FML, SMH, IRL....whatever!

Fads/Sayings have a shelf life, so I've been told. When your grandmother gets in on the action you can officially say "that is so yesterday..." But what happens when you're a 31 yr old woman who witnessed the birth of the information super highway, grew up in the dot.com age and still hasn't a clue about what's hip, cool or popular? What then? Am I fad roadkill? Did I metaphorically get run over by the short bus to popular town with grandma at the wheel?

My glaring lack of hipness went all Chuck Norris on me last week when during a business luncheon with a potential client she fist bumped me across the table.

"Ya girl, that was a good sales pitch!" [bump]

The client was probably mid 40's and white. Not that it truly mattered, but it helps to quantify the situation. I hesitantly jerked my own hand into a fist, bumped her back and forced a smile. My face a clear signal I was befuddled while my head is screaming "What the hell just happened??"

This unfortunately is not an isolated incident. I often find myself Googling stuff I come across because I haven't a clue what the hell someone is talking about. Google, being the trusted reliable friend it is, keeps my secret.

The husband is even a constant reminder that I'm behind the times with my 2yr old blackberry. His "fancy" phone can do all sorts of things mine can't.

The husband: "Check this out! I can text you without touching a button! Watch this, watch this! Did you get it?? Sweet huh??" [nodding]

Me: [looking down at the text message] "Yea, whatever...."

The husband: [baby talking] "Aww don't be sore that you're crappy phone isn't sweet like mine. You can have mine when I upgrade to the newest thing next year!"

Not wanting to let the husband know I covet his "fancy" phone that plays angry birds; me, my pride and my crappy blackberry walked out of the room.

Read more...

Tap, tap, tap....remember me?

So.....it's been like FOREVER since I posted.

[slap]...Bad blogger....[slap]...Bad blogger...

I kinda lost my momentum/inspiration and fell pathetically short of the unwritten expectations of a blogger. But I'm gonna give this another shot and try like hell to maintain a modest goal of 3 posts per week.

Now that we've got that cleared up, I'm guessing a catch-up post would be appreciated. So let me see...what is new....

Oh, yes [ding!]......WE'RE PREGNANT! However, I feel that's a bit anticlimactic since most of my readers knew that already. But hey, a good general announcement never hurt anyone.

We're due with #2 in August, and honestly we're thrilled, we're ready for this next stage of our lives. Well, I should probably qualify the word thrilled* with one tiny disclaimer.

* 8 weeks of all day, nauseating, porcelain throne praying, meat smell aversion, not tonight honey I have a vomit headache, "morning sickness" is more than necessary to remind a woman that this was her brilliant idea, and that she should probably consider making this her last pregnancy.

And...moving on to other things of importance worth noting:

1) We're actively trying to potty training. Tyler, unfortunately has other ideas and is actively NOT potty training.

"Tyler do you need to use the potty?"

No [grunts]

"Are you sure....wait! Are you pooping?!?"

No

2) The husband and I are planning a short vacation (which happens to coincide with a business trip I'm being forced to take) to the beautiful Bay Area. This will be our first "vacation" since we got married almost 4 years ago, it's highly deserved/needed, and will most likely be the last "couple vacation" we get until we're both grey, crotchety and contemplating dentures.

3) We are spending an obscene amount of money finishing home improvement projects that were started over various periods of time, with good honest intentions, but for whatever pathetic reason were abandoned. We're forecasting that child #2 may be more than we bargained for and our spare time will become obsolete.

It was also determined, that future and forever New Year's resolutions for the husband will be: to NOT, under any circumstances, take the wife & the charge card to the Home Depot in the same trip, especially if she mentions "browsing", "getting ideas", "just looking" or any combination of those words.

4) We are waiting, not so patiently for Monday's big event of the gender ultrasound. The husband is slightly excited, he can be very apathetic. I, however, have hung my very existence on this determination. In my mind nothing can move forward in our lives until we know. It's it a girl, boy, girl, boy, girl, boy.....augh!!

I, although you'd never know it, bounce back and forth for weeks trying to decide if we'd find out or if we'd keep it a surprise. My sister unfortunately didn't find my indifference funny, she accused me of personally trying to torture her. She, is hanging her very existence on her sister providing her with a girl.

So, if I still have any readers left, I guarantee you I'll be better this time around than I have been in the past four months.

Read more...

Damn that was fun, what's next?

I'm not really a post-coital cuddler.

I'm more of a roll over and sleep or flip the TV on for some quick channel surfing kinda gal. I'm on the move, ready for the next best thing. [snap, snap, snap] Probably because late at night is the only time I can relax and hear my own thoughts without being drowned out by the unrecognizable chatter of a 2 yr old. It can be quite a distraction from my own personal reflective inner monologue.

The husband however, likes to spend quiet quality time just hugging, listening to each other breath and having small conversations. It's not that I don't appreciate that I have a sensitive romantic husband, one who tries relentlessly to engage me in his small romantic gestures. I'm just not a touchy feely kinda person. I'm easily distracted and I love my husband, in my own weird way.

