On May 16th, the husband, tyler, my two best friends, my neighbor, my sister and I joined 46,000 other people in Columbus for the annual "Race for the Cure". It was an amazing day, the weather held and the sea of white and pink shirts, many of whom did not receive a shirt because the number of registrants surpassed the organizers expectations, was a sight to be seen. This year we set a record for the number of participants, largely in part due to the loss of a young local anchorwoman to breast cancer in October. For anyone who has participated in the past, you know it is a highly emotional day for all parties involved, because breast cancer touches everyone.
As many of you know, for my sister and I this is a cause very close to our hearts. Our mother, diagnosed in 1998, survived her 2 year battle with breast cancer, thanks in part to the awesome cancer treatment she received at the James Cancer Center at OSU. We use to walk this race every year after her diagnosis and she was never so proud as the year we walked the race and she wore her pink "Survivor" shirt.
However, in 2001 she was diagnosed with advanced stage ovarian cancer. She passed away on December 7th, 2002.
When we walk we raise money, we raise awareness, we unite behind a common purpose. Not just for breast cancer but for all cancers. We walk in memory of her, but also in celebration of those who have won their battle, and in hopes that some day, we'll find a cure for cancer.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Please bear with me while I overhaul the appearance of my blog. What started as just adding a picture turned into a complete redo. ::Sigh::
And now it's 1am, I'm tired and I'm gonna pack it up and try again tomorrow.
OH! and if anyone knows how to get my right sidebar headers ---->
<-------To look like my left sidebar headers (ie: not under the background, in white not yellow....) let me know!
Thursday, May 28, 2009
I do not like watching baseball. On TV that is. In real life, it's exhilarating. The cheering, the camaraderie, the wave, the cat calling at the batter. It's a good time, made better by popcorn, peanuts, hot dogs and twizzlers (my personal fav). Watching it on TV however, is painful. I'd rather break the knob off and watch CSPAN all day. The only oddly interesting part is to watch and wait for some idiot batter to check himself on national tv, or pick his nose during an ill-timed close-up. Then it's funny, because you know that guys mom is watching and is mortified she raised a crotch grabbing nose picker.
The only thing worse to watch on TV is golf. Oh.My.God. I fall asleep every time. The hushing crowd, the quiet whispers of the pompous scottish oof commentating about whether or not Phil Mickelson or Tiger Woods is able to sink the 50 ft putt.
Oh, look he made it! [golf clap]I keep waiting for it to turn into a scene from Happy Gilmore with roadies, fan signs, drunk guys yelling obscenities, hockey sticks as drivers and putting pool style. THAT would be awesome to watch.
Unfortunately the husband loves all things baseball and golf related. So when May sweeps roll around you can almost hear me grind my teeth. Because there is nothing else on TV that he would rather watch. And since baseball is on almost every channel this time of year, I get a lot of reading done, A LOT.
I suppose I should consider myself lucky. I could be like my friend who's boyfriend is obsessed with sports period. The NFL draft, the NCAA pre-season, the NFL pre-season, the NBA playoffs, the NFL playoffs, the Super Bowl, countless NCAA bowl games and the Stanley Cup playoffs. Did you know that aside from NASCAR, the NHL has the longest season? Me either, but yep, she knew that. Anything sports related on TV initiates a crowd of his buddies to camp out at her house, take over her sectional, play XBOX at commercials, eat all her food, drink massive amounts of beer, smoke cigars and generally sink up her house. Ya, I suppose it could be worse.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
The husband and I are always arguing over who's a worse driver. We both scare the hell out of each other. He is a spastic, pedal to the metal, whiplash, hold on for your life kinda of driver. While I am a multi-tasking, can't get off the phone, not paying attention, get out outta my way buddy driver.
Some day these will be our crash photos and the captions for our chaos.
