Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Working and Crying

***Disclaimer: This post is rambling, sorry if you have trouble following along.

It's no secret that my husband likes to work. A lot. I mean, he really likes to work. He is a carpenter, and so I imagine he gets satisfaction out of building something. He starts a job, and then completes it. Usually in a pretty quick manner. But the sense of satisfaction can't be all that drives him. I often wonder why it is that some people have this insane driving force inside of them, and others (me), just, well, don't.

On one hand, I could say that Workaholic gets his addiction from his father. He is the oldest, and so he probably grew up wanting to be "just like dad". And anyone who knows my father-in-law in real life knows that he is also a Workaholic. He was not born with a silver spoon in his mouth or given any sort of advantage. Every step up the ladder (heehee) he took, he earned with blood and sweat. (I'd say tears, but I am pretty sure he doesn't cry.) And anyone who knows my father-in-law in real life also knows that he has earned everything that he has. (Of course, he also married a woman who is fabulous in managing a household and business, including the finances. That probably helped things a little.)

On the other hand, you could say that birth order played a role...since youngest children stereotypically aren't quite as...driven, as oldest children. Regardless, my Workaholic's addiction is the reason why I am sitting here waiting for him to get home at 10:45pm. I'm OK with it, because if he was here, I would not have been able to write this blog or watch the episode of Army Wives that I saw earlier. Have you ever seen that show?? It's great.

So there I am, sitting all alone in my basement, curled up under a blanket in the recliner, (yeah...we keep our house a little cool) eating a bowl of ice cream, (what??) and bawling my freaking eyes out. Stupid me chooses to watch the episode where all the main characters' husbands get deployed. For at least a year. And one of them is very pregnant with a baby girl. Sigh. I seriously think I cried for a half hour straight.

It made me very grateful that my Workaholic is coming home tonight. I may not see him, or see him in the morning, but I will see him in less than a year. A big THANK YOU to all the armed forces who work tirelessly for our country. And a big THANK YOU to my Workaholic who works so tirelessly for me. (Oh, who am I kidding, he totally does it for himself. And maybe Sam. But I'm still glad he does it.)

Friday, July 23, 2010

Random 4am Thoughts

I woke up at 4:20am, and still can't go back to sleep an hour later. So I am writing down some of my random thoughts that are keeping me awake, for your enjoyment.

When I rolled over and saw that it was 4:20, I giggled. I am 31 years old and a soon-to-be mother of two, and yes, I giggled.

I am sad that Rod Blagojevich did not testify in his own defense. It would have been an awesome train wreck to watch unfold.

I am officially in panic mode for this baby. The plan is to move Sam to her own room across the hall. While paint and wallpaper have been selected, they have not been installed, or even ordered. Furniture also has not been purchased.

Some people call this panic mode "nesting." I hate that word. I think it has more to do with the fact that I fall directly into a stereotype and not with the fact that other people are right about me. When I am not pregnant, I even tell pregnant people that they are nesting. Why do I do things like that?

My first job out of college was at a rental car company. My branch had a lot of clients who were from, for lack of a better word, the "ghetto." There were women who I rented cars to who had no issue telling me how I was a "little white girl" and then just laugh and laugh and laugh and talk in a form of the English language I could no longer understand. I learned then that stereotypes do exist for a reason. And I fall smack dab into one of the biggest ones. Turns out those women did too, as they were arrested for drug possession/dealing not too soon before I quit.

I like to make plans. However, I am learning that making plans is pointless with my husband. His chronic lack of ability to do anything on time is starting to get to me.

Normally I don't mind Workaholic's tendency to take on more than he has time for. But yesterday I turned nine months pregnant....see the paragraph above about panicking.

Fonz has decided to only eat Tuesday-Friday. I don't know if it is because we were at the bottom of a bag of food, or because it is so hot out, or if he just is weird.

Today is supposed to be the hottest day in 4 years. In Chicago. Which means it will be at least 5 degrees hotter where I live. I bet the heat index reaches 110 today, and I really wanted to run errands on lunch. No stinkin' heat is going to stop me from nesting!!!