But last night was too funny.

After the obligatory marital act, the husband tried once again to be sweet by offering a loving kiss. I, too involved in channel surfing for something to watch for when he fell asleep, gave a quick peck out the side of my mouth without bothering to look. The husband balked; claiming that my attempt was half-assed and I needed to pay attention, be sweet and romantic in return. I sighed and turned to face him. He leaned over again, puckered up and pierced the silence with a loud fart.

I froze, and cast him a glance with a wryly smile. His face turned crimson red and we both burst into laughter.

"Honey, this is why we can't be romantic, because stuff like that happens!"

Life is never like it is in the movies.

Read more...

The weight of a conversation

Why is it that everything always comes easier to men? Or at least SEEM like it does? Especially in the weight loss department.

My weight is the bane of my existence. I have battled with it for as long as I can remember. Up, down, up, down, up, up, up. The scale never moves in the preferred direction, and now thanks to motherhood, it's perpetually stuck at a very scary number.

I still daydream about losing weight. I imagine what my body would feel like to loose just 15-20 lbs. How sexy I could be. Oh, you like what you see huh?

I'd probably still have my mommy pooch but at least my ass wouldn't spread out wider than the seat of a normal size chair.

My daydreams have a material connection. I still cling to a pair of skinny jeans in hopes that one day I'll return to that size. A pair of jeans I've owned since pre freshman-15, pre sophomore 15, pre newly-wed 9, pre I'm in a comfortable loving relationship and I've stop worrying about what I look like naked therefore I gained 20 lbs.

Oh who am I kidding, I still worry about what I look like naked. Lights off please. I gained the 20lbs because the husband and I have a mutual love of food.

But yesterday was too much. Yesterday, was the cherry on my whipped cream pie of a life.

The husband texts me to make a casual observation. Really I think he was just trying to poke me when I was down.

Husband: "Damn, I've lost 10lbs since I went to the doctor last" (which was just 3 weeks ago)

Me: "I hate you"

Husband: "No really, I weighed myself on the scale in the back of the warehouse."

Long pause as I consider the mental picture of the husband standing on what I'm sure is a giant industrial scale used to weigh pallets of dog food.

Me: "Congratulations."

Husband: "Thanks"

Me: "You missed the sarcasm"

Husband: "Oh"

Read more...

Who, what, where, when & how?

Holy Toledo Batman!

Has it really been almost 4 weeks since my last post!?! I guess am the epitome of a slacker, but I promise I've got good reason.

It's been a rough several of weeks around our house. Illness, home renovations, personal pleasure, personal strife. We've had it all.

Tyler got sick in early October, runny nose, hacking cough, getting up several times a night. The usual MO for his colds. I followed suit shortly after thanks in part to many mommy hugs accompanied by a cough in the face and a snotty nose tracks on my sleeve. Gotta love toddlers. Round 1 lasted about a week and a half.

The husband was lucky enough to be taking his "vacation" right smack dab in the middle of round 1. I'll put "vacation" in quotation marks because we didn't really go anywhere, it was more of a mental vacation for him. My loving husband actually sacrificed his remaining 1 week vacation time to strip, sand & repaint our lower level. I knew there was a reason I loved him

The downside was, I was sick and the project was taking over the house. It was a disaster, and I didn't have the energy to clean up behind him. But it didn't much matter because the husband was home for an entire week.

I love it when he's home. I love having a normal home life, where we have dinner every night at 5pm as a family, I have an extra set of hands in the morning to wrangle and dressed a fickle toddler, not having to have normal marital conversations via text and just relaxing, watching TV and being content knowing my husband is in the same room with me.

What I don't love is my snoring, flat on his back, pillow stealing, blanket hogging, diagonal spread eagle sleeping husband. He is the WORST person to sleep with.

So sleep was very elusive that week he was home.

At the tail end of the husband's vacation he started to show signs of getting sick. Just as Tyler and I were starting to feel better.

But 3 days later Tyler got hives, again. The second time since August. Then he started running a fever, had a cough, a runny nose and had an earache. Begin Round 2. I freaked, all I could think of was Tyler had H1N1 (a quick shout out to the national media for their expertness in fear-mongering and their ability to make this normally sane, easy going mommy a nervous wreck). Even the nurses were thinking H1N1. Hence the lovely face mask.

The doctor, thankfully said it was just a sinus infection, prescribed some antibiotics and said he should be feeling better in about 48hrs. Whew!

That was Tuesday. By this past Saturday, I also began round 2 of sickness. This time, it was more sinus pressure than the achiness I had last time. Thank you Tyler. Mwah!

So, needless to say, our family is living in one giant petri dish of germs, just passing the ickies back and forth to each other.

Illness, however wasn't the only reason I failed to post. There is also an emotional factor involved.

While all of the lovely germies were being passed around and we were wallowing in our misery. The husband and I were pregnant.

I stress the were in that statement.