"On a bet, the driver proved that trucks don't always land on their tires"
"Trolly's don't like playing chicken"
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Have you ever met someone so anal retentive that it prevents them from being productive? Where if you, as the nice person you are, offered to help out with say clean their kitchen, it turns into a unfortunate mess? Where they argue with you over your method, supervise your cleaning, nit-pick how you cleaned, follow-up behind you and re-clean what you've already done only then throw a fit because they are overwhelmed and you aren't helping? If not, well then my lovely reader....meet me. An obsessively self-controlled person. Causing fights and ruining situations since 1979.
I am the anal one in the relationship. While my house does not look like it should belong on the cover of OCD monthly or even Better Homes and Gardens, when I get the bug to clean, GET OUT OF MY WAY. It's also best to just go with the flow of any meltdown I may have while in the process. Lots of "I'm sorry's" and "I love you's" tend to work well.
The husband and I have been together for almost 6 years, and in all these years I thought I was the irrational crazy one in the relationship. He was the one who was relaxed and had an island time mentality. He saw no sense in rushing anything. Turns out, the husband is just as dysfunctional as I am, I just hadn't found his hot button yet.
The lawn. The man is obsessed with the lawn.
He'll sit by the front window and stalk the front lawn. Freak out when a dandelion pops up, throw a tantrum when a person lets their dog "use" our lawn, pounce on stray bags/bottles deposited by wind and keep tabs on the activities of the retired neighbor who's lawn is immaculate. It's quite maddening to watch.
Several weekends ago we had an extremely busy schedule, which meant he wasn't able to mow the lawn until Monday night after dinner, the horror! I attempted to help speed up the process by offering to weed-whack the sidewalks, mailbox, planting beds & fire hydrant. BIG mistake. This did not save us any time. The husband stopped mowing to inspect how I edged the sidewalk, then he had to give me pointers, which I wasn't doing correctly so that resulted in him just taking over.
"But I'm just trying to help." I protested defensively.Whoa, where did that come from. I was stunned. Who are you, and what have you done with my husband? After several minutes of banter back and forth we agreed on a truce. We drew a fictional line in the sand, at our front door. He supervises the outside work, and I oversee the inside work. No sense in fight about meaningless stuff right? :)
"Honey, I don't have time to redo what you've already done. I like things the way I like them. Just let me do it."
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Buy me Andrea....I'd have day dreams of walking proudly down the promenade at Easton with this purse on my arm. The purse and I would have dinner dates, long lunches, and enjoy the theater. We'd go pick out special outfits that complimented my eyes and it's color palette. It was heaven. That was until the husband saw the price tag and snapped me back to reality.
You know you want me....
You know you can't live without me....
It costs HOW much?!?
Men. They just don't get it. They don't understand a woman's need for flashy, beautiful, sparkly purses. They don't understand how the desire for said purses can drive logical women into back alleys with unscrupulous characters, or ten suburban soccer moms to risk arrest to hid out in a basement and conduct "secret parties" to drool and ogle look-alikes pulled from a common black garbage bag.
They don't get how we banish them to the spare bedroom closet because we've taken over the entire closet with our collection of "going-out" purses, "spring, summer, fall and winter" purses, "this purse goes with that outfit" purses, "fun" purses, and "carry it all" purses. Nor do they get the 50 pairs of shoes that must compliment the assortment of purses.
My husband has 4 pairs of shoes, one wallet, and only 3 hats he wears on a regular basis. He most definitely does not understand spending several hundred dollars on a purse I won't carry every day.
But what he really doesn't get is when we got married, what's mine was mine and what's his became mine and that purse will be mine. [evil cackle]
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Tyler will do this.....
I lay money he'll come running to the back door one day, knock politely and scare the living crap out of me.
That is the day he will become his father's son.
Hell bent to spend the rest of his days trying to out do his last "awesome" endeavor and gross me out.
They already fart together and giggle, it's just a matter of time.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Bugs have taken over my life.
