A friend said I needed to update my blog because she was tired of seeing the “turd.” WHAT? How could that be, I thought. It’s so classy! But I suppose the novelty of a turd monster movie only lasts so long.
I know I haven’t been good about writing consistently. In the grand scheme of things, it hasn’t been that important to me. I mean, on the long list of things I haven’t really excelled at lately, sharing random and meaningless information (reference previous post) hasn’t been my highest goal.
There are several things I’ve been thinking about and hopefully I’ll be able to sit down at some point and assemble those thoughts in writing. I think my writing will change to some degree over the next few months. Motherhood has made me more reflective and I find myself desiring to be less cynical of the world around me. Some sense of sarcasm will always be in my pocket. It makes good humor. But, in the midst of road rage, criticisms, and complaints, there are beautiful moments in life I seldom savor. I often opt for the more humorous approach at the expense of sharing the meaningful side of life’s lessons. And if you visit this blog specifically for the turd movie type entries, don’t worry- I can’t be all sentimental and meaningful every time. I just need more balance.
It’s Christmas. Stop reading blogs. Turn off your computers. Turn off your TVs. Spend some quality time with the people in your life. Pick up the phone instead of sending an e-mail. Handwrite a note to someone you love. Be a friend. Help a stranger. Play with your kids. Appreciate your spouse. Talk. Laugh. Love. Thank God for all you have, then apologize for taking it for granted. Merry Christmas.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Just in case you're looking for something to watch this weekend!
I was browsing through Netflix this morning and came across this gem. It's available to watch instantly in case you're interested. You're welcome.
Movie Synopsis: Serial killer Jack Schmidt is a fugitive who has the police and FBI hot on his trail. After being cornered and wounded by law enforcement authorities, he falls into a sewage tunnel where the chemical company Dutech has also been dumping its toxic waste. The poisonous mixture of feces and chemicals mysteriously transforms Jack into a part-human, part-feces monster who sets out on a deadly rampage.
(And just in case you can't read the poster: "It's not just a movie, it's a movement," and "My butt cheeks are clenched in anticipation of Popko and West's next film." Mine too!)
Friday, October 30, 2009
Drew's News
I hope I'm back for good now. I need the therapy. The past month has been full and there are a few random entries in my pocket that I hope to pull out in the next few days. I've spent the past week working on a separate blog about Drew for our out-of-town family and friends. Since our families are in Minnesota and Mississippi, we needed a way for them to watch Drew grow. Not everyone has a Facebook account and I didn't want A Square View to become a baby blog, so I created Drew's News. If you're interested in seeing pictures and videos (coming soon) of the boy, you can find the blog link on my Facebook account. I'd prefer to keep my son's business among family and friends, so I won't link it here.
I'll be spending some time in therapy (aka blogging) this afternoon in order to share some random thoughts I've had in the past month about weight loss, motherhood, the homeless, etc. Thanks for being patient with me.
I'll be spending some time in therapy (aka blogging) this afternoon in order to share some random thoughts I've had in the past month about weight loss, motherhood, the homeless, etc. Thanks for being patient with me.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Diet Diary- Entry #8
Dear Diary,
I thought watching the Biggest Loser would motivate me toward my weight loss, but it’s only made me feel guilty about eating a cupcake while watching all those people work out so hard. Man, they are really working up a sweat. I broke a sweat today too. I forget to turn the air conditioner back down when we returned home from running errands and it was hot in this house. I mean the chocolate icing on the cupcakes was runny!
I broke out the Tae Bo DVD the other day, but only made it a third of the way through. That Billy Blanks is in good shape. Of course HE made it through the whole thing. I hope to make it even further when I do it again this week. I should probably increase my workouts, especially since I’ve recovered from those fifty crunches and twenty push ups I did all last week. And when I say “all last week,” I mean last Tuesday. Sigh. This fitness endeavor his harder than I thought.
I thought watching the Biggest Loser would motivate me toward my weight loss, but it’s only made me feel guilty about eating a cupcake while watching all those people work out so hard. Man, they are really working up a sweat. I broke a sweat today too. I forget to turn the air conditioner back down when we returned home from running errands and it was hot in this house. I mean the chocolate icing on the cupcakes was runny!
I broke out the Tae Bo DVD the other day, but only made it a third of the way through. That Billy Blanks is in good shape. Of course HE made it through the whole thing. I hope to make it even further when I do it again this week. I should probably increase my workouts, especially since I’ve recovered from those fifty crunches and twenty push ups I did all last week. And when I say “all last week,” I mean last Tuesday. Sigh. This fitness endeavor his harder than I thought.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
And this is why we don't go for walks in our neighborhood.
*found on the store around the corner from our house
Prostitutes, drug dealers, and loiterers beware!!
Friday, September 11, 2009
I'll take the vegetarian cookie, please!
Ummm, GROSS!
This is at the Subway down the street.
Who says punctuation and sentence structure aren't important?
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Changing my ways before it's death by chocolate.
Cardboard flavored popcorn. Yum, yum. I wanted, of course, to buy the kind that was drenched in butter- that I would want to shovel in by the handfuls, but that would defeat my purpose in eating popcorn in the first place. I normally don’t eat popcorn. When I’m living without any sense of awareness for my health and well-being, I eat sugar. And if that were the case now, I’d be sitting here snacking on a king-sized Reese’s peanut butter cup. It’s a lot more fun to not care how few of my pants I can still wear. But since it’s slightly embarrassing to still be wearing maternity jeans when my baby is three months old, I’ve decided to make some changes in my eating habits.
For the record, I have lost 31 pounds since Drew was delivered. Also for the record, I had gained twice that in nine months. Let’s top that off with the 10 pounds I had gained on our honeymoon and that equals something similar to cottage cheese and marshmallows. I know what you’re thinking. How long was your honeymoon? Yeah, that would be a week. Yes, I said 10 pounds. That’s what happens when you go to an all-inclusive resort where there is an unlimited amount of food and drink at your disposal. Three of the resort restaurants offered nightly buffets. We didn’t always go to ALL three EVERY night. For the record.
So, Jon and I both decided we were going to work toward being healthier… after we got back from the Minnesota State Fair over Labor Day weekend. ‘Cause let’s be honest, I’m not going anywhere near the fruit stand at the Fair. Not unless it’s next to the funnel cake stand. In which case I may see the fruit stand more than once.
Now that we’ve eaten our way through the MN State Fair, we have committed ourselves to a healthier lifestyle. I’m not sure how cardboard popcorn fits into that category, other than it provides me with a snack that won’t directly attach itself to my hips… and it keeps me from gnawing my arm off while I think about soaking in a tub of chocolate and peanut butter. And just so I don’t cave into that glorious reality, I’m sharing my endeavor with you. Accountability is a b@#*^. I’ll be updating my progress on the side bar, along with periodic “Diet Diary” entries- although it’s changing my diet, not a diet.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to close my eyes and think of M&Ms while I chew on some more cardboard.
For the record, I have lost 31 pounds since Drew was delivered. Also for the record, I had gained twice that in nine months. Let’s top that off with the 10 pounds I had gained on our honeymoon and that equals something similar to cottage cheese and marshmallows. I know what you’re thinking. How long was your honeymoon? Yeah, that would be a week. Yes, I said 10 pounds. That’s what happens when you go to an all-inclusive resort where there is an unlimited amount of food and drink at your disposal. Three of the resort restaurants offered nightly buffets. We didn’t always go to ALL three EVERY night. For the record.