After a week and a half of dealing with a sickness, what I thought was a UTI and an early lackluster period, I tested positive on a Saturday morning.

The husband and I were ecstatic, because it is no secret that we've been trying since late July for #2. And despite all the signs that it might not look promising, we were giddy with excitement and could barely wait for the doctor's office to open Monday morning. We even called and told the husband's sister, my dad and my step mom.

However, after some blood work, a doctor's visit that she said everything looked great, and some more blood work it was determined that I was in fact miscarrying.

It was early. I was maybe 3-4 weeks. Barely pregnant, what doctors would call a "chemical pregnancy". There is no pain or discomfort, only the inconvenience of having a 3 week long period. But the emotional pain is not easily observed.

Due to personal family issues, our plans of trying for #2 had been put on hold for nearly a year. So by July, when I felt we were comfortable enough to begin trying, I was in full blown baby fever mode. The kind where your biological clock is beating you over the head with a hammer and you feel pangs of jealously for every woman you see lucky enough to be pregnant.

So I grieve. silently. Because I know this isn't the end of the road for us, it's just the beginning. But it doesn't lessen the pain. Just enforces the fact that we must start all over.

Ok, pity party for one over. There's my update. Onward and upward. And I promise to post again tomorrow. See you then.

Read more...

Turn it like this, stand on your head and close your eyes

I am not a geek.

I am not technologically savvy, I do not subscribe to wired magazine, I do not drool at the latest windows whatever release, I do not contemplate the efficiencies of a dual monitor workspace, I do not know the difference between a digital coaxial audio cable and a RCA cable, and I certainly do not know how to make a TV work without the remote.

I know just enough to get by. Which is to say, just enough to convince myself I can fix things and then proceed to royally screw them up. It's a gift.

So when our purchase of a new flat screen HDTV included a complementary visit from the "Geek Squad" to set up, unpackage, install and make everything all pretty, I all but squealed of excitement.

The guy came, he fixed, he left. Relatively uneventful.

The next day, the husband comes home, brushes a kiss across my cheek and deposits himself in the recliner in front of his new TV. Sometime later than night between re-runs of Backyardigans and watching a new episode of Ghost Hunters (excellent show by the way) the remote stops controlling the TV.

We try everything. we power off everything, reboot the receiver, change the batteries, switch remotes, switch boxes, switch positions and stood ridiculously close to the receiver, but nothing works. We were stuck with a brand new giant TV and a remote that isn't even worthy of being a paperweight.

I called AT&T technically support 3 times in 3 days. Every time, I spent 30 mins chattering with someone who's probably half way across the world, getting the scripted answers to my problem and no solution. On the third attempt, I finally talk with someone who actually speaks English as their native language and seems as if he just might be geeky enough to solve my problem.

I run through my issues and he stops and ponders what I've just said.

"Sounds like it might be an issue with your backlight"

really? that's what I thought [eyeroll]

"Ok, your gonna think I'm crazy..."

doubt it

"But my buddy told me about a trick to try."

I love it when geeks have buddies, they always have the answers.

"Turn the TV away from the receiver, put the receiver behind the TV, and try putting a blanket over the screen"

your right, I think you're crazy

But it was worth a shot.

So there I was, cordless phone perched on my shoulder, the TV sitting whopper-jawed on the blanket chest, a waffle weave blanket draped over the screen, Tyler vehemently protesting against his ability to sit within a foot of the TV and watch Diego, the dog barking at the commotion, trying persistently to point the remote and make the menu button work, and the AT&T techie barking directions over the chaos.

Then it happened. The menu popped up.

My hands instinctively raised above my head in my own personal celebration. I had never felt more satisfied. I fixed something! Hallelujah!

I was giggling as I relayed my success to the techie on the other end of the phone. He congratulated me, requested that I respond favorably to the "customer service survey" I'll receive via email, and hung up.

Then it hit me. One can't possible watch TV with this set up.

What the hell am I going to do now?!?

By now, Tyler had figured out that he could stick his head under the blanket, lean on the blanket chest and watch Diego even closer. I pulled the blanket off his head, scooped him up under each arm and plopped him down about 3 feet from the TV.

"Stay" I motion to him.

I turn around to survey the situation and took a deep breath.

About 3 hours later, I had unstrung, unplugged, restrung, plugged in and shifted just about every component in our entertainment center and finally had a working system.

It looked like a hillbilly trailer park mess. Wires hanging everywhere, speakers propped up, nails punched into the walls and a plastic ficus tree attempting to hide a power cord.

But....it still worked.

I felt invincible.

Tyler and I celebrated my success with a bowl of pretzels and a cold glass of apple cider.

Read more...

18 going on 30

As a 29 year old woman, I'm caught in this weird place of don't remind me I'll be 30 in 3 months, but also don't card me for alcohol or I'm gonna huff, pout and fling my drivers license at you.

I also keep trying to avoid conversations with my besties about a "big 3-0" birthday party in November. Honestly I'd much rather just celebrate with a card, a nice present, some cake, lots of alcohol and then head to bed.

