looking for a glass for his Coke addiction and instead finding cereal. This was usually followed by a string of yelling along the lines of “where did the damn glasses go THIS time?” I think my mom dreamed this up as payback for all the times when she would come home from grocery shopping to find a wall ripped out or all the cupboards without doors and my dad grinning and covered in sawdust explaining that he just felt the need to start a project. I can just see her brain working…..you wanna mess with my cupboards without warning? Fine. Good luck finding anything in said cupboards.
Anyway.
I do it, too. Not as form of payback but because I love the way it looks when a cupboard is new and shiny and everything is lined up in a logical order…spices with spices, cereal boxes with cracker boxes, whiskey next to vodka. And I love it when I know exactly what the contents of the cupboards are and exactly where to find them. When you really need a mixed drink the last thing you want to do is shuffle around things hunting for the Jack Daniels. And I love, love, love the entire process of organizing and simplifying.
So slowly I began at Jack’s house. Because of course I have organized my own house so much that I reorganize things that don’t even need it anymore just to see if it is possible that I could invent an even better way to organize the cookbooks. Or the bathroom shelf. Or my closet. I consistently reinvent my systems, always crossing the line between orderly and insane. One of the major perks of a new relationship is a whole new house of unexplored and unorganized territory. Even if something is organized, it hasn’t been organized by me so it is still considered virgin ground. It is like a food addict suddenly moving into a bakery. Pure bliss.
I didn’t start right away, because that would be just crazy. Hi, how are you, I like you, let me reorganize your bathroom closet because you don’t fold your towels the right way. Not the best idea. So I held it in and just kept reorganizing my desk drawers at home. After a while though, I attacked the bathroom closet. I think Jack was equal parts amazed and terrified at the speed at which I whipped through it and moved everything to a new place. I gave him some down time to make his peace with my crazy before I moved onto new ground. Then I warned him about twenty five times that if he gave me the green light to play with the kitchen I would turn it upside down on a regular basis. He, being the brave or naive man that he is, said to do whatever I wanted. Whatever. I. Wanted. Ahhhhh…..
So I have been gutting the refrigerator, completely rearranging the cupboards, meal planning, and banishing clutter as I basically stamped my name all over his kitchen. I was so satisfied that my smile barely faltered when Jack came home that same night grinning from ear to ear over his ‘finds’ at his parent’s rummage sale – which filled his entire truck and included a full size bowling pin, a stuffed wolf wearing a skirt, and foam fingers. Game on.
Reorganizing is a compulsion/skill/flaw that I have inherited from my mother and then chose to expand upon. I cannot count the number of times in my childhood that I have seen my dad open a random cupboard looking for a glass for his Coke addiction and instead finding cereal. This was usually followed by a string of yelling along the lines of “where did the damn glasses go THIS time?” I think my mom dreamed this up as payback for all the times when she would come home from grocery shopping to find a wall ripped out or all the cupboards without doors and my dad grinning and covered in sawdust explaining that he just felt the need to start a project. I can just see her brain working…..you wanna mess with my cupboards without warning? Fine. Good luck finding anything in said cupboards.
Anyway.
I do it, too. Not as form of payback but because I love the way it looks when a cupboard is new and shiny and everything is lined up in a logical order…spices with spices, cereal boxes with cracker boxes, whiskey next to vodka. And I love it when I know exactly what the contents of the cupboards are and exactly where to find them. When you really need a mixed drink the last thing you want to do is shuffle around things hunting for the Jack Daniels. And I love, love, love the entire process of organizing and simplifying.
So slowly I began at Jack’s house. Because of course I have organized my own house so much that I reorganize things that don’t even need it anymore just to see if it is possible that I could invent an even better way to organize the cookbooks. Or the bathroom shelf. Or my closet. I consistently reinvent my systems, always crossing the line between orderly and insane. One of the major perks of a new relationship is a whole new house of unexplored and unorganized territory. Even if something is organized, it hasn’t been organized by me so it is still considered virgin ground. It is like a food addict suddenly moving into a bakery. Pure bliss.