So, Jon and I both decided we were going to work toward being healthier… after we got back from the Minnesota State Fair over Labor Day weekend. ‘Cause let’s be honest, I’m not going anywhere near the fruit stand at the Fair. Not unless it’s next to the funnel cake stand. In which case I may see the fruit stand more than once.
Now that we’ve eaten our way through the MN State Fair, we have committed ourselves to a healthier lifestyle. I’m not sure how cardboard popcorn fits into that category, other than it provides me with a snack that won’t directly attach itself to my hips… and it keeps me from gnawing my arm off while I think about soaking in a tub of chocolate and peanut butter. And just so I don’t cave into that glorious reality, I’m sharing my endeavor with you. Accountability is a b@#*^. I’ll be updating my progress on the side bar, along with periodic “Diet Diary” entries- although it’s changing my diet, not a diet.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to close my eyes and think of M&Ms while I chew on some more cardboard.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
"My milkshake brings..." umm, a big headache.
Here’s a shocker: I’m going to talk about food. If you’ve been around me in the past… oh eleven months, you know it’s been a bit of an obsession- as evidenced by the pregnancy pounds I packed on. You’ll start seeing more entries about food because after this weekend I’m embarking on a serious weight loss campaign. Why put off till Tuesday what I could do today? It’s called the Minnesota State Fair. Corn Dogs. Funnel Cakes. Roasted Corn. Need I say more? I mean, what’s five more pounds in the grand scheme of things really? But, more about that later.
This entry is about one food item in particular: milkshakes. Did I miss something about milkshakes? I remember when you could use a pay phone for a dime (I should just say I remember pay phones at this point), when a bottled coke was 25 cents, and when you could drink milkshakes through a straw. Try that now and you’ll end up sucking your teeth down your throat. Sonic recently had a $2.99 burger and shake special that I took advantage of more than once. Cellulite be damned. That’s a bargain- I don’t care who you are. The last milkshake I got there was so thick that I turned my cup upside down and shook it. Not a drop fell. I’m not even sure there was milk in that thing. Or liquid of any kind. And they gave me a straw with it. A STRAW. Were they taunting me? Was that some kind of a cruel joke? I had to use the straw as a spoon. It took me two days to eat that thing.
Today, I got a milkshake from Jack in the Box. Shut up. I already know I’m fat. The girls at the window handed me a straw and asked if I needed a spoon. I declined.
“Have you ever had one before?” she asked. As if she couldn’t tell I’d been eating a lot of milkshakes! I said I had and she gave me this pitiful look as I drove away. Probably because she knew I was about to suck my brain into my stomach.
I don’t understand why milkshakes have become so menacing. I swear, I think you burn all the calories you’re eating by the time you work that hard to get it down. It’s a good thing I’m about to get skinny. Exercising is one thing, but drinking a milkshake is just too much work.
This entry is about one food item in particular: milkshakes. Did I miss something about milkshakes? I remember when you could use a pay phone for a dime (I should just say I remember pay phones at this point), when a bottled coke was 25 cents, and when you could drink milkshakes through a straw. Try that now and you’ll end up sucking your teeth down your throat. Sonic recently had a $2.99 burger and shake special that I took advantage of more than once. Cellulite be damned. That’s a bargain- I don’t care who you are. The last milkshake I got there was so thick that I turned my cup upside down and shook it. Not a drop fell. I’m not even sure there was milk in that thing. Or liquid of any kind. And they gave me a straw with it. A STRAW. Were they taunting me? Was that some kind of a cruel joke? I had to use the straw as a spoon. It took me two days to eat that thing.
Today, I got a milkshake from Jack in the Box. Shut up. I already know I’m fat. The girls at the window handed me a straw and asked if I needed a spoon. I declined.
“Have you ever had one before?” she asked. As if she couldn’t tell I’d been eating a lot of milkshakes! I said I had and she gave me this pitiful look as I drove away. Probably because she knew I was about to suck my brain into my stomach.
I don’t understand why milkshakes have become so menacing. I swear, I think you burn all the calories you’re eating by the time you work that hard to get it down. It’s a good thing I’m about to get skinny. Exercising is one thing, but drinking a milkshake is just too much work.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Monday, August 31, 2009
A coma would be a welcome relief.
I know. In my last post I said I was going to start blogging regularly again. That was five weeks ago. The truth is- life with a new baby is harder than I thought it would be. I was full of aspirations of all the things I would accomplish once I was a stay-at-home mom. How much time could a newborn consume really? Sleep. Eat. Sleep. Eat. Finally, I was going to have time to do all of the things I couldn’t when I was working full-time. Wait. Let’s stop there. When I was working full-time. Like that was going to change once Drew was born. My job before now seems like an eight-year vacation.
There have been times when I thought I was tired. I thought I was tired during pregnancy. I’d fall asleep at my desk during the day and crash on the couch once I got home. THAT wasn’t tired. That was Tired giving me a little bear hug. Then Drew arrived and Tired bitch-slapped me in the face. Normally I would fight back, but I’ve spent the last two and half months crying in the corner from the red welt on my cheek.
Up until last week, Drew was waking every two hours during the night to be fed. It would take approximately 30 minutes to feed, burp, and change him before putting him back to sleep. I have never claimed to be a math genius, but let me do that equation for you. That leaves an hour and a half of sleep between feedings. Tired stood beside my bed like an abusive pimp. Now, the boy is sleeping in four-hour segments. That may not seem like much- especially when I keep reading on message boards about other babies his age who are sleeping 10 hours at a time- but when you’re so tired you wake up in bed looking for the baby you think you have in your arms and you can’t remember what you did with him, sleeping four hours feels like a mild coma.
All that to say- I am starting to adjust to doing life with a baby. He’s going to bed earlier and I’m finding myself with at least 2-3 hours of non-baby time each night. Granted, I spend most of it doing laundry, dishes, ironing, or scrubbing the bathroom floor, but I’m trying to discipline and balance my time so I can share all of my random babble and much a do about nothing with you, internet.
My goal this week is to post at least two entries in addition to this little update. We’re heading out to MN on Thursday, so that will be an accomplishment in a short week- unless I postdate some entries. But let’s not get crazy. One day at a time. Now, I have to run and jump in bed and savor the hour I have left before the boy should wake.
There have been times when I thought I was tired. I thought I was tired during pregnancy. I’d fall asleep at my desk during the day and crash on the couch once I got home. THAT wasn’t tired. That was Tired giving me a little bear hug. Then Drew arrived and Tired bitch-slapped me in the face. Normally I would fight back, but I’ve spent the last two and half months crying in the corner from the red welt on my cheek.
Up until last week, Drew was waking every two hours during the night to be fed. It would take approximately 30 minutes to feed, burp, and change him before putting him back to sleep. I have never claimed to be a math genius, but let me do that equation for you. That leaves an hour and a half of sleep between feedings. Tired stood beside my bed like an abusive pimp. Now, the boy is sleeping in four-hour segments. That may not seem like much- especially when I keep reading on message boards about other babies his age who are sleeping 10 hours at a time- but when you’re so tired you wake up in bed looking for the baby you think you have in your arms and you can’t remember what you did with him, sleeping four hours feels like a mild coma.
All that to say- I am starting to adjust to doing life with a baby. He’s going to bed earlier and I’m finding myself with at least 2-3 hours of non-baby time each night. Granted, I spend most of it doing laundry, dishes, ironing, or scrubbing the bathroom floor, but I’m trying to discipline and balance my time so I can share all of my random babble and much a do about nothing with you, internet.