I'm exciting like that.

Who knows, maybe I'll "be with child" and this will all work itself out. I just don't feel like being reminded that I'll be "over-the-hill" this year.

30 is the new 50 ya know.

Especially, when the husband is 3 years younger than me. Well, technically between June 26th and November 1st, he's 2 years younger, but for a majority of the year he's 3. He loves to remind me of this any chance he gets, especially at birthday's. For the past 2 years he's given me a "Happy Birthday you're 30" card. I'll open it and grimace. He, of course, throws his head back and cackles, because it's SOOO freaking funny.

Some days I just want to poke his eyes out.

However karma returned the favor and bit him in the butt the other day.

He got carded for trying to buy a mega millions lotto ticket, in a liquor store, at 1pm, with 2 day old stubble.

I laughed so hard I almost peed.

Maybe for his birthday next year I'll get him a binky and a bottle. The man does have a baby face.

I bet he'll find it just about as funny as I find the inappropriate birthday cards.

Read more...

Monkey see, Monkey do

I'm gonna have to start watching what I say and do. Tyler is much more impressionable than I ever imagined.

On Sunday morning, I was lucky enough to con the husband into watching Tyler while I went to the grocery store. Usually I drag the husband in tow, to avoid the otherwise inevitable complaining about what I buy.

Why did you buy this kind of bread....I don't like diet pop....You bought the wrong kind of granola bars....But I don't want this kind of cereal this week, yes I realize I ate it last week, but I wanted something different.

To this my standard response is "I had a coupon, it was on sale, live with it"

So on Sunday, he promised not to complain about anything I bought and allowed me to venture out on my own. It was blissful, even if it was 9am on a Sunday, I hadn't bothered to brush my hair, and threw on the first thing that looked half way clean.

I took my time driving to the store. I paused early at the stoplights that began to turn red. I used my turn signals, I parked a few rows away from the entrance for the extra exercise, I even bought a $4 cup of coffee at Starbucks because I knew there wouldn't be anyone to knock it over while he threw a hissy fit because mommy wouldn't let him eat the whole bag of grapes while we shopped.

I checked prices against my coupons, I evaluated the best buys with the cost per ounce sticker on the shelves. I even made a few personal phone calls while I leisurely walked the quiet, empty aisles. I was almost a little sad when I realized my shopping list was completed and I had to checkout.

But all good things must come to an end, so I drove back to the house, slowly, trying to formulate a plan that allowed solo grocery trips every week. Shouldn't be too hard. Men hate the grocery store, right?

The husband and I unloaded the car, dragged the bags inside and plopped them down on the counters. Because we'd rather cut circulation off to our fingers then make more than one trip, it only took a minute.

Tyler, eager to help out, grabbed a grocery bag off the counter and began pulling it's contents out and whipping them onto the kitchen floor. Once that bag was finished, he stood and reached for another one. In an effort to avoid a great mess, I handed him the package of diapers and asked him to go put them in his room.

He smiled his huge smile and quickly turned and ran for the stairs. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, planted his feet, leaned back, swung his arms behind him and tried to chuck the diapers up the stairs.

I laughed. I laughed so hard I almost cried. Because for all the times we've gone to the store, all the times I've come back realizing that the trip took longer than it should have and it sent me into turbo mode. All the times I would quickly de-bag the items, slamming them down on the counter, rushing around and then stand at the bottom of the stairs, hurling baby and bath products up the stairs into the hallway to "make-up time". It never occurred to me that this might not be a great example to set.

It never occurred to me that this would be something he'd pick-up on. Of all the things he could learn, he could copy, he decides my bad habit of "out of sight, out of mind" was the one he'd take. Figures.

I guess he's his mother's son after all.

Read more...

The do-it-yourselfers

I think I know why people get divorced.

They buy a 30 year old house that needs a lot of cosmetic updates. Then attempt to make said improvements, together, on a Saturday, that is 90 degrees, while their 2 yr old son runs around wreaking havoc in the garage, and their basset hound, who suffers from extreme separation anxiety, howls, cries and scratches incessantly at the front door to be let out.

This kind of situation leads to lapses in judgment, injuries and the husband growling every 10 mins under his breath that "We should have just hired someone".

Perhaps, but I'm too cheap.

So after 5 hours, 2 re-dos, a 100+ curse words, three head injuries, 2 marital spats, one inquisitive neighbor who just smirked and calmly walked backwards out of the conversation, and a very large gap, we still do not have a fully functional screen door.

I may have ultimately resisted saying "I told you so" about the molding, but he did get his way and called "the guy".

The good news is we're still married. And the door will be fixed by Friday.

Read more...

Wanted: A shopaholics support group

Most people have hobbies.

Activities or projects that they find soothing, relaxing and enjoyable. Sometimes these hobbies are simple and inexpensive and other times they are intricate and costly. But regardless, the cost is usually seen as an investment in a persons happiness.

I don't have any hobbies. I have shopping. It makes me happy.

