Life As We Have Known It

I was talking to a friend recently and she commented how she couldn't wait for 2013 to be over because it sucked. Just a lot of commotion and not enough joy. And that is exactly how I feel. It seems when I reflect at the end of the year I always think of the bad things and how I want the next year to be better. Which I guess is sort of human nature?

I was super duper looking forward to selling our house this year that we had been in for 9 years. And WE DID IT! Do you know what happens when you sell a house that you have been in for any length of time? You have to pack. And there is so much packing that in order to do it properly you should take your time and think about it and sort things and be practical and get rid of things. Since Workaholic and I are champion procrastinators, you just know that didn't happen. Packing up a 4100 sq. ft. house into boxes sucked. Especially since the house was empty when we moved in and it was FAR from empty when we moved out. Workaholic wasn't (isn't) quite as willing to part with certain things like I was (am).

For example, all the furniture we inherited or took in as hand-me-downs so we could fill our big new house? He wants to keep. Or not just give away. I say, "Let's become Craigslist's best client." Bedroom furniture, office furniture, living room furniture, rugs, toys, bedding sets, and more I would be happy to part with in a big fun bonfire. I know it sounds stupid, but I'd rather not have a matching bedroom set of dressers that I don't like than have mismatched pieces of furniture that I do. AND, as it turns out, Workaholic and I have quite the different taste in...well, everything.

As a result, the story-and-a-half much smaller house that we bought has things in it that I really like. And a basement full of crap that I don't. Don't get me wrong, there are also things down there that I like. Kitchen gadgets that don't fit in our new cabinets, kid's clothing, Christmas decorations, Halloween costumes, fine china, and toys that I swear we'll bring out and the girls will play with them. Then there are other things...like Workaholic's dozen boxes of paperwork on I-have-no-idea-what, boxes of wires that belong to electronics that don't exist anymore, and OH-EM-GEE THE EMPTY BOXES. We have at least 20 LARGE cardboard boxes that are piled into a corner. This does NOT include that pile of broken down cardboard boxes that are in the same corner. There are also random assorted piles of wood and tools and sawhorses and electronics that actually DO work. And let's not even talk about the boxes (that I packed) of meticulously packed toys that were no longer played with that were unceremoniously ripped open and the contents tossed all over the basement. I walk down there and it is so overwhelming I just turn around and go back up the stairs.

Common sense and a host of hoarders experts would say that you take the big project and break it down into small projects and tackle them one at a time. A while ago I found out I have this lovely personality flaw trait called the "all or nothing". Which means if I don't think I can do it immediately and do it perfectly, then why even attempt to do it at all? I've been this way as long as I can remember and I have no idea how I graduated from college. With a somewhat decent GPA. Almost the only time I can get any type of large project done is when Workaholic is there pushing me. His unending energy and relentless desire to get everything done (and done perfectly) makes it almost impossible to just sit around. Not to say that I work as hard or as long as he does, but at least I do put in some time and energy and amazeballs, I get shit done!!

Our new home has very few decorations hung up and the Christmas decorations are half-assed at their best. And were mostly done over last weekend. I'm not a decorator at heart and I definitely cannot imagine what an entire room should look like based on one piece of furniture. I'd hire an interior decorator but HOLY SHIT THEY ARE EXPENSIVE. Their hourly rate doesn't sound bad, until you have them put in a few hours at your house and a few more shopping and all of the sudden you are looking at a couple paychecks worth of services.

Anyway, so that is where we live. The house we moved out of was perfectly decorated because I hired someone to make it look perfect for the real estate listing, and the new house is a scattered physical rendition of my brain. 

The house that we were in and that we are in now is only a part of why I am looking forward to 2014. In between houses we decided to live in the cottage in Michigan for the summer. I commuted an hour-and-a half to work twice a week, while Suky and the girls spent the summer on the lake. And Workaholic came up on the weekends. Let me repeat that...Workaholic came up on the weekends. So during the week I got little sleep because of the commute and the working and the fact that my daughters didn't like sleeping in their own room or going to bed at a decent hour or not waking in the middle of the night to come in and crawl in bed with me which then woke me up. On the weekends family and friends were there and FUN ENSUED. (It really did.) Then they went home and I drove to work and finally caved and let the girls sleep with me all the time just so I could get more than 2 hours of sleep at a time. Even with Suky there, the stress level was at an all time high. She missed her friends and working out at her gym, the girls and I missed Workaholic more than we ever thought possible, and then there was a host of other things happening that added to the fun. As much as I was looking forward to living at the lake for the summer, I honestly can say that it will never happen again unless I have a) a drastic personality shift, b) a promise of 8 uninterrupted hours of sleep every night, and 3) an exponential increase in energy. So...when pigs fly. (insert smiley face here)