Dear co-workers, it would be best to not talk to me until after noon today. And no, I am not kidding. Try me...I dare you.

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

A List of Sorts

When you are pregnant, and due in August, there are certain things that can make or break your day. Let’s go with the break first. (BTW...I would never recommend having a baby due in August. There really is something to the whole "being pregnant during the summer sucks" thing. Who knew??!?!)

1) Running late and having a crying toddler. This is pretty much every day, but sometimes when you ask them to come with you and they hide in the corner instead of cooperating, it just really ticks you off. (But hopefully she learned her lesson when she threw herself backwards in a fit of rage and whacked her head on the corner of the laundry room door. See?? Do what mom says and these things don’t happen to you.)

2) Having your milk spoil in the office refrigerator a mere 2 days after you put it there. Really??? If the damn fridge wasn’t so full, I would’ve put it in the back. But alas, I can’t see the back of the refrigerator. Those of you who work in an office with 50+ people understand.

3) People who use the office bathroom and pee on the toilet seat or floor. OK, I watched Mythbusters. Trust me. The lock on the door is waaaay dirtier than the toilet seat. Just spread some toilet paper and sit your ass down, because you SUCK AT HOVERING.

4) Not enough sleep at night. Again, this could be almost every day.

5) Making a to-do list and realizing how far you are from getting anything accomplished.

Now, let’s go with the make. Granted, this list is shorter, but sweeter.

1) Remembering to make 2 copies at once instead of having to get up twice to go to the copy machine.

2) Realizing that you no longer have to wear the BeBand. I have several pairs of pants that I bought for when I was pregnant with Sam to wear to work. They are a size larger than my normal pants, and are cottony/stretchy. Up until this morning, I thought I needed that damn BeBand that rolls up in the back to hold them up. Now, my belly fits that bill!

3) Nutty Bars…’nuff said.

4) Fruit snacks…especially the Starkist kind.

5) Chocolate milk.

6) Dairy Queen hot fudge sundaes.

7) Getting a good night’s sleep. Rare…but really helps out your day when it does happen.

8) Checking something off of your to-do list.

9) Cleaning out the office refrigerator and throwing away lots and lots of expired things. And then calling out your boss for having a bottle of water in there with his name on it, when he had no idea that it existed. And threatening him when he doesn’t drink the water. And getting away with threatening your boss just because you are pregnant.

10) Online shopping. A short high, but a high nonetheless.

I could go on and on. But I’ll stop. I am actually kind of shocked that the good list is twice as long as the bad list. Hmm…maybe I shouldn’t complain so much? Four weeks and counting folks….

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Thank You for My Cow

I mentioned earlier that we bought a freezer; hence the bad start to my weekend. It looks like this…

Any-hoo, we didn’t just up and decide to buy a freezer that you can store 3 dead bodies in. Nope, we did it because we bought a cow. OK, well, half a cow.

When my dad was in the hospital, my aunt and uncle came to visit while they were in town. I think they were kind of scared, because at that point he was pretty heavily drugged up and still had the turban on his head. Since he wasn’t really in the mood for talking, we sat around and bullshitted. We’re really good at that.

I have lots of aunts and uncles, and this particular pair are farmers. Like, real life farmers. They farm about 25,000 acres or something like that, and they have cows. (They used to have hogs too, but the market turned unfavorably and they stopped, which just blows my mind. That farm with no pigs???)

Aren’t they cute???? See how my aunt looks like she is laughing? She always smiles, and laughs and they are always both in a good mood. And even if they aren’t, they fake it pretty well. Must be all the fresh air they get.

So another aunt was also at the hospital, and my mom was on edge because we had six people in the Neuro ICU room and the limit is supposed to be two! (AHH!! We’re going to get kicked out!!!) And they all got talking about buying a cow or a half or a quarter, and my sister and I decided that we also needed a cow. So I bought a half a cow. And then we waited for a while.