My goal this week is to post at least two entries in addition to this little update. We’re heading out to MN on Thursday, so that will be an accomplishment in a short week- unless I postdate some entries. But let’s not get crazy. One day at a time. Now, I have to run and jump in bed and savor the hour I have left before the boy should wake.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
It's called LABOR for a reason.
I said it more than once during my pregnancy- I was going to “get it” during labor and delivery. And by “it” I meant whatever was difficult, challenging, and would even out the fact that I had such and easy pregnancy. I suppose there are those women who are lucky enough to have an easy pregnancy AND an easy delivery, but I kept my expectations in check. In pregnancy: no morning sickness- check; no indigestion- check; no constipation- check; no weird cravings like wanting to eat laundry detergent- check; and no other common pregnancy side-effects- check. I did get fat, but that’s what happens when you make snack cakes and ice cream two of your major food groups. Maybe I was comfort eating. The fears of having a difficult labor could only be calmed by the crème-filled, chocolate goodness of Ding Dongs. Apparently, I had a LOT of fears!
In typical Stadler fashion, the baby was late and after a week my doctor suggested we induce labor. At 41 weeks pregnant, fat, hot, and waddling, I agreed.
I had three hours of pitocin before they turned if off to let me sleep through the night. My “through the night” usually involves waking up around 9am, but apparently that’s hotel not hospital time. Their good night’s sleep ended at 5am when they cranked up the medication.
Around 11am, I succumbed to that bit of pain where your body is preparing to evict the person living inside there- whom you hope hasn’t gotten as fat as you have- and I asked for an epidural. “Are your legs feeling warm and tingly?” the nurse asked me for the next twenty minutes. “I’m sorry, I’m in LABOR! Did you just use the words ‘warm and tingly’? Because I forgot I even have legs due to the sledge hammer pounding my lower back.” Um yeah… that epidural didn’t work. Twenty minutes later I had a new epidural and a new attitude about labor. Not even a case of Ding Dongs could have made me that happy.
By 1pm I was nearly passing out in 10-second intervals as I held my breath to push. I’m not entirely positive because I’ve had some not-so-good hair days, but I’m pretty sure that was one of my least attractive moments in life. Thank God pain has the power to trump vanity.
An hour passed with little progress because not only had the baby not dropped, he was turned wrong. And just when I thought this was the “it” I was getting in labor, a tornado warning was issued for Davidson County. I’m not even kidding. Do you know what happens in a hospital when there’s a tornado warning? Patients have to move out into the hallway. That’s right. Oh, don’t mind me, I’m just in the middle of trying to PUSH A PERSON OUT MY ORRIFICE! The only positive thing I can say about the experience is that they decided to let me rest instead of push on public display. The whole rest period lasted about 30 minutes until, of course, the epidural started to wear off… ‘cause that’s what happens when you have to wait on a tornado. After a re-dose and another ten minutes or so, we got the “all clear” to return to the room and spend another 30 minutes of wasted effort, during which the doctor tried to manually turn the baby… with her HAND… on his HEAD! If there was any doubt before, I was positive this was the “IT” I was due. The amount of pain in this process was enough that I would have rather delivered a 14 lb baby, in a tornado, in front of everyone in the hospital, without an epidural. THAT would have been a treat in comparison.
The baby never dropped or turned, so I opted for a caesarian… just to top off the whole labor experience. I mean, what non-working epidural, ineffective pushing, tornado warning, baby-turning labor would be complete without a little surgery?
In the end, I got more than my share of “it” in labor and delivery. And it was totally worth it.
Andrew Jonathan Stadler
“Drew”
born Tuesday, June 16, 2009
7lbs 14oz
20 ¾ inches long
In typical Stadler fashion, the baby was late and after a week my doctor suggested we induce labor. At 41 weeks pregnant, fat, hot, and waddling, I agreed.
I had three hours of pitocin before they turned if off to let me sleep through the night. My “through the night” usually involves waking up around 9am, but apparently that’s hotel not hospital time. Their good night’s sleep ended at 5am when they cranked up the medication.
Around 11am, I succumbed to that bit of pain where your body is preparing to evict the person living inside there- whom you hope hasn’t gotten as fat as you have- and I asked for an epidural. “Are your legs feeling warm and tingly?” the nurse asked me for the next twenty minutes. “I’m sorry, I’m in LABOR! Did you just use the words ‘warm and tingly’? Because I forgot I even have legs due to the sledge hammer pounding my lower back.” Um yeah… that epidural didn’t work. Twenty minutes later I had a new epidural and a new attitude about labor. Not even a case of Ding Dongs could have made me that happy.
By 1pm I was nearly passing out in 10-second intervals as I held my breath to push. I’m not entirely positive because I’ve had some not-so-good hair days, but I’m pretty sure that was one of my least attractive moments in life. Thank God pain has the power to trump vanity.
An hour passed with little progress because not only had the baby not dropped, he was turned wrong. And just when I thought this was the “it” I was getting in labor, a tornado warning was issued for Davidson County. I’m not even kidding. Do you know what happens in a hospital when there’s a tornado warning? Patients have to move out into the hallway. That’s right. Oh, don’t mind me, I’m just in the middle of trying to PUSH A PERSON OUT MY ORRIFICE! The only positive thing I can say about the experience is that they decided to let me rest instead of push on public display. The whole rest period lasted about 30 minutes until, of course, the epidural started to wear off… ‘cause that’s what happens when you have to wait on a tornado. After a re-dose and another ten minutes or so, we got the “all clear” to return to the room and spend another 30 minutes of wasted effort, during which the doctor tried to manually turn the baby… with her HAND… on his HEAD! If there was any doubt before, I was positive this was the “IT” I was due. The amount of pain in this process was enough that I would have rather delivered a 14 lb baby, in a tornado, in front of everyone in the hospital, without an epidural. THAT would have been a treat in comparison.
The baby never dropped or turned, so I opted for a caesarian… just to top off the whole labor experience. I mean, what non-working epidural, ineffective pushing, tornado warning, baby-turning labor would be complete without a little surgery?
In the end, I got more than my share of “it” in labor and delivery. And it was totally worth it.
Andrew Jonathan Stadler
“Drew”
born Tuesday, June 16, 2009
7lbs 14oz
20 ¾ inches long
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Blog Update
Due to the birth of our son and adjusting to life as a new mom, I have neglected my blog for the past month. My computer is currently not working (I'm borrowing Jon's when I can), but I hope to return to regular blog posts beginning next week. Please come back for the eventful story of our son's birth!!
Saturday, June 6, 2009
My Husband- the TV Junkie
A conversation with Jon as we were discussing our pre-labor "to do" lists:
Me: You know you need to pack a bag for the hospital too.
Jon: I do?
Me: Yeah. You'll need a change of clothes and stuff. Although we'll only be 10 minutes from the house, so you could run home if you want to... but you probably won't want to leave...
Jon: Yeah, you're probably right.
Me: ... 'cause they have cable.
Jon: I'll put packing a bag on my "to do" list.
That's what I thought.
Me: You know you need to pack a bag for the hospital too.
Jon: I do?
Me: Yeah. You'll need a change of clothes and stuff. Although we'll only be 10 minutes from the house, so you could run home if you want to... but you probably won't want to leave...
Jon: Yeah, you're probably right.