2014 is going to be an awesome year for a multitude of reasons. We are "settled" into our new house. Which is smaller and much more manageable. We WILL get the basement cleaned up and out. The house that my father-in-law and brother-in-law and husband are building will be finished by Memorial Day. (It better be.) I will continue to work on my all-or-nothing personality and therefore hopefully will be able to more fully enjoy every moment. Good or bad. Stressful or not.

I'm not really into making New Year's resolutions because they are crap and I never keep them. (See aforementioned personality flaw.) And I am not making them this year. This year is going to be a continued resolve of the things that I have worked on in the past. I may have fallen off the bandwagon, but damn if I'm letting it go on without me.

GO 2014!!!

And MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!

Motorcycles

The other day I was driving somewhere with the girls down a relatively well-traveled road. I noticed ahead of me a couple of motorcycle cops with flashing lights, and at a stoplight they did a couple of circles in the intersection and then proceeded to head my way. There was a red light ahead of me, but the line of cars I was in didn't move even when there was a large space between them.

I was confused for about a half a second until I saw the motorcycles. Dozens and dozens of them, all riding behind the police motorcycle escort. Every summer there is a big motorcycle ride, I don't know where all it goes, but it always drives by the lake. The sound of a couple hundred Harley's makes the air shake. I called to the girls and told them to look out the window because they were about to see something very special. Seeing as how it was Veteran's Day weekend, I figured this was a fundraising ride of some sort and rolled down my window and gave a thumbs up, and waved for a moment.

The men all drove past. Staring straight ahead. In perfect rows of three. And then I looked further down the road, saw a long line of cars with headlights and small red flags stretched out as far as I could see, and sandwiched in between them and the motorcycles was a gold hearse.

Boy I felt like a dumbass.

Not a fundraising ride. A funeral. A funeral for a soldier.

I don't know if it was an active duty or veteran, but it really didn't matter.

Sam had started her running dialogue of questions when I tell her to look at something, and for a moment I couldn't answer her. The lump in my throat wouldn't let me. A couple of tears let loose and then I was able to compose myself as car after car after car passed me.

I have never really known a soldier. My grandfather was in the Navy, but he never really talked about it, I never asked about it, and he died when I was in college. None of my good friends from high school enlisted. I didn't hang with the ROTC crowd in college. And even though my dad's cousin's son (first cousin once-removed?) is in the Army, I don't know him well and we would only see each other about once a year. So it isn't like I have close, personal experiences with soldiers. The closest I have come is watching Army Wives. (and yes, I understand that doesn't count)

But I have heard stories. I have seen photos, read books, watched documentaries, and of course M*A*S*H. (as if that counts too) Certain stories stick with me. War sucks. I've never lost anyone that I was super duper close to, much less had them killed in a foreign country probably scared out of their minds.  

So I have empathy. And respect. And seeing a parade of veterans on motorcycles honoring their fallen comrade tugs at my heartstrings.

When Sam asked who died, I told her a soldier. She asked what a soldier is. How do you explain soldiers and war to a four year old girl who is scared of the dark and dinosaurs and loud noises? I'm not even sure what I said, something about a guy wearing a uniform with a gun who goes far away to other countries to help people. She was quiet and then started asking questions about panda bears. I was fine with that.

I think as a country we are getting better at thinking of veterans more than just on Veterans Day. We see the difficulty their families have while they are gone, the trouble they have when attempting to acclimate back into normal life, and the wounds they have suffered...inside and out. And that is a good thing.

Of all the people I have never met in this world, hands down the person I respect the most is a soldier. And that is how it should be.

Suckity-suck-suck

UUUGGGHHH!!

You know what sucks? Eating.

Putting nourishment into your body to keep it healthy and strong and allowing it to get you through every day. And I SUCK at that. I suck so hard.

Last spring I had a couple of chats with a nutritionist. You know what I learned? EVERYTHING IS BAD FOR YOU. Even the things that you think are good for you are bad.

Milk? Hells no. Skim milk is basically sugar water. The fattier stuff is fattier and still has sugar and that annoying thing called lactose. Which apparently isn't good for you either.