The cows weren’t quite ready yet, so a couple of months went by, and I kept talking about how I bought a cow. And then the time came!! The slaughterhouse is just down the road, and I have visions in my head of a herd of cows wandering down this country road to their deaths. I mean, sad, but I’m OK with it, because I really like beef, and they had a good life. You know, until it was over.

My aunt promised me the best half of the best cow, but who knows if she told everyone that. Anyway, we found out that the meat was hanging, and then eventually I had to call and put in my order for how I wanted it cut. So I did, and a few days later, we got the call that all was ready. This is where it got dicey.

We thought that maybe my dad would go visit his brother and bring my meat back. And then he didn’t have enough coolers, because did you know that half a cow is 300lbs of meat??? So Workaholic decided to make a day trip of it. And whenever anyone asks him about it, he says this.

“It went fine, I was in the car for 8 hours, I was there for 10 minutes.”

Sigh…yes, I did buy a cow 4 hours away. Easier if I wasn’t 8 months pregnant in the middle of summer and worked full-time. So this blog is a shout-out to my hubby, a big THANK YOU for driving 8 hours to get my cow. Because it really isn’t like it makes much of a difference in his life, he doesn’t do the grocery shopping…he could care less if I have to stress about whether or not we have meat for dinner. But he loves me, and that is why he did it.

PS He doesn’t read my blog, so this is really me just bragging to the universe about how awesome he is. I have to do that every once in a while.

PPS Yes, we did buy a freezer to store the cow that I bought to save money. Yes, I realize that defeats the purpose. BUT, the meat is better than what you get in the store. At least that is what I am telling myself.

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

To Key, or Not to Key

Let me present a hypothetical situation for you.

Let’s say that you drive a car. And you have an attached garage. So you drive your car into your attached garage using the garage door opener to open the garage door. And then you walk into your house.

Now, let’s also say that you have a front door that can’t be opened just using a key. It also has to also be unlocked from the inside.

Sooo….if you always go into your house using your garage door opener, and can’t open your front door just using a key, do you automatically carry a key to your house?

I ask this because I got into trouble on Friday. My hypothetical came true. You see, we bought a new freezer. And it was delivered on Friday. Into our garage. Workaholic locked the door between the house and the garage, so shady delivery men couldn’t go a-wandering through our house. Which, in hindsight, I suppose was a good idea. (because it was mine!!) He made sure that he had a key to unlock said door. (after I told him I was pretty sure I did NOT have a key) Since he left after me, the door was indeed unlocked before I left.

Now let me explain Friday evening. I get home after picking up Sam at daycare after work. It is about 85 degrees outside with 200% humidity. It was roughly 180 degrees with 300% humidity inside my garage. And I had to pee. And Sam was hungry. And I had a million things to pack up to go to the lake. And the fucking door was locked.

I called Workaholic, because yes, this happened once before a few years ago. And we had another key made, and it was supposed to be “hidden” in the garage. But sometime over the past few years, that key has made its way onto “someone’s” keychain. He was an hour away, but in reality, more like 3 hours away. So finally, after a half hour of looking in various hiding spots around the outside of the house, I just got back into the car and drove to the lake. (Which actually worked out, because I got there before dark, and was able to eat a decent dinner.)

And Workaholic had to do all the packing himself. And he didn’t get to the lake until 3am. HAHA!!

So I am just curious…if you were me…would you have a key???

Thursday, July 8, 2010

Ranting & A 4 Year Celebration!

Today is my 4th wedding anniversary. In honor of the awesome, kick-ass party we had, and also in honor of the 12 years that Workaholic and I have actually been together, I am posting a rant. Because I can.

Dear LeBron James: Just make up your fucking mind already. Few people actually really care about where you are going to play basketball. And in the big scheme of things, it really doesn’t matter. So just announce your decision, preferably immediately via Twitter, because I am soooo sick of having to listen to everyone in Chicago obsess over you. You are not hot shit.

Dear Lindsey Lohan: Grow up.