I didn’t start right away, because that would be just crazy. Hi, how are you, I like you, let me reorganize your bathroom closet because you don’t fold your towels the right way. Not the best idea. So I held it in and just kept reorganizing my desk drawers at home. After a while though, I attacked the bathroom closet. I think Jack was equal parts amazed and terrified at the speed at which I whipped through it and moved everything to a new place. I gave him some down time to make his peace with my crazy before I moved onto new ground. Then I warned him about twenty five times that if he gave me the green light to play with the kitchen I would turn it upside down on a regular basis. He, being the brave or naive man that he is, said to do whatever I wanted. Whatever. I. Wanted. Ahhhhh…..
So I have been gutting the refrigerator, completely rearranging the cupboards, meal planning, and banishing clutter as I basically stamped my name all over his kitchen. I was so satisfied that my smile barely faltered when Jack came home that same night grinning from ear to ear over his ‘finds’ at his parent’s rummage sale – which filled his entire truck and included a full size bowling pin, a stuffed wolf wearing a skirt, and foam fingers. Game on.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Join~
In an effort to become (slightly) more serious about my blogging I am creating a newsletter that will update readers about new posts and any other fun stuff I deem newsletter worthy. This way all you readers that don't follow me on blogger.com can still receive semi-regular updates about posts even though you refuse to publicly follow me. (I know you are there, I haven't read my blog 4000 times, someone must be reading.) So please send me an email at thiswomansview18@yahoo.com and include your email address, the email addresses of anyone you think would like my blog, and also many complimentary, adoring comments about my blog and/or life. Thank you.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Saving My Pride...with Pulled Pork~
I believe that I have mentioned a few times that Jack can cook. I think I have even mentioned that Jack pretty much always cooks for us. I am never in charge of dinner – unless I am picking it up from the pizza place and bringing it over, of course. I offer input on dinner, I make a killer queso dip, and I have been known to rub down a steak or two over the last few months – but the responsibility for dinner has pretty much been on Jack most of our relationship.
I didn’t mean for it to end up that way, it just kinda happened. I am at Jack’s house seven days a week and in the beginning, I just didn’t want to mess around in his kitchen. Then Jack’s work schedule changed up and for the last six months he has had a much more flexible schedule than mine. He can start dinner earlier than I can, so we can eat sooner. Especially on weeks when we have the kids, he can feed them whenever and whatever and they aren’t waiting on me. I don’t think it bothers him that he cooks – having kids pretty much meant he was used to cooking already – but I didn’t realize until the other day that he thought I couldn’t. The conversation went something like this:
Me: So if your work schedule switches back, then I guess I can make dinner instead now.
Jack: You do know that cooking dinner doesn’t involve a drive thru, right?
Burn. And while we laughed about it and I half heartedly protested that I can, in fact, cook – I think he truly does believe that I can’t. Or at least that I can’t cook well, I suppose. Now, he does have good reason to think this. Like I said, he always cooks and I never cook. Any time I have a meal that is not with him, I do usually grab a slice of pizza or hit a drive thru or eat a bowl of Cocoa Puffs. It’s true. But not because I can’t cook – because it is easier. I hate to cook for one. Especially when that one is me, because I am the pickiest adult eater in the state of Michigan. There are only so many ways you can cook ten different ingredients. Also, even if I halve a recipe there are still leftovers for days which mainly get wasted. And why would I go buy all the ingredients to build myself a lonely burger when I can run through the drive thru and get a fully assembled hamburger for 89 cents? It isn’t cost effective. So to recap: Cooking for one is a lot of work, it is expensive, and I am picky. Thus my fast food habit.
However, I love to cook. I love to try new recipes, I love to party plan and feed people, I love creating a menu and cross referencing it with my cupboards to create grocery lists organized by aisle….wow, I do have an organizing problem, don’t I? But I love the whole process of cooking. It is like life applicable math that when done correctly gives me brownies. What is not to love?