Bread? Nope. Not even wheat bread. I can't remember exactly why wheat is not good for us, unless it was the gluten, but grains aren't that great, and there is processed sugar in it too.

Processed sugar=BAD.

Do you know what has processed sugar in it?

EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING SINGLE THING ON THIS GODDAMN PLANET.

Except organic meat and organic fruits and vegetables. So ideally that is what I should eat?

That and quinoa. No one likes quinoa. Anyone who does is trying to sell you something.

So I have taken this information that I have been given and have essentially said "screw it" to attempting to eat healthy. This has resulted in me eating terribly, or not eating at all. Do you know what eating terribly or not at all does to you? It makes you tired. I am so goddamn sick of being tired.

I have no solution to this problem. I have tried the protein shakes and they are OK, some of them, but there is no way in hell I'd be able to drink those every day for breakfast or lunch. Or both.

So I continue to eat whatever catches my eye, meanwhile teaching my children the same awesome philosophy. (Yes, I understand that is bad.)

It's stupid, and I am sick of it, but it seems so overwhelming to even attempt to make one meal a day really good for me.

IT JUST SUCKS.

My iPhone is Coming! My iPhone is coming!!

You guys. You GUYS!

I'm taking the leap. The huge, ginormous leap. It's like going from having two boys to two girls. From having two dogs to two cats. From two scoops of chocolate to two scoops of vanilla with chocolate syrup. 

I'm replacing Droid with an iPhone.

Two years ago, I started working from home part-time. In order to do so, I was required to get a smart phone. Workaholic had a Droid, so I got one too. I quickly became one of those people that is staring at their screen, laughing out loud at seemingly nothing, telling people how my new phone was the greatest thing since ice machines.

I took pictures, was/am constantly on facebook, and joined Twitter. I was/am a texting machine. I actually understand why people have entire conversations via text. I can't explain it, but I totally understand it.

In short, I loved my Droid.

And then, a few months in, things started to go awry. I would hit the screen, and nothing would happen for a second. And it would randomly turn off and reboot. And sometimes, when I would be texting, it would stop typing. It was more than annoying, it was super annoying.

And then, it almost stopped working completely. Calls were dropped, texts were impossible. I just couldn't take it anymore. I called them, and they sent me a replacement. A refurbished replacement. So...that was awesome.

And the refurbished replacement had the exact. same. problems. as my old one. They weren't immediate, it took about a week for them to kick in. So I called again, and I was sent another refurbished replacement. Which has...let's say sufficed, for the past year or so.

But now, NOW, I get to join the legions of people who cried when Steve Jobs died. The ones who tweeted, "RIP Steve Jobs" from their iPhones, while working on their iMac, and listening to music they bought off of iTunes. So yeah, maybe I'm a little late to join the party, but baby, I'M HERE!

Well, at least I will be in a few days.

Are You There Brain?

I'm losing my mind. Wait, scratch that, I lost it a while back.

Let me illustrate.

Before Memorial Day, as I was packing up a bunch of things to go to the lake, I put my jewelry in a "safe place" where I "wouldn't forget where it is." Yeah, it isn't in that safe place. Or anywhere else I have looked. I try really hard not to think about it and hope that it will just reappear. If I dwell too long on it, I get sick to my stomach.

Earlier in May, I backed into Workaholics van not once, but twice. I did like, $4000 worth of damage.

Around the 4th of July, I got too close to my friend's mailbox pulling up next to it. While she was leaning out the window towards it. So not only did I almost take off my friend's arm, I also broke my side mirror to the tune of $633. (yeah, it'll be a while before that gets replaced)

When I ordered Sam and Charlie's flower girl dresses for the wedding they are in this weekend, I ordered two different colors. They are not supposed to be wearing two different colors.

On Friday, I bought a bunch of snacks and a pint of milk to take on a weekend trip. And then proceeded to leave the milk in the back of my van. Where I discovered it today, Monday. After a weekend of 100 degree temperatures. Yes, it leaked.

Our house has been torn apart and has furniture and boxes stacked everywhere. This is enough to make me feel unstable, and I guess that Kale feels the same way. Last week he got diarrhea. On Thursday. I had just had the carpets cleaned 2 days before. He got it again this morning, but in a different room. So you know, instead of getting one room's carpet re-cleaned, I get to do two. (he also threw up on Saturday, but at least had the courtesy to do it on the tile)

I stopped at the vet's office to pick up medicine for Kale today, and walked into the building, leaving my car running.