Dear “a certain someone” at work: If you notice the toner needs to be changed in the printer, don’t tell an 8 month pregnant girl and expect her to do it. Just do it yourself.

Dear Baby/Parasite/Fetus: Please stay inside of me until you are supposed to come out. Your dad and I aren’t prepared for 2 kids yet.

Dear God: Please give me more hours in the day and more energy. I have a lot of shit to do.

Dear Matt Lauer: Please come back from vacation. I like Meredith and Ann, I really do. But we all know The Today Show is #1 because of you. So hurry back. Now.

And now…in honor of Workaholic, I’ll share a few pictures from this day, 4 years ago, when we were younger and much more na├»ve.

The three below pics are from our reception...me and Workaholic dancing (OK, him holding me up), my aunt dancing on a table (because that is just what she does) and me singing "The Devil Went Down To Georgia." Not planned, but friggin' awesome all the same. I shit you not, the dance floor was that packed the whole night. Good times, good times.

Finally, a picture of the me at the bar we took over after the reception was over. We hired a bus and I asked (badgered) our guests to get on it to go with us. That's Piano Man behind me. I tried to post a picture of the crowd, but there were 3 guys in the very front who I have no idea who they were or what they were doing in my picture, so you get this super cute one of me instead. (BTW, I am pretty sure this was taken before Workaholic got there. Yes, I changed out of my wedding dress and hopped on the bus and left him at the hotel. What?? He got there eventually.) A great day, a great night, and a great 4 years since. Thanks Workaholic!!

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Meatloaf's Road Rage

I HATE road construction. I mean, I know that it is a necessary evil, but I really hate road construction. It truly started a few summers ago, when Workaholic and I were driving to the lake together a couple of weeks before Memorial Day. We have to take a major expressway for about 50 miles. It is 6 lanes across, and it seems as though they are always working on part of it. That summer, they were working on a LOT of it.

We joined the thousands of other people leaving the Chicago area to head for a relaxing weekend in Michigan. And then we hit the lane closures. I think they took our three lanes down to two, which really should not be that big a deal. I don’t know if there was an accident thrown in there or what, but Fonz decided that day that he hates expressways, and especially those with road construction. Our hour and a half trip turned into over three hours, much of it just sitting. And Fonz got more and more nervous, pacing, panting…he knew we weren’t supposed to be sitting there. And ever since, he has been a wreck in the car. Sedatives don’t help, Xanex doesn’t help. I have considered combining them, but what has helped is sticking him in the third seat of the minivan and putting a seat belt on him. At least that way he isn’t in my lap. Less drugs are better for an almost 11 year old mutt.

I especially hated road construction this morning. They are re-paving a stretch of road near our house, and since I didn’t have to take Sam to daycare, I had to go that way to work. I could have taken the 10 minute detour. OR, I could have cut through the neighborhood which is right next to the road construction. Which I am sure everyone else does. And if I lived in that neighborhood, I would be soooo annoyed at all of these people driving through my usually quiet streets. But I decided I didn’t care, I was already running late and so through the neighborhood it is.

I was very cautious to be respectful of the speed limit signs. (Which the large black truck that had followed me did NOT appreciate.) I navigated the twists and turns with a keen eye…or so I thought. I came to the last stop sign, getting ready to turn left. There were 2 cars on my left headed towards me, and I was watching to see if they were going to go straight or turn by me. And I was watching my review mirror to make sure that big black truck wasn’t going to rear-end me. And I guess I forgot to look to the right to make sure no cars were coming before I decided to commence my left-hand turn.

Turns out, there was a car coming. And the woman in the tan SUV turning towards me wasn’t waving and cursing at me for cutting through her neighborhood, she was actually trying to warn me that I was turning DIRECTLY INTO THE PATH OF ANOTHER CAR. It was a red H2, driven by a man who sort of looked like Meatloaf. And he DID NOT appreciate getting cut off. To the tune of honking his little Hummer horn at me for a good 10 seconds. And then tailgating me a half of a mile to the next stoplight. And then pulling up next to me and ROLLING DOWN HIS WINDOW to yell at me.