Me: ... 'cause they have cable.
Jon: I'll put packing a bag on my "to do" list.
That's what I thought.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Packing Heat... sort of
Meet the "Grizzly".Before you start thinking I’ve joined the NRA and installed a gun rack in the back window of my Mazda, it’s just a BB/pellet gun. But then again, it’s so much more than that. It’s the arsenal for my war with the stray dogs.
How heartless I must seem to all you dog lovers out there. Maybe I am, but I would argue it’s no different than spanking your children. There’s a momentary sting of unpleasantness, but the lessons of obedience and discipline are needed. Unless you’re someone who doesn’t believe in spanking your children- in which case you can call me heartless and I’ll call you wrong. Then we can move on with our lives.
The Grizzly is my last alternative to the stray dog problem. I’m hoping the dogs will soon make an association. They come into our yard. I bust a cap in their butts. It stings. They run. And hopefully it doesn’t take long for them to make the connection.
I borrowed the gun from my nephew. He tried to loan me a more powerful one that weighed about ten pounds. If I had stray moose in my yard it may have been an option, but I opted for the lightweight, less powerful one. I’m not completely heartless.
Now, I just need some ammo. A trip to Target and I’ll be armed for battle. Yes, I’ll be the VERY pregnant woman sitting on the back deck, with my feet propped up, drinking iced tea with a camo gun slung over my shoulder. You can take the girl out of Mississippi, but you can’t take the Mississippi out of the girl.
Friday, May 22, 2009
My Canine Gang War
What do you get when you live in the hood?
- A neighbor who knocks your peach tree down with a riding mower, hauls it off and never says anything about it? Yep.
- Your car ransacked in the middle of the night and several items stolen? Jon’s was.
- Low-rider drive-by with the bass thumping so loudly the whole house shakes? Oh, yeah.
- Frequent police visits to the house across the street? Of course.
And apparently, you also get packs of stray dogs that hang out in your backyard. It’s a dog gang really. There is clearly a leader who comes to bark at our neighbor’s dog that stays fenced in his yard. The other gang dogs just sit, lie, poop, bark, and hang out in our yard. It’s a nuisance that has driven me to anger many a morning at 1:00am.
This time of year, I like to sleep with the windows open. Not only do I enjoy the night air, but we can keep the house cool without running the AC. Until that incessant barking! I always try to sleep through it, but end up jumping out of bed, mumbling expletives under my breath and slamming the window shut.
Recently, I’ve noticed the dogs making themselves at home underneath our deck. Great. Next thing you know, they’ll be having gang initiations in our backyard. Not to mention one of them is VERY pregnant and this has to be stopped before a litter of puppies is delivered on our property.
Solutions?
1. Animal Control: Been there, done that. I called. They drove by. The dogs weren’t there and they moved on. Just another failure to capitalize on my tax dollars.
2.Yelling “GIT”? That’s my Mississippi coming out. I’ve yelled at them several times. They slowly walk away, mumbling death threats under their breaths and probably plotting what they’ll pee on next.
3. Throwing rocks. Oh, I’ve done that too (not at the pregnant dog). Only at nine months pregnant, my ability to twist and throw isn’t what it used to be. They are usually out of range before I can get down the deck steps, bend down and pick up rocks, catch my breath, then throw. It’s a futile attempt, really. And again, it’s probably just enough to piss them off. It won’t be long before I come out to find gang paw graffiti all over the garage doors.
So, I’m in a gang war with a pack of stray dogs. If I’m going to beat the “hood,” I’ll have to think “hood.” I’ll keep you posted.
- A neighbor who knocks your peach tree down with a riding mower, hauls it off and never says anything about it? Yep.
- Your car ransacked in the middle of the night and several items stolen? Jon’s was.
- Low-rider drive-by with the bass thumping so loudly the whole house shakes? Oh, yeah.
- Frequent police visits to the house across the street? Of course.
And apparently, you also get packs of stray dogs that hang out in your backyard. It’s a dog gang really. There is clearly a leader who comes to bark at our neighbor’s dog that stays fenced in his yard. The other gang dogs just sit, lie, poop, bark, and hang out in our yard. It’s a nuisance that has driven me to anger many a morning at 1:00am.
This time of year, I like to sleep with the windows open. Not only do I enjoy the night air, but we can keep the house cool without running the AC. Until that incessant barking! I always try to sleep through it, but end up jumping out of bed, mumbling expletives under my breath and slamming the window shut.
Recently, I’ve noticed the dogs making themselves at home underneath our deck. Great. Next thing you know, they’ll be having gang initiations in our backyard. Not to mention one of them is VERY pregnant and this has to be stopped before a litter of puppies is delivered on our property.
Solutions?
1. Animal Control: Been there, done that. I called. They drove by. The dogs weren’t there and they moved on. Just another failure to capitalize on my tax dollars.
2.Yelling “GIT”? That’s my Mississippi coming out. I’ve yelled at them several times. They slowly walk away, mumbling death threats under their breaths and probably plotting what they’ll pee on next.
3. Throwing rocks. Oh, I’ve done that too (not at the pregnant dog). Only at nine months pregnant, my ability to twist and throw isn’t what it used to be. They are usually out of range before I can get down the deck steps, bend down and pick up rocks, catch my breath, then throw. It’s a futile attempt, really. And again, it’s probably just enough to piss them off. It won’t be long before I come out to find gang paw graffiti all over the garage doors.
So, I’m in a gang war with a pack of stray dogs. If I’m going to beat the “hood,” I’ll have to think “hood.” I’ll keep you posted.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Making Room for the Boy
I have several blog posts to catch up on and those thoughts, stories, etc. are coming soon. But, everyone keeps asking about the nursery. If you knew what this room looked like before then you know what a process it has been. Thank you Allison, Kristi, and Jon for helping me get it cleaned out and ready for its new purpose. We kept it simple… not too babyish, so it doesn’t have to be updated as he grows.
I should have gotten a closer shot of the quilt on the back of the rocker because it's so fun and creative and beautiful. Just like my sweet friend who made it! The moon on the wall above the rocker is one of my favorite finds. It’s battery operated with a remote control and it emits just enough light to give the room a soft glow at night. It will automatically cycle through the moon phases or you can change them manually to adjust the amount of light. After 30 minutes of inactivity, it shuts off. A great night light for $13- thanks Amazon! I made the rocket out of foam board and we’ll eventually throw up a few stars around it to take up some of the bare wall.
I should have gotten a closer shot of the quilt on the back of the rocker because it's so fun and creative and beautiful. Just like my sweet friend who made it! The moon on the wall above the rocker is one of my favorite finds. It’s battery operated with a remote control and it emits just enough light to give the room a soft glow at night. It will automatically cycle through the moon phases or you can change them manually to adjust the amount of light. After 30 minutes of inactivity, it shuts off. A great night light for $13- thanks Amazon! I made the rocket out of foam board and we’ll eventually throw up a few stars around it to take up some of the bare wall.
This is his changing station / bookshelf / toy storage / etc. I love multi-purpose furniture... and IKEA! The art is a canvas painting of the solar system with robot astronauts and aliens. Educational AND fun. I know… there’s a moon and rocket on one wall and the solar system on the other- and I said there wasn’t a theme. It just worked out that way.
This is one of my favorite things about the room. We still have a few to add, but he’ll be able to see the faces of his family members who live far away. Of course, we’ll have to update the photos periodically… along with moving them higher up on the wall when he’s able to stand and grab them. I don’t think it’s a good idea to have 8X10 wooden frames where they can be pulled down on his little head.