Last week I posted how a bucket of worms had taken up residence in my home. Then on Saturday, anticipating a fishing trip with a buddy, the husband BUYS worms and puts them in the fridge, right next to the chicken we were planning on having for dinner. (We ordered pizza after that little issue). Why you'd spend money on something that was readily available sitting by the front door is beyond me.
However Sunday was the icing on the cake....
I had woken up in one of my the-house-is-a-disaster-must-clean-get-out-of-my-way-if-you-want-to-keep-your-behind moods. The husband adores me when I'm like this (take notice of the heavy sarcasm). Tyler just likes it when the vacuum comes out. I spent 6 hours cleaning the living room/dining room/kitchen. I dusted, I swept, I washed, I scrubbed. You would have thought I was nesting, but sadly I'm just that neurotic.
Tyler had been diligently following me from place to place, providing his own running commentary of my actions that only other 2yr olds could understand. When I noticed him laying on his belly, reaching under the side table of the couch that sits in the corner.
"Mama, aahhpp" [pointing]I shrieked.
"What are you pointing at buddy? What's under there"
"my-een" [flexing his hands in a grabbing motion]
"What is under...[bending down to look].....theeeerrre....ACK!"
I jumped, grabbed Tyler, flung him over my head, tossed him on the couch and shrieked.
Under the side table was a spider, my worse nightmare. A spider that had spun a web and was laying little cocoons filled with baby spiders no doubt.
Panic mood went into hyper drive. I whipped out the suction tool on the dyson, smacked the on button, stuck the nozzle up under the table, closed my eyes and started flailing it around.
After about 2 mins I dared peek to check the status of my spider removal efforts.
Tyler, of course had to check my progress, and after finding no more spiders, looked at me sadly lifted his hands to his shoulders palms up and said what sounded like "weer"In hindsight, the spider was only about the size of my thumb nail. But in this incidence, size didn't matter. I may have given concessions to worms and husbands smelling like dead fish, but my girly flag still flies high when spiders are involved.
Friday, May 15, 2009
With my absence last week for business related travel, I wasn't able to post about Tyler's 2nd birthday. The weather was gorgeous out at the lake. We couldn't have asked for a better day!
My little man is 2....
Holy crud where did the time go, soon he'll be shaving and stealing the car keys!
Ladies lock up your daughters! Well, soon at least.
I thought I'd some post photos from his birthday party.
Tyler quietly, patiently waiting with great-grandma for us to quit singing and blow his candle out.
Apparently he only wanted the bulldozers on top, not the cake.
This is NOT my son.
Screw cake, lets open presents!
"oooh waazz at"
After a few too many juice boxes, the guest of honor let his inner wild child out.
On Mother's Day, the husband had to leave early for work, so Tyler and I decided to walk down to Creekside for some ice cream and some duck feeding. The ice cream was tyler's idea, honest....
Apparently he didn't want to share the goldfish with the ducks. Go figure.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
I have a pizza addiction.
I could eat it every single day.
If I didn't care about what I weight.
But I do, so I limit myself
One night a week.
I rotate where I order from.
So as not to look pathetic.
Perhaps I should consider cutting back.
Tyler knows a pizza delivery driver as they whiz past him.
He'll point and say "Um....slurp....slurp"
Toddler code for yummy food
Pizza is nutritious right
Cheese, tomatoes, mushrooms...
Maybe I should cut back
Before he begins chasing them down the street.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
As a girl I should be bothered by the presence of a bucket of worms sitting just inside my front door. Shouldn't I?? The thought of they're dirty bodies wriggling across my clean floor, leaving a slimy footprint in it's wake.
Although....It's not like they have appendages that would permit them to crawl up my legs, or teeth that would big me in my sleep, or wings to fly around my home and annoy me. So what's the big deal?