It's my obsession passion. I can shopping for hours looking for the best deal on stuff. Occasionally on items I really don't need. But I can't pass up a great deal. It's these times when I'm tempted to hide my purchases from the husband and lie about what I've just bought.

It's not buyers remorse, it's the fear of being caught.

These are the times when I get a glimpse of the fact that I may have a problem.

I never have a problem, however, convincing the husband that my purchases for Tyler are in his best interest. See how happy it makes him?

The husband just shrugs and remarks "No wonder he loves his mommy best, she spoils him rotten"

Perhaps. But I don't see "Over-enthusiastic provider" listed on the 7 deadly sins, so I'm thinking I'm in the clear.

Take for example my latest trip to Target (always dangerous). I was on a mission to find bugs. The small little life-like plastic toys that little boys love to gross-out adults females with. I'd gotten a tip from my mommy underground sources (the nesties) that there were some cheap $1 ones at Target. So off I went, immediately after work.

What I found in the clearance section was perfect. A small tube of butterflys, lady bugs and dragon flys for $1. I even found a "bug house" to keep them all in for $3. I'd really hit pay-dirt today.

As we turned to leave, we rounded a corner and saw it. On the end cap. A 42-piece, Black n Decker tool set. Complete with hard hat and tool belt. It was awe inspiring.

Tyler currently had a 7 piece set with a little tool box that he carried everywhere we went. He'd gotten it for Christmas and would even get it out and attempt to help when Daddy did small home repairs.

But THIS set was different. THIS set dwarfed the other set by a mile. It had a hammer, 2 screwdrivers, a drill, a hack saw, a level, a speed square, a wood shaver, a c-clamp, a socket wrench, a pipe wrench, a ratchet set, a tape measure, pliers, and a million little bolts, nuts and nails. It was everything a little boy needed. He HAD to have it.

And Mommy was happy to oblige. So in the cart it went, along with the bugs and bug house. No sense in putting back a great deal.

We got it home, unwrapped all the piecey parts and splayed them across the living room floor. That's when it occured to us that they all wouldn't fit in his old tool box. We were gonna need a bigger box.





The husband just shook his head when he came home that night and saw the carnage. Because sadly the bugs were a distant second to his new tool set.







See even Fred the dog is concerned my shopping habits may have gotten out of control.

Good thing I don't listen to the dog.

Read more...

Forward Friday - Male Language Dictionary

As a follow-up to my Female Language Dictionary post, I felt it was only fair to offer an alternate point of view.

Really the husband was using my post to refine his smart ass skills and I needed some ammo.

So enjoy! I know I did.

Male Language Dictionary

I'm hungry - I'm hungry

I'm sleepy - I'm sleepy

I'm tired - I'm tired

Nice dress - Nice cleavage!

I love you - Let's have sex now

I'm bored - Do you want to have sex?

What's wrong - I guess sex tonight is out of the question

I love you, too - Okay, I said it...we'd better have sex now!

May I have this dance? - I'd eventually like to have sex with you

Can I call you sometime? - I'd eventually like to have sex with you

Do you want to go to a movie? - I'd eventually like to have sex with you

Can I take you out to dinner? - I'd eventually like to have sex with you

Will you marry me? - I want to make it illegal for you to have sex with other guys

Let's talk - I am trying to impress you by showing that I am a deep person so that you'll have sex with me

I don't think those shoes go with that outfit - I am gay

Read more...

Male firefighters come equipt with their own firehoses

I was wet.

Damp really.

But I wasn't wet like I'd stood in the front lawn under the sprinkler on a hot mid-summer day.

More like I'd received a sprinkle from the arch of water cascading across the yard.

Worse yet, it wasn't water at all. It was pee. I'd been peed on. Again.

Tyler had just snuggled up next to me when I felt a warm sensation on my side. He'd sat just right so that the stream of pee escaped out the top of the diaper and trickled down my shirt.

I don't know why I was surprised. After 2 1/2 years, I'd been peed on more than I'd ever thought was possible.

Early on, the concept of "springing a leak" was foreign to me. I'd change every diaper without a second thought. Until the first time it happened.

I detached the each side flap and folded down the front. I looked away and as I reached over for a baby wipe, I felt something dribble across my head, down my forehead and drip onto my chest.

I looked up, wiped my forehead with the back of my hand and realized Tyler was peeing. Straight up. With perfect aim at my head.

I screamed. Why? Because I'm a girl. Because it'd never happened before. Because I'd been caught off guard and was stunned. Because for a split second I had to consider the fact that I might be on candid camera.

It took me a good minute to collect myself, finish the diaper change, and head into the bathroom to towel off.

I called the husband to relay the events. He burst out laughing and had to hang up. He was still laughing about it when he came home that night.

About a week later the husband was on diaper duty when it happened to him.

I just stood outside the room and chuckled to myself.

Wouldn't be the last time either one of us would receive a "yellow shower"

Read more...

Clean the closet; the vacuum is trying to kill me

The cleaning bug bit me over the weekend.