And thanks to Kristi again for the “Welcome Baby” banner she made for our baby shower. I found a place to display it. It will be a while before his new eyes can focus that far… or before he can read, but I love it.
We're looking forward to welcoming Baby Stadler into our lives, his family, and his room in our home.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
The cookie question: to dunk or drown?
When I made that recent trip to Publix for Chips Ahoy, I apparently fascinated my co-worker with the way I eat cookies and milk. I never realized my way was so “bizarre”.
It’s a natural process for me. I just take some cookies and pile them in the bottom of a mug. Then I pour milk over the top of them, break them up, and eat them with a spoon.
I realize that some people like to dunk their cookies, but I don’t. Yes, the cookies eventually get soggy. Once the chunks are gone, I just simply drink the milk, which is then sweetened with cookie crumbs and chocolate chips. It’s not gross- stop thinking that. Most people drink the milk after they eat all the cereal. How is that different?
From the way my co-worker kept watching me in astonishment, you would have thought I was riding a unicycle with a monkey on my back while eating cookies through a straw and juggling three pints of milk. Which begs me to question: how do you eat cookies and milk? Are you a dunker, a drowner, or do you have another way? I can’t be the only cookie drowner out there!
It’s a natural process for me. I just take some cookies and pile them in the bottom of a mug. Then I pour milk over the top of them, break them up, and eat them with a spoon.
I realize that some people like to dunk their cookies, but I don’t. Yes, the cookies eventually get soggy. Once the chunks are gone, I just simply drink the milk, which is then sweetened with cookie crumbs and chocolate chips. It’s not gross- stop thinking that. Most people drink the milk after they eat all the cereal. How is that different?
From the way my co-worker kept watching me in astonishment, you would have thought I was riding a unicycle with a monkey on my back while eating cookies through a straw and juggling three pints of milk. Which begs me to question: how do you eat cookies and milk? Are you a dunker, a drowner, or do you have another way? I can’t be the only cookie drowner out there!
Friday, May 1, 2009
Incubating Crazy
Pregnancy does a lot of weird things to your body and emotions. While I haven’t wanted to throw things at Jon’s head during the past eight months, I have been a lot more emotional. I started calling these crying bouts “episodes.” Jon and I will be sitting on the couch watching TV and I will have to get up and go to the bathroom for tissue. No reason. I’ll just feel like crying suddenly. And, he has been so sweet and understanding of my sudden onset of insanity. But, in all honesty- men have to at least feel a little panic when women start to cry… especially when it isn’t related to anything because there’s nothing they can fix. Sometimes I’ll try and leave the room so he doesn’t know and doesn’t have to deal with the absurdity of it all. But sometimes he just puts his arm around me and lets me cry on his shoulder until I pull myself together.
Hormones are unpredictable and some days/weeks they are more overwhelming than others. I may have one really emotional week, then be totally sane again for the next two weeks. The uncertainty of it all has made Jon paranoid. Now whenever something sad happens on TV, or when there’s even the slightest possibility I could find something emotional, he will look at me and ask, “Are you going to cry?” Being crazy can’t be nearly as challenging as living with crazy.
I wish I could blame hormones on the overwhelming sense of urgency I feel about everything these days. Someone mentions Chips Ahoy and I’m in Publix twenty minutes later grabbing a bag and a pint of milk. I wake up in the middle of the night thinking about how I need to rake and mulch the flower beds around the house. I mean, I can barely get up from a full squat, much less clean out and mulch the flower beds. I had a dream the baby arrived several weeks early and nothing was ready. No crib. No diapers. Nothing. So, in my dream I did what every normal person would do… I tried to put the baby back. No, not in the same sense it comes into this world. I tried holding it really close to my stomach as though it would just morph back through the skin and go back into my uterus. I’ll take episodes of crying over this kind of crazy any day. I also dreamed our baby was born with a mustache, but I’m trying to forget about that one.
Hormones are unpredictable and some days/weeks they are more overwhelming than others. I may have one really emotional week, then be totally sane again for the next two weeks. The uncertainty of it all has made Jon paranoid. Now whenever something sad happens on TV, or when there’s even the slightest possibility I could find something emotional, he will look at me and ask, “Are you going to cry?” Being crazy can’t be nearly as challenging as living with crazy.
I wish I could blame hormones on the overwhelming sense of urgency I feel about everything these days. Someone mentions Chips Ahoy and I’m in Publix twenty minutes later grabbing a bag and a pint of milk. I wake up in the middle of the night thinking about how I need to rake and mulch the flower beds around the house. I mean, I can barely get up from a full squat, much less clean out and mulch the flower beds. I had a dream the baby arrived several weeks early and nothing was ready. No crib. No diapers. Nothing. So, in my dream I did what every normal person would do… I tried to put the baby back. No, not in the same sense it comes into this world. I tried holding it really close to my stomach as though it would just morph back through the skin and go back into my uterus. I’ll take episodes of crying over this kind of crazy any day. I also dreamed our baby was born with a mustache, but I’m trying to forget about that one.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Confessions of a Bed-Wetter
I know what you’re thinking. She’s pregnant and she’s now wetting the bed. Um… NO. And, if that were the case, trust me- I wouldn’t be posting it on the internet. That would definitely fall under the TMI category. You’re welcome. Just so we’re clear- I’m not currently peeing in the bed.
Now….
Jon and I were discussing the baby having hiccups in utero.
Me: My daddy used to scare me by yelling at me for something I didn’t do. That was his way of getting rid of my hiccups. Of course, he also used to spank me for wetting the bed.
Jon: You were a bed-wetter?
Me: Yeah, until I was six. I think it had something to do with having to share a bed with my two sisters.
Jon: So, that was your way of marking your territory?
Me: I guess so. We moved and I stopped wetting the bed.
Jon: You were a bed-wetter… wow, I’m learning all kinds of deep, dark secrets about you.
Me: I wouldn’t really call it a deep, dark secret. It’s just not something that comes up in conversation.
Jon (re-enacting an early date conversation): So, what kinds of things do you like do? Well, I wet the bed when I was a kid.
Me: Exactly.
Now….
Jon and I were discussing the baby having hiccups in utero.
Me: My daddy used to scare me by yelling at me for something I didn’t do. That was his way of getting rid of my hiccups. Of course, he also used to spank me for wetting the bed.
Jon: You were a bed-wetter?
Me: Yeah, until I was six. I think it had something to do with having to share a bed with my two sisters.
Jon: So, that was your way of marking your territory?
Me: I guess so. We moved and I stopped wetting the bed.
Jon: You were a bed-wetter… wow, I’m learning all kinds of deep, dark secrets about you.
Me: I wouldn’t really call it a deep, dark secret. It’s just not something that comes up in conversation.
Jon (re-enacting an early date conversation): So, what kinds of things do you like do? Well, I wet the bed when I was a kid.
Me: Exactly.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Egging My Own House
Something has happened to me during the last several months of pregnancy. I’ve gotten lazier. The piles of laundry are higher, the layers of dust thicker, and there are more piles of clutter in my house. My once task-oriented, productive personality has been replaced with someone who would rather lie on the couch, eat ice cream and watch TV. I still make the bed every morning (I haven’t gone THAT crazy), but my “neat freak” tendencies have been put on the back burner. Don’t get me wrong, it still makes me twitchy to see the light from the TV reflect off the table dust and my skin still crawls in the midst of a room full of clutter. It’s just that finding the energy to do anything about it is nearly impossible.