On the list of bugs that I find creepy, worms really aren't all that high. They're somewhere near the bottom tied with slugs. Perhaps it was because my dad use to keep night crawlers (the giant mutant worms) in the fridge at home growing up just before a big fishing trip. Which of course freaked my mom out. But they weren't nearly as bad as the chicken livers he'd buy that gave everything in the fridge an foul, rotting metallic odor.
Or it could be the worm I ate as a junior in high school as a 6th grade camp counselor. They taste exactly how you'd imagine, slick and gritty with a not so pleasant aftertaste. I'm sure everyone is devastated they don't have this episode on their list of life experiences....
Regardless, just inside the front door sits the current pride and joy of my 2yr old; a pale blue bucket, with a green handle that contains approximately 6-12 worms he dug up from the front planting bed this weekend.
For two days he's enjoyed squatting over the rim to peer quietly inside only to pluck the "fat one" from his dirt nap and announce it's presence in my home by holding it high above his head in triumph.
The husband thinks it's "awesome".....
Probably not my ideal word choice, but gross isn't really on the radar either.
I think I'll just do a mental eye roll and pray the bucket doesn't move any further inside the house.
Monday, May 11, 2009
For Tyler's 2nd birthday, the husband and I decided he needed a swing set. The primary reason was of course convenience, despite the fact that we had a playground at the elementary school down the street. However, we had a secret agenda because, "quick" trips to the school yard playground down the street were never in fact quick. My son would spend all of this waking hours on a slide if I let him.
Up...slide down...Up...slide down...Up...slide down.
Heaven help me if I had anything else on that day's to-do list. Attempts at removal from the playground always ended in a throw-myself-down, screaming, kicking, fighting tantrum. Which would then draw sideways glances from the other moms that just screamed judgment and thoughts that I was one of "those" moms ::sigh::
So we decided a slide of our very own would save us this personal embarrassment, as well as the opportunity to multi-task our parental duties with relaxing island style with some margaritas on our back deck.
We searched and searched and finally decided on a build-yourself set from the local general store. It was a steal, especially after the set rang up $200 less than the published price.
The husband of course was convinced he was super dad and could easily construct such a set with his eyes closed.
Take that next door neighbor who built his kids their own two story "playhouse" coveted by all neighborhood kids from his bare hands with no directions.
However, it turns out that the husband's carpentry skills are actually finite. What he thought would be a easy 10-12hr process, completed with the assistance of my dad, turned into a three day ordeal. Each day it's own production, complete with cuss words, rain delays, mis-cuts, trips to the hardware store, re-builds, several packs of cigarettes and the desire for mass quantities of beer at days end.
Ultimately, the swing set was completed. A collective sigh of relief could be heard echoing against the houses and it stands in the backyard a testament to the will of man for all to see.
That is however, until mom un-boxed grandma's birthday present which is WAY more fun
Friday, May 1, 2009
From day one Tyler has always done things just a little early. Holding his head by 2 mos, crawlings by 6mos, walking by 9mos, cold turkey from bottle at one year and ate with a fork and a spoon by 18mos. I'm not trying to brag....ok maybe just a little.....the point being his motor skills are amazing.
However, verbally, we're a swing and a miss. He knows words, pictures, colors, letters, numbers. If I say "Tyler point to the elephant" he'll pick the giant thing out of a line-up. But ask him to say elephant, or monkey, or tiger or anything even remotely easy, and you might as well be spitting in the wind. Mostly he just points and grunts ::shrug:: It' soooo frustrating.
His current vocabulary includes: dog (first word), ball, down, up, mama, dada, door, bubbles, diego (de go), Dora (dor dor), juice (ju). He's recently added the two word phrases: whats that and whats this. Except when he says it, it sounds more like the drunk guy from the bud light commercial several years ago...."Whazzzz At!?!"
Two days ago, almost as if he anticipated his 2nd birthday, he added a new phrase. The first time he said it, I had to sit down I laughed so hard. When he says this, he points at something then pats his chest and always says it twice....
I guess you could say he's spoiled