But it wasn't the giant Madagascar hissing cockroach cleaning bug, it was more of a small mosquito that annoys and pricks me just before I slap it flat against my arm.

So to satisfy this small annoyance of a bug, I decided to clean out the hall closet that had long been ignored and was in desperate need of a clean and toss session. It was the only location I could store my vacuums, however with the massive amounts of other unrelated "junk" collecting at the top and bottom of the closet, I took my life in my own hands every time I opened the door.

After about 15 mins of pulling everything out and tossing it indiscreetly over my head into a pile behind me I reached the back of the closet.

What I found, stuffed in the far recesses of the black hole of a hall closet was a small, yellow and white gingham check fabric tote with white canvas handles. My mothers diaper bag she had carried when my sister and I were a baby. Knowing my mother, she more than likely sewed it herself. She had been crafty like that.

The handles were yellowed with use and the white wasn't white anymore; almost ivory. There was a large brownish stain on the one corner, and it had the distinct pattern of a leak (probably baby oil). And inside were a pair of black patent leather soft soled mary-janes; size 2. My baby shoes.

The woman in me looked longingly at these shoes and envisioned my own unborn daughter wearing them some day. While the pack-rat in me quickly tried to process where to stash this that won't be forgotten later. I settled with placing the bag at the top of the stairs for the interim.

About an hour later I was finished with the closet and the husband had finished with his "honey-do" project and we were both straightening up the house. Read: picking crap up so it looked less like a mess and more like we actually cared enough to be neat.

I need to preface the rest of the story with this: the husband puts his foot in his month; regularly. And from an observers perspective it can be painful to watch. It's as if the world is a TV show, with the closed captioning on and the subtitles a good 5 seconds ahead of the action. You see the thoughts and dialogue spelled out ahead of time but you are unable to intervene and prevent the words. All you can do is sigh and shake your head at the absurdity of it all.

As we climbed the stairs he spotted the small bag. He lifted the bag up from it's resting place at the top of the stairs and looks at me sideways.

"What is this? This is the ugliest purse I have ever seen. Why would you buy something like this?"

I just looked at the husband dumbstruck by his idiotic statement. He'd done it again.

"That was my mother's diaper bag and those were my baby shoes"

The husband turned a crimson shade of red and sheepishly hung his head.

"Oh...I'm sorry, it's lovely, it really is beautiful" as he handed me back the bag.

I love the guy, but some days I swear I don't know him.

Read more...

Forward Friday - female language dictionary

The husband is always complaining he is not a mind reader and he is constantly one step behind what I'm talking about. So I thought I'd put together a little cheat sheet for him. Strong communication makes a strong couple.

The Female Dictionary

Yes - No

No - Yes

Maybe - No

We need - I want

I'm sorry - You'll be sorry

We need to talk - I need to complain

Does my butt look big in this? - Tell me I'm beautiful

Do what you want - You'll pay for this later

I'm not upset - Of course I'm upset, you moron!

Are you listening to me?? - Too late, you're dead

You have to learn to communicate - Just agree with me

Be romantic, turn out the lights - I have flabby thighs

Do you love me? - I'm going to ask for something expensive

It's your decision - The correct decision should be obvious by now

How much do you love me? - I did something today that you're really not going to like

Fine - This is the word we use to end an argument when we are right and you need to shut up.

Five Minutes - If we're getting dressed, this means a half an hour. Five minutes is only five minutes if you have just been given five more minutes to watch the game before helping around the house.

Nothing - This word should sent alarms off. This means something, and you should be on your toes. Arguments that begin with nothing usually end in fine.

Go Ahead - This is a dare, not permission. Don’t Do It!

Loud Sigh - This is actually a word, but is a non-verbal statement often misunderstood by men. A loud sigh means we think you are an idiot and we wonder why we are wasting our time standing here and arguing with you about nothing. (Refer back to # 3 for the meaning of nothing.)

That’s Okay - A very dangerous word. That’s okay means we want you to think long and hard before deciding how and when you will pay for your mistake.

Thanks* - We are thanking you, do not question, or faint. Just say you’re welcome.

(* unless we say ‘Thanks a lot’ - this is PURE sarcasm and we are not thanking you at all. DO NOT say ‘you’re welcome.’ that will bring on a ‘whatever’).

Whatever - This is woman speak for FUCK YOU!

Don’t worry about it, I got it - This means there is something that a we have asked you to do several times, but we are now doing it ourself.

This will later result in a man asking ‘What’s wrong?’ To which we will respond 'Nothing'.

It's a vicious cycle, just do the task we asked the the first time to avoid the headache.

Read more...

Paging Dad

The other night at our house.

Scene:
The husband had just come home from being on the road for two days, dropped his belongings at the front door and headed straight for the bathroom. Tyler excited to show him something and unsure where he went stood at the bottom of the steps.

"Dad!?"

pause

"Dad!?"

shorter pause

"Dad!?"

even shorter pause

"Daaaaaad!?"