Honestly, I don’t tolerate lazy very well, in myself or in others. So, I’m starting to feel judgmental about my own. I know I’m eight months pregnant, but some women are still playing tennis and snow skiing at this point. A little housework doesn’t seem like too lofty a goal.
Yesterday, I decided to motivate myself back into a productive lifestyle… right after a short nap when I got home from work. I allowed myself 30-40 minutes to rest when I got home, then I got busy. One of the obstacles I’ve felt is being too overwhelmed with the amount of stuff there is to constantly do at home. I feel like it takes hours of my time to make any headway. So, I tried a new strategy. I threw some laundry in the washer, grabbed the egg timer from the kitchen, went to the bedroom and set it for 15 minutes. In that time, I made the bed (from my nap), picked up all the clutter, dusted the furniture, and vacuumed the floor and baseboards. The ticking of the egg timer kept me on task so I wouldn’t get side tracked (deciding it would be a good time to flip through that magazine beside the bed). In 15 minutes, the bedroom was clean!
Next, I tackled the bathroom. Let’s face it- if you’re going to spend extra time cleaning anywhere, it should be the bathroom. So, I gave myself 20 minutes there- that included cleaning the shower/tub. It was then time to cook dinner, so I moved to the kitchen. Since the laundry had finished in the washer, I loaded and started the dishwasher. Then, I started dinner. As dinner cooked, I cleaned the kitchen and accomplished both tasks at once. I decided that was enough productivity for one day, so we ate dinner off of paper plates (something we may be doing more often). Even though I didn’t clean the entire house, it felt good to have some rooms cleaned and I can do the others in the next couple of days. I’ll be using the egg timer again as a motivator. If you have some cleaning strategies that work for you, I’d love to know what they are. Who knows, I may find my inner “neat freak” again!
Honestly, I don’t tolerate lazy very well, in myself or in others. So, I’m starting to feel judgmental about my own. I know I’m eight months pregnant, but some women are still playing tennis and snow skiing at this point. A little housework doesn’t seem like too lofty a goal.
Yesterday, I decided to motivate myself back into a productive lifestyle… right after a short nap when I got home from work. I allowed myself 30-40 minutes to rest when I got home, then I got busy. One of the obstacles I’ve felt is being too overwhelmed with the amount of stuff there is to constantly do at home. I feel like it takes hours of my time to make any headway. So, I tried a new strategy. I threw some laundry in the washer, grabbed the egg timer from the kitchen, went to the bedroom and set it for 15 minutes. In that time, I made the bed (from my nap), picked up all the clutter, dusted the furniture, and vacuumed the floor and baseboards. The ticking of the egg timer kept me on task so I wouldn’t get side tracked (deciding it would be a good time to flip through that magazine beside the bed). In 15 minutes, the bedroom was clean!
Next, I tackled the bathroom. Let’s face it- if you’re going to spend extra time cleaning anywhere, it should be the bathroom. So, I gave myself 20 minutes there- that included cleaning the shower/tub. It was then time to cook dinner, so I moved to the kitchen. Since the laundry had finished in the washer, I loaded and started the dishwasher. Then, I started dinner. As dinner cooked, I cleaned the kitchen and accomplished both tasks at once. I decided that was enough productivity for one day, so we ate dinner off of paper plates (something we may be doing more often). Even though I didn’t clean the entire house, it felt good to have some rooms cleaned and I can do the others in the next couple of days. I’ll be using the egg timer again as a motivator. If you have some cleaning strategies that work for you, I’d love to know what they are. Who knows, I may find my inner “neat freak” again!
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Putting the Foot Down on Weird!
One of my co-workers e-mailed this to the staff. It’s so weird that I had to share it with all of you. I didn’t believe it at first and had to actually watch my foot to make sure it was happening. Have fun.
This will boggle your mind and it will keep you trying over and over again to see if you can outsmart your foot, but you can't. It's programmed in your brain!
1. Without anyone watching you (or with someone watching you if you don’t mind looking crazy) and while sitting at your desk in front of your computer, lift your right foot off the floor and move it clockwise in circles.
2. Now, while doing this, draw the number '6' in the air with your right hand. Your foot will change direction.
I keep thinking I can outsmart my foot, but even pregnancy brain is no excuse on this one.
This will boggle your mind and it will keep you trying over and over again to see if you can outsmart your foot, but you can't. It's programmed in your brain!
1. Without anyone watching you (or with someone watching you if you don’t mind looking crazy) and while sitting at your desk in front of your computer, lift your right foot off the floor and move it clockwise in circles.
2. Now, while doing this, draw the number '6' in the air with your right hand. Your foot will change direction.
I keep thinking I can outsmart my foot, but even pregnancy brain is no excuse on this one.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Two Funny Bunnies
There are many reasons this week is special- the least meaningful of which is that I get to pull out my favorite Easter-related cartoons.
This is my favorite.
And what's not funny about this?
For the record- my Holy Week/Easter reflections and celebrations aren't all this shallow. But, I'm also not above laughing at an Egg Ho cartoon. Happy Easter.
This is my favorite.
And what's not funny about this?
For the record- my Holy Week/Easter reflections and celebrations aren't all this shallow. But, I'm also not above laughing at an Egg Ho cartoon. Happy Easter.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Is 37 the new 90?
Today is my 37th birthday. I could feel discouraged with the thought of drawing another year closer to 40, but I haven’t. I still feel young, am healthy, and I’m pregnant for the first time and have felt great throughout the pregnancy. Jon and I recently went through physicals for a new life insurance policy and I received “preferred” status, which gave me a significantly lower premium. So, I’ve been feeling pretty good about myself.
Until this came in the mail yesterday…
Now seriously. I know that I’m moving around a little slower these days, but that’s what being 7 months pregnant and carrying around an extra 30 pounds of weight will do to you. I CAN still GET around. I initially thought the flyer was some kind of mailing resulting from our life insurance policy, but then I noticed it was addressed to my maiden name. Someone said, “at least it’s not from AARP.” Is that a good thing? AARP would just imply I was old- this implies I’m old AND immobile.
Here are some quotes from the flyer: (these are some gems)
“Make breakfast in the kitchen, go outside and get the newspaper… it’s always a good morning once you call The SCOOTER Store.”
“Visit the neighbors, play with your grandchildren, work in the garden… go to church without feeling like a bother to friends or family.”
“Go out to dinner, attend evening events, be part of life’s celebrations… at The SCOOTER Store we can make it happen!”
Happy Birthday to me.
Until this came in the mail yesterday…
Now seriously. I know that I’m moving around a little slower these days, but that’s what being 7 months pregnant and carrying around an extra 30 pounds of weight will do to you. I CAN still GET around. I initially thought the flyer was some kind of mailing resulting from our life insurance policy, but then I noticed it was addressed to my maiden name. Someone said, “at least it’s not from AARP.” Is that a good thing? AARP would just imply I was old- this implies I’m old AND immobile.
Here are some quotes from the flyer: (these are some gems)
“Make breakfast in the kitchen, go outside and get the newspaper… it’s always a good morning once you call The SCOOTER Store.”
“Visit the neighbors, play with your grandchildren, work in the garden… go to church without feeling like a bother to friends or family.”
“Go out to dinner, attend evening events, be part of life’s celebrations… at The SCOOTER Store we can make it happen!”