I didn’t roll mine, I just waved my hands and said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you!” I wish I could’ve thrown my 8 month pregnant belly out the window and been like, “SHUT THE FUCK UP!!! DOES IT LOOK LIKE THE CRAZY PREGNANT WOMAN IN THE MINIVAN MEANT TO CUT YOU OFF??!” He shook his head at me regardless and pulled away.

But really people. I mean, I can understand road rage. Especially on a construction congested expressway. I understand getting angry and beeping your horn and flipping someone off. But in a neighborhood?? Where the speed limit is 25 miles per hour?? And then stalking someone?? Do you really think that I was in THAT much of a hurry that I intentionally pulled out in front of you to beat you to the stop sign a ½ block away? Don’t you believe in honest driving mistakes? I wasn’t talking on my cell phone, I didn’t have the radio up crazy loud. I was just trying to get to work.

And then it happened. I started to cry. I don’t know why. I was just so pissed off that Meatloaf just couldn’t be understanding and could be so mean to a little girl in a minivan. And then I couldn’t stop crying. The whole way to work, I was angry at myself for crying. Which made me cry more. It was like the time when I cried after an encounter with the Taco Bell drive-thru.

I hate crying. And I hate road construction. And I hate the Taco Bell drive-thru. I am hoping that all this just has to do with hormones, and the fact that when I left the house this morning it was already 150 degrees outside. A small comfort is that I have only about 6 more weeks of all this, and then at least I don’t have to worry about driving to work…at least for a while. Until then, I may try to avoid that damn neighborhood.

Thursday, July 1, 2010

Writer's Workshop-Smile!

Write a list of 10 things that are sure to put a smile on your face when you are not happy.
I felt this was an especially appropriate prompt considering my mood lately. So here goes!!

10. Boat rides. Although lately, I have to admit, it’s been very difficult for me to get comfortable…so even though I really want to go, most of them time I really just want to get off and float in the lake.

9. Workaholic’s “duck voice.” He used to do it all the time when we were in college, but I don’t think I’ve heard it for years.

8. Strolling on Purdue’s campus…especially during nice weather. The flowers blooming, the bell tower chiming, the sound of the fountain…heaven.

7. Walking into Ross-Aid Stadium or Mackey Arena just before a football/basketball game. There is something magic about thousands of fans who all have one thing in common…love of Purdue. And with the band playing and the tingle of excitement in the air, there’s just nothing like it.

6. “Mr. Mom” by Lonestar. For some reason, hearing this song, even before I had Sam, chokes me up a little. It’s like, these guys get it. They know what moms go through. That it isn’t easy being us. I mean come on…how can you not smile when you hear this?
Pampers melt in a Maytag dryer
Crayons go up one drawer higher
Rewind Barney for the fifteenth time
Breakfast, six naps at nine
There's bubble gum in the baby's hair
Sweet potatoes in my lazy chair
Been crazy all day long and it's only Monday
Mr. Mom

Then there is the very last part of the song, where I know they get it.
Balancin' checkbooks, juggling bills
Thought there was nothing to it
Baby, now I know how you feel
What I don't know is how you doooo iiiit.

And then they say, "Honey, you're my hero." Sigh.

5. “I’m Alright” by Jo Dee Messina. This is a song I have loved for years. I have very specific memories of driving up the US 52 hill going into West Lafayette on a gorgeous football Saturday, and driving down Coral Springs Drive in Florida in the pouring rain…and each time, I smiled.

I’m all, I’m all, I’m alright. It’s a beautiful day, not a cloud in sight, so I guess I’m doin’ all right.

I mean, come on. How can those lyrics not make you stop and appreciate the day, even if it is pouring down rain??

4. The Fonz…when he does this and this.

3. When I go into Samantha’s room at night, and she is sound asleep with her blanket wrapped around her head. I’ve actually seen her do it!

2. Watching Workaholic play with Sam. He is just so good with her, and it is so apparent how much she loves him.

1. Seeing my baby girl giggle.