Me (shouting equally as loud): "Buddy, Daddy is in the bathroom"

"Oh ya!"

thump thump thump thump thump thump up the stairs he ran. And stood outside the bathroom door.

pound pound pound

"Dad!?"

The husband: "Buddy I'm in the bathroom, give me a minute"

Tyler stood patiently, waiting for the husband to open the door, giggled, and took off running.

The husband looks at me quizzically and I just shrugged and laughed.

Read more...

Bad decisions

Man cannot live by bread alone.

Maybe, but I'm pretty sure I could survive on diet sierra mist, ice cream, pizza and Sonic if given a choice.

I may weight 400 lbs and wear a blue Hawaiian print mu mu, but hey we weren't talking about my priorities.

As many of you know I tend to have extremely memorable experiences with fast food drive thrus. Since I haven't had one in a while, I guess I was due.

Take for example this evening:

I knew full well and good that after a bad run-in with some sour cream potato chips for lunch, my stomach wasn't up to anything remotely outlandish. But Sonic was on the agenda with my bestie, so who am I to pass up a trip through the drive thru of our all time favorite place to pig out.

After my bestie and I had finished ordering our usual combo meals, the worker asked if we wanted to take advantage of the free "Route 44" upgrade.

Did you say free? Why sure! Absolutely upgrade our beverages!

Bad.i.de.a.

When the very "fluffy" black lady with frizzy black hair that had a 2ft diameter and that I'm pretty certain would not fit through the drive thru window handed us our "Route 44" upgrade drinks, I blurted out the first thing that crossed my lips

Good Lord! Look at the size of that!

She narrowed her eyes and glared at me before sternly shutting the drive thru window and trotted over to retreive our bag of food. Maybe she thought I was talking about her hair...

The darn things won't even fit in my cup holders!

My bestie and I just giggled and happily slurped.

Except I wouldn't be giggling about 3 hours later when my attempts to finish said "Route 44" upgrade left me bloated, nauseous and in desperate need of tums. I lay on our bed, spread eagle, willing my distended belly to deflate. The husband tried hard not to laugh at me and resisted the urge to poke at my stomach.

I guess that means no fooling around tonight, huh?

I gave him my "What do you think" look and smacked his hand away.

Sadly, after a very productive bathroom break, I can reflect on my Sonic decision today, and say with 100% confidence, that I'd do it all again tomorrow.

[shrug] What can I say, Sonic and I are like "this". We are there for each other.

Read more...

Soft toys are good

Boys throw things.

Consider it good practice to becoming the star quarterback every father dreams their son will become. However, given the husband and I's genetics, Tyler will probably end up a beefy, sweaty middle linebacker. Sorry kid, an underwear model you won't be. But that's another post...

Boys throw, fling, toss, chuck, hurl, pitch, heave, lob, cast, and wing an assortment of items. Even things that aren't suppose to be thrown.

I can remember my sister telling the story of my oldest nephew winging a wooden toy train four pews up and beaning some little old church lady in the back of the head right in the middle of the pastor's sermon. And when the little old lady turned around to identify the culprit, my sister took the blame like an adult. Me, I would have displayed my astonishment face, thumbed behind me and kinda shrugged. No sense causing a scene in church, who knows what church ladies carry in their large handbags.

Tyler, for a 2yr old boy, has a pretty good arm (mental note: no wooden trains in church). He'll wind up, arm back above his head his left leg hiked up to his chest, stomp down and grunt as he throws the ball hurtling it across the room. To him, this is awesome.

He has also started throwing temper tantrums. Mind you, these aren't the first, and they certainly won't be the last. But they are the first that involve throwing object to display his frustration.

So his frustration with mommy saying "no" coupled with his mutant he-man arm, sends me diving for cover behind the sofa.

The husband, however just sits on the couch, unfazed, with a gleam in his eye daydreaming about his son, the starting pitcher for the Cleveland Indians, as a plastic squeaky ball bounces off his forehead.

Read more...

Forward Friday

Thought I'd start something new and see if it sticks. Every Friday I'll post a forward that I find funny just to share. I realize it's not Friday, but this week it's "like" Friday...so there!

I get forwards all.the.time. Usually they're pretty lame...

"If you pass this along to 50 of your friends and make a wish, it'll come true by midnight the Tuesday after the next full moon."

I wish for an Italian swimsuit model to clean my kitchen, do my laundry, wait on me hand and foot and feed me strawberries in bed every night. You gonna make THAT happen? I'm throwing the bullshit flag.

OR

"I'm sending you this forward to tell you how special you are to me, and here let me put a few cutesy pictures of puppies and kittens just to make this forward even more gag worthy."

My true friends know that I really show them I care by not forwarding this crap. The buck stops here, cowboy.

However, every once in a while I get one that's pretty funny, and sadly mirrors my own life.

In this example, it's not me but the husband that wants a riding mower.

Do you think he'd go for this? I could probably find a spare bike on Craigslist...

The Riding Lawn Mower

My wife always wanted a riding lawn mower.