Happy Birthday to me.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Painting Where the Sun Don't Shine
Over the past few weeks as we’ve discussed the nursery, I’ve informed Jon that I would paint the walls. I told him that I’ve done a lot of painting and I don’t have to cover the floors or tape off the trim. So, whenever he’s talked to his family about the nursery, he mentions that I’m doing the painting because I keep bragging about what an expert I am and how he’d probably screw it up (according to my standards). And what’s the argument there?
This afternoon he came home from work and I was painting around the top of the wall and around the windows.
“Wow, you are the shit when it comes to painting!”
“Shut up before I come down and kick your butt.”
“I’m just saying, you don’t have to tape or anything. You’re a bad Mo Fo!”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, but you keep making fun of me.”
“Oh, I’m making fun of you now.”
And right then is when I shoved the paintbrush straight up his butt. And no, I didn’t have to tape it off or anything. I guess he was right.
This afternoon he came home from work and I was painting around the top of the wall and around the windows.
“Wow, you are the shit when it comes to painting!”
“Shut up before I come down and kick your butt.”
“I’m just saying, you don’t have to tape or anything. You’re a bad Mo Fo!”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, but you keep making fun of me.”
“Oh, I’m making fun of you now.”
And right then is when I shoved the paintbrush straight up his butt. And no, I didn’t have to tape it off or anything. I guess he was right.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Public Service Announcement
A small bit of advice for the viewing public:
When you pre-heat the oven for dinner, make sure you remove the leftover cupcakes you stashed in the oven because you were in a hurry. The good news is, if you forget, the smell will remind you.
When you pre-heat the oven for dinner, make sure you remove the leftover cupcakes you stashed in the oven because you were in a hurry. The good news is, if you forget, the smell will remind you.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Citizen Award - The Hit and Run Driver
This week’s Outstanding Citizen Award goes to the anonymous driver who side swiped my husband’s car while he was at work yesterday. I use “anonymous” not to protect your identity, but because it’s a mystery. Your humility must have compelled you to keep your identity unknown, lest you receive too much praise and recognition for such an exemplary display of character. Thank you for the integrity you showed by not stopping once you hit his car, dented the side, and left the mark of your behavior along the length of the vehicle. It takes courage to step up and accept the consequences of our behavior- and for that, I award you this honor.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Kind of like a cakewalk... only with stomping.
This week marks the end of my second trimester of pregnancy. Before I move into the third and final trimester- the one where exhaustion returns, leg cramps, backaches, and all number of discomforts begin… oh yeah, and the one where my body expands like a tick in a blood bank… before that one begins, I thought I’d give a pregnancy report before the full effect of pregnancy begins.
Every time a woman asks me about the pregnancy, I find myself censoring my response to some degree- especially if that woman has her own children. Why? Because most pregnancies aren’t easy. Most involve weeks of hunching over the commode. As if morning sickness wouldn’t be enough, imagine what it would be like to shove your face in a toilet every day. Some women spend weeks, if not months of their pregnancies this way. So, when a woman asks me how I’ve been feeling, I usually respond with “good” and leave it at that. I’m sure they don’t want to hear that besides those two weeks in early pregnancy where my stomach was a little uneasy (no toilet lunging), that I’ve actually felt great. I want to be careful not to rub that in with anyone lest they curse me with wishes of a lengthy and painful labor and delivery. Although I don’t know any women with black cauldrons in their basement, I do know women who pray. And it probably wouldn’t be some payback prayer either. They’d probably word it in such a sweet and sincere way as to request that God would “bless” me with the full pregnancy experience so that I will be even more grateful and appreciative when it’s all over. Trust me, I’m thankful.
I do take a daily beating from this baby boy. All day long. I seriously wonder if he ever sleeps. If he does, he must sleep walk already. Most women start feeling their babies move around 18-20 weeks. He started around week 14. As I sit here typing, he’s thumping and kicking away. And no, he won’t be tired after 30 minutes of this. Because in 15 minutes when I go to bed, he’ll kick into high gear. Why should I sleep if he’s awake, right? So, I’ll lie in bed for a good 30-40 minutes until my stomach stops gyrating and contorting before I’m able to fall asleep. Then, after each of my 3-4 bathroom trips in the middle of the night, he’ll start again each time I return to bed. Everyone keeps telling me to get plenty of rest now because there won’t be much sleep in the several weeks after he’s born. These people apparently haven’t tried to rest while someone is thumping and kicking their insides.
I’ve tried to read some tips on sleeping better. One is to get on the floor on all fours and to curl my back up like a cat several times. This is suppose to help the circulation in my legs, relax the baby in utero, and help with lower back pain. It was recommended that I do like 30-40 of these in a row. I tried, but quickly feared rug burn on my face after six months of not lifting weights or exercising my arms, coupled with the 30 extra pounds of weight I’m holding up. I think I did 10. Drinking a glass of milk was also recommended, so I had a bowl of ice cream after I hauled myself off the floor. We’ll see how tonight goes.
Every time a woman asks me about the pregnancy, I find myself censoring my response to some degree- especially if that woman has her own children. Why? Because most pregnancies aren’t easy. Most involve weeks of hunching over the commode. As if morning sickness wouldn’t be enough, imagine what it would be like to shove your face in a toilet every day. Some women spend weeks, if not months of their pregnancies this way. So, when a woman asks me how I’ve been feeling, I usually respond with “good” and leave it at that. I’m sure they don’t want to hear that besides those two weeks in early pregnancy where my stomach was a little uneasy (no toilet lunging), that I’ve actually felt great. I want to be careful not to rub that in with anyone lest they curse me with wishes of a lengthy and painful labor and delivery. Although I don’t know any women with black cauldrons in their basement, I do know women who pray. And it probably wouldn’t be some payback prayer either. They’d probably word it in such a sweet and sincere way as to request that God would “bless” me with the full pregnancy experience so that I will be even more grateful and appreciative when it’s all over. Trust me, I’m thankful.
I do take a daily beating from this baby boy. All day long. I seriously wonder if he ever sleeps. If he does, he must sleep walk already. Most women start feeling their babies move around 18-20 weeks. He started around week 14. As I sit here typing, he’s thumping and kicking away. And no, he won’t be tired after 30 minutes of this. Because in 15 minutes when I go to bed, he’ll kick into high gear. Why should I sleep if he’s awake, right? So, I’ll lie in bed for a good 30-40 minutes until my stomach stops gyrating and contorting before I’m able to fall asleep. Then, after each of my 3-4 bathroom trips in the middle of the night, he’ll start again each time I return to bed. Everyone keeps telling me to get plenty of rest now because there won’t be much sleep in the several weeks after he’s born. These people apparently haven’t tried to rest while someone is thumping and kicking their insides.
I’ve tried to read some tips on sleeping better. One is to get on the floor on all fours and to curl my back up like a cat several times. This is suppose to help the circulation in my legs, relax the baby in utero, and help with lower back pain. It was recommended that I do like 30-40 of these in a row. I tried, but quickly feared rug burn on my face after six months of not lifting weights or exercising my arms, coupled with the 30 extra pounds of weight I’m holding up. I think I did 10. Drinking a glass of milk was also recommended, so I had a bowl of ice cream after I hauled myself off the floor. We’ll see how tonight goes.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Putting off my Procrastination
When Jon told me he was giving up fast food and carbonated beverages for Lent, I started thinking about it. Maybe I should give up something too. I thought about if for a couple of days before declaring, “I’m giving up procrastination for Lent!” What? That’s what the Man asked. How do you give up procrastination? Well, I’ll stop NOT doing stuff that I know I need to do. That long list of things that I haven’t done yet (update my blog, read those pregnancy books, sell my wedding dress, get the nursery ready, clean the basement…)- I’ll stop talking about how I need to get them done and I’ll do them, hence giving up procrastination. I mean, surely no one thought at six months pregnant that I would give up some kind of food item. Are you kidding me? By the time Easter arrived, I’d be wearing a dress and my new horns to church.