So today, to defend my honor, I am cooking. Well, not only to defend my honor but also because today is going to be a long day for Jack and I have a mother hen complex that makes me want to take care of him. And also because I spent much of nap time last week reading through scores of online recipes to find half a dozen to try out over the summer. Did I mention I love to try new recipes? So I have new recipes for pulled pork, for chicken manicotti, and for red wine rosemary steaks. I had to talk myself out of making all three this week. It would be so out of character for me that Jack would laugh at me for days – around all the delicious food I would be making, of course. So I picked one.
Today’s winner? Slow roasted pulled pork. Because Jack loves pulled pork and because it is something I can cook in the slow cooker and just take over to his house already done. Also, because I don’t do things half way – rotini veggie salad and banana nut bread. Both also new recipes (yeah!) that hopefully are both awesome. Of course, I don’t eat either one of those things so if they aren’t awesome all that is hurt is my pride and Jack’s tastebuds. But I have high hopes. I will be sure to let you all know the outcome, but I would just prepare yourself to hear the many accolades now if I were you.
I didn’t mean for it to end up that way, it just kinda happened. I am at Jack’s house seven days a week and in the beginning, I just didn’t want to mess around in his kitchen. Then Jack’s work schedule changed up and for the last six months he has had a much more flexible schedule than mine. He can start dinner earlier than I can, so we can eat sooner. Especially on weeks when we have the kids, he can feed them whenever and whatever and they aren’t waiting on me. I don’t think it bothers him that he cooks – having kids pretty much meant he was used to cooking already – but I didn’t realize until the other day that he thought I couldn’t. The conversation went something like this:
Me: So if your work schedule switches back, then I guess I can make dinner instead now.
Jack: You do know that cooking dinner doesn’t involve a drive thru, right?
Burn. And while we laughed about it and I half heartedly protested that I can, in fact, cook – I think he truly does believe that I can’t. Or at least that I can’t cook well, I suppose. Now, he does have good reason to think this. Like I said, he always cooks and I never cook. Any time I have a meal that is not with him, I do usually grab a slice of pizza or hit a drive thru or eat a bowl of Cocoa Puffs. It’s true. But not because I can’t cook – because it is easier. I hate to cook for one. Especially when that one is me, because I am the pickiest adult eater in the state of Michigan. There are only so many ways you can cook ten different ingredients. Also, even if I halve a recipe there are still leftovers for days which mainly get wasted. And why would I go buy all the ingredients to build myself a lonely burger when I can run through the drive thru and get a fully assembled hamburger for 89 cents? It isn’t cost effective. So to recap: Cooking for one is a lot of work, it is expensive, and I am picky. Thus my fast food habit.
However, I love to cook. I love to try new recipes, I love to party plan and feed people, I love creating a menu and cross referencing it with my cupboards to create grocery lists organized by aisle….wow, I do have an organizing problem, don’t I? But I love the whole process of cooking. It is like life applicable math that when done correctly gives me brownies. What is not to love?
So today, to defend my honor, I am cooking. Well, not only to defend my honor but also because today is going to be a long day for Jack and I have a mother hen complex that makes me want to take care of him. And also because I spent much of nap time last week reading through scores of online recipes to find half a dozen to try out over the summer. Did I mention I love to try new recipes? So I have new recipes for pulled pork, for chicken manicotti, and for red wine rosemary steaks. I had to talk myself out of making all three this week. It would be so out of character for me that Jack would laugh at me for days – around all the delicious food I would be making, of course. So I picked one.
Today’s winner? Slow roasted pulled pork. Because Jack loves pulled pork and because it is something I can cook in the slow cooker and just take over to his house already done. Also, because I don’t do things half way – rotini veggie salad and banana nut bread. Both also new recipes (yeah!) that hopefully are both awesome. Of course, I don’t eat either one of those things so if they aren’t awesome all that is hurt is my pride and Jack’s tastebuds. But I have high hopes. I will be sure to let you all know the outcome, but I would just prepare yourself to hear the many accolades now if I were you.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Herb Garden Photo~
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