She works all day and was always tired when she came home from work and thought that a riding lawn mower would help her get the yard work done quicker so she would have more time for the chores inside the house.

SO, being the handy sort of guy that I am, I made her a riding lawn mower.

I guess I thought she would squeal with delight or something and give me a big hug.

To this day I have never been able to understand why some women are so hard to please...

Read more...

Peanuts and Cracker Jacks

(Me and the husband)

Webster's dictionary defines "Quip" as: a witty or funny observation or response usually made on the spur of the moment.

Case in point: Saturday night. The husband's 27th birthday get together at the local AAA baseball game with our closest friends. The game was a blow out, 10 - 5 Durham, with the opposing team scoring 4 runs in the first inning. As devastating as this was, we managed.

The terrace was rented private, the beer was paid for, the wings and traditional ball game food was hot and good, and someone had brought a camera. The queen of drunk, humorous, random statements had brought her "A" game and had all of us laughing, even the waitress. Who we secretly think wished she had been assigned to another table.


(Erin and Ashley)

"I am the world's best drunks" - Erin


(Me and Erin, posing)

"You know what we need? Shots! Waitress bring us shots." - Erin
"Well, because it's late, you can have a shot of whiskey, whiskey and...whiskey" - Waitress
"Whiskey it is, 3 please" - Erin
"No, no whiskey, you don't know where any of your hair ties are" - Joe


(Erin and the orange)

"Oh look, the special Olympic people are spelling out O-H-I-O" -Erin
"No honey, they are singing Y-M-C-A" -Joe
"Oh damn, I spelled it wrong" -Erin


(Ashley and Matt)

"Ok, what did I miss?" -Tommy
"I don't know, I wasn't paying attention." -Me
"Stop talking about shopping and pay attention we're at a ballgame for christ's sake!"
-Tommy


(Joe and Erin)

"Do you know how awesome it would be to mow that grass? (the ball field) I should get a part time job here" -Erin



"How in the world do you score that many points?" -Erin
"Erin, honey it's runs not points" -Me
"Runs, points, touchdowns, whatever" -Erin
"Oh my god, she's going to give me an aneurysm" -Joe


(Joe needing more beer)

"Dude, we suck" -Joe

"Honey give the players a break, maybe they're having a bad day, Oh! I know this song...

do, do, do, do, do, do, charge! [pumping her fist high in the air]

"Ok honey, what were we talking about?" -Erin


(Erin and Joe)

"Sarah, get together with Terry, I want to take your picture" -Me
"No, I'm eating." -Sarah
"She doesn't do pictures, but you can take my picture" -Terry


(Terry, with Sarah in the background)

"Steal home dude! We're gonna score Joe, we're gonna finally score!" [screaming like an giant idiot] -Tommy

Read more...

Public Service Announcement

As millions of Americans strive to eat healthier and take better care of themselves, there remains a sub-group of the population that resists healthy eating. They turn their backs on Omega 3's and whole wheat. Maintaining that their larger mid-section is a "love-machine" or that their women love them just the way they are. This sub-group is The Husbands.

The Husbands are a product of their environment. The were reared in households where food was the vehicle to obtain their father's daydream of a middle linebacker as a son. Only to the wake up 15 years later and realize their bodies have not kept up with their eating habits. The college lifestyle can also attribute to an expanding waistline. Long nights of beer, pizza and ramen does not a healthy man make.

In order to protect your love investment, be sure to recognize the signs of an unhealthy eater. The sooner action is taken, the better the success rate. Do not attempt to encourage outdoor activities to promote weight loss until a healthier diet is implemented. The Husbands will feel excessive unhealthy eating is warranted if exercise has taken place.

Be very careful adjusting the subjects diet. They have been known to lash out when faced with change that they did not initiate. Especially in the case of their food, of which they can be highly protective. Modifications to their diet to promote health and well being must be done discretely, and should be inconspicuous. Below are several suggestions that will help result in success.

- Do not be afraid to switch containers. The Husbands can not recognize lite miracle whip from mayonnaise if jar looks the same.

- The Husbands tend to shovel. Capitalize on this opportunity by hiding vegetables in the meatloaf.

- Buy lite beer, and claim the store was out of the "usual". Desperation can be a powerful motivator.

- Spaghetti sauce is just the perfect shade of red to hide the slight color difference of whole wheat pasta.

- Tofu that is diced correctly and tossed in a stir fry and smothered with teriayki sauce can not be discerned from chicken.

- Put cheese on it. Remember: buy 2% and hide the bag.

- Ground turkey looks exactly like ground beef once it's been browned.

- A box of chocolate cake mix and a can of diet coke. Taste and appearances can be deceiving.

- A heavy coat of breading can conceal a healthy piece of fish. Be sure to invest in a "steaky" fish and call it chicken.

It is extremely important not to disclose your intentions or your actions. This can result in a devastating setback of hostile resistance. Not to mention your credibility as a provider. Take small steps and always maintain your innocence. Perseverance is key to your success. Good Luck.

Read more...