So yes, I’m giving up procrastination. The Man and I are in Atlanta this weekend. He’s downstairs in the hotel at a Psychology conference while I have the entire day to hang out in the room and finally update my blog and do some reading. I’ll get this posted, then work on some other updates on the site. Right after I finish my lunch from Wendy’s, refill my carbonated beverage and grab some SweetTarts.
So yes, I’m giving up procrastination. The Man and I are in Atlanta this weekend. He’s downstairs in the hotel at a Psychology conference while I have the entire day to hang out in the room and finally update my blog and do some reading. I’ll get this posted, then work on some other updates on the site. Right after I finish my lunch from Wendy’s, refill my carbonated beverage and grab some SweetTarts.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
A New View
A friend asked me a few weeks ago if I planned to start blogging about pregnancy, babies, and all that family stuff that no single person honestly cares to read about. “No,” I responded. “If I start blogging about all of that, I’ll do it on another venue/blog”… which I had already started creating. But as the days passed, I thought, who am I kidding? I haven’t even written on this blog in four weeks. I can’t maintain two blogs. Half the time these days I can’t remember what I’m doing from one moment to the next. I can’t tell you how many times in one day I will get up to do something, and the very next second can’t remember what I was doing. It happened today at work. I reached to get a Post It and realized it was my last one. I got up to go get a new set of Post Its from the supply room and came back with a blueberry muffin from the kitchen. Go figure.
If I had little else to do with my time, maintaining two blogs wouldn’t feel like such a challenge. But I do… and it is. So, I’m not starting a separate blog specifically for my life as a wife and mother. But, I also have no desire to be so consumed with those things that I lose all other facets of my life. And in the end, I cannot separate the different aspects of my life. All of these things influence who I am and my perspective on life. I hope that in introducing new layers and topics to A Square View, that my perspective becomes more personal and meaningful in some way- to me and to others. If you’re one of my single friends and you don’t want to read about how I sit on the couch at night and watch my stomach as my son kicks me, or how I’ll probably adore my husband more and more as I watch him become a father, then skip those entries. Don’t worry, I’ll still include the shallow, humorous rants and raves you’ve become accustomed to.
So, in the next week, A Square View will be going through a slight facelift as I make some changes, add some features, and update everything. Thanks for being patient with me in the process.
If I had little else to do with my time, maintaining two blogs wouldn’t feel like such a challenge. But I do… and it is. So, I’m not starting a separate blog specifically for my life as a wife and mother. But, I also have no desire to be so consumed with those things that I lose all other facets of my life. And in the end, I cannot separate the different aspects of my life. All of these things influence who I am and my perspective on life. I hope that in introducing new layers and topics to A Square View, that my perspective becomes more personal and meaningful in some way- to me and to others. If you’re one of my single friends and you don’t want to read about how I sit on the couch at night and watch my stomach as my son kicks me, or how I’ll probably adore my husband more and more as I watch him become a father, then skip those entries. Don’t worry, I’ll still include the shallow, humorous rants and raves you’ve become accustomed to.
So, in the next week, A Square View will be going through a slight facelift as I make some changes, add some features, and update everything. Thanks for being patient with me in the process.
Friday, January 9, 2009
It's called a dresser.
The nesting phase of pregnancy has finally arrived and I’ve been trying to get the house cleaned and organized so we can start on a nursery. That means Jon is going to have to put up with more OCD behavior than normal. I already rush to make the bed when he gets up in the morning, usually to discover that he was only going to the bathroom and was planning on crawling back in bed. I like the bed made. What can I say?
Now I’m hiding his clothes in all kinds of crazy places… like the bedroom… and dresser drawers. I noticed him walking aimlessly around the living room the other night.
Me: Are you looking for your pajama pants?
Jon: Yeah.
Me: They’re in the bedroom.
Jon: But I left them on the couch.
Exactly.
Then…
Jon: Do you know where my wool socks are?
Me: Yeah, they’re in your sock drawer.
Jon: Well, what are they doing in there- not making any sense?
Me: Do you mean, ‘why aren’t they on the couch?’
Jon: Yeah.
It must be hard living with a crazy wife.
Now I’m hiding his clothes in all kinds of crazy places… like the bedroom… and dresser drawers. I noticed him walking aimlessly around the living room the other night.
Me: Are you looking for your pajama pants?
Jon: Yeah.
Me: They’re in the bedroom.
Jon: But I left them on the couch.
Exactly.
Then…
Jon: Do you know where my wool socks are?
Me: Yeah, they’re in your sock drawer.
Jon: Well, what are they doing in there- not making any sense?
Me: Do you mean, ‘why aren’t they on the couch?’
Jon: Yeah.
It must be hard living with a crazy wife.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
2009, you have big shoes to fill.
Sure, it’s January 7. A whole week of the New Year has passed and I’m just now getting around to updating my blog. Had more regular blog posts been one of my resolutions, this would be a sad reality. It wasn’t, even though I do plan to blog more. I’ll have plenty of time since I won’t be working on all those resolutions I didn’t make. Maybe this was a year of growth for me because I finally faced the reality that resolutions usually motivate me for about three months, before I remember that I like chocolate cake a whole lot more than rice cakes. It’s like every January I get New Year Amnesia and forget that yeah, I didn’t really keep that same resolution last year. I didn't lose 20 pounds, I didn't read through the entire Bible, and I still can't speak Spanish.
I’m not without some personal reflection as the New Year begins though. I have thought about how to grow spiritually and emotionally (growing physically is taken care of with the whole pregnancy thing). I’ve thought about how to be a better wife, a better friend, how to be a good mother… and how to love my family more in general. I’ve thought about how to enjoy life more- not in a “living it up” kind of way, but in a savoring the truly important things in life kind of way. How to value what is really important. I know that over the course of this next year, some of life’s priorities will change with the birth of our first child. There’s a new kind of love coming my way that I know nothing about- a new love that will consume me more than I know.
A lot happened this past year. My husband proposed in February, we planned a wedding, we bought a house in May, got married in July, and found out we were pregnant in September. All of life’s most stressful events were compressed into a few short months and we made it without one single argument. I consider that a successful year.
I’m not without some personal reflection as the New Year begins though. I have thought about how to grow spiritually and emotionally (growing physically is taken care of with the whole pregnancy thing). I’ve thought about how to be a better wife, a better friend, how to be a good mother… and how to love my family more in general. I’ve thought about how to enjoy life more- not in a “living it up” kind of way, but in a savoring the truly important things in life kind of way. How to value what is really important. I know that over the course of this next year, some of life’s priorities will change with the birth of our first child. There’s a new kind of love coming my way that I know nothing about- a new love that will consume me more than I know.
A lot happened this past year. My husband proposed in February, we planned a wedding, we bought a house in May, got married in July, and found out we were pregnant in September. All of life’s most stressful events were compressed into a few short months and we made it without one single argument. I consider that a successful year.
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