After we got home from the vet's office, we went into the house. I left the door to the garage open. And didn't realize it for 15 minutes.

In June, I lost my camera. My awesome camera, the one where it is almost impossible to take a bad picture, and it is just a simple point-and-shoot camera. Workaholic found it on a shelf a few weeks later. A shelf that he had told me was putting electronics on, so they didn't get wet or destroyed by young children. I was so excited, I threw it in my purse so I would be sure to take it to a wedding we were going to last weekend. When I took it out, it is broken. Go figure.

I lost my cat. Different story for a different post. Workaholic is convinced he will return home soon, I have a deep feeling of dread in my soul.

The first and last ones are the most painful for me. I have this weird outlook on life, this little belief in my head, that bad things don't happen to me. (of course they do, they happen to everyone) But whenever something bad happens, it takes me a while to realize the gravity of the situation. My grandparents died when I was in my teens. I was well into my 20s before I really grieved and was aware of how acutely painful it was to not have them around. And grandparents are supposed to die before you. 

I remember telling one of my best friends that if I had kids in this house, just shoot me. We'd been here about a year, and barely were engaged. We now have two kids in this house. I never thought that we would be here 8 years. It could easily be another one or two. I didn't think we would be the people who got stuck.

No matter how much I try to ignore it, the feeling of being overwhelmed isn't going away. 

I know what I need to do. I need to focus on my job. Focus on what I can do. Focus on getting through this. And then I can say, I DID IT. 

Everyone has challenges in life. Everyone has difficult times. How did you guys get through them? And be stronger for it??  

Comfort-the Gold Standard

When I was in middle school, my godmother who also happened to be my aunt gave me a beautiful little pillow. It had a purple silk pillowcase with my name embroidered on it. I loved it. But to be honest, it was sort of flat and not that comfortable to use as an actual pillow and so it really just sat as decoration on my bed. Although as difficult middle school years transitioned into difficult high school years, I found myself cuddling with that pillow whenever I needed a little sob session or reassurance that someone really did love me. 

That little every once in a while habit turned into an every night habit in college. I squished that little pillow into the crook of my arm and soon couldn't fall asleep without it. It soon became a source of contention with Workaholic, as I preferred to snuggle with my little pillow than with him. (Hey, I can't help it that he can't be squished into the nook of my arm!) Whenever we got into an argument, he would prove how angry he was by throwing my little pillow out the bedroom door...which made me more angry that he would "disrespect the pillow." This pattern has gone on for years.

Until now. I think he finally gave up. That pretty little pillow that my aunt gave me all those years ago has become an unrecognizable lump of cotton. The silky purple pillowcase long ago was in tatters and had to be thrown away. I took to putting regular sized pillowcases on it and wrapping up the cotton to sort of resemble something that would be appropriate to sleep with. When I was pregnant with Sam, he bought me a gas station travel sized pillow out of desperation. It actually resembled the size and shape of the original little pillow, but hadn't yet been molded into the perfect arm pillow. However, it was perfect for putting in between my legs when I sleep! Genius! I now have 2 little pillows.

He continued to whine and mock me for the original little pillow, so when I saw the smaller pillow pets, I bought one. And you know what? It is perfect! Other than scratching my face on a piece of Velcro every once in a while, those little pillow pets fit the bill. I bought one for home and one for the cottage in Michigan, just so I didn't have to travel with it anymore. After about a year's worth of use though, the soft and cuddly small pillow pet wasn't as soft. So I asked for a new one for Christmas. Ask and you shall receive!

Are you keeping track here? There is the original little pillow, the gas station pillow, the first small pillow pet, and now the second small pillow pet. (Not to mention the two small pillow pets that we got Sam and Charlie for Christmas as well.)  And here is the thing. I might have missed the boat when it comes to replacing the little pillow. Rather, each new pillow is an addition to the collection. On or around my bed there are various colors, shapes and sizes of small pillows that are just right to fit into the nook of my arm. I just can't bring myself to throw away the tattered, pathetic, old pillows...they were so good to me!

Workaholic fought me on this issue until a few weeks ago. It was then that I brought home an old gold blanket from my mom's house. It was one that had been on my bed all throughout my childhood. I am sure that at some point it was warm. But not anymore. Now, it is a '70s gold blanket that is thin and the soft satin on the edge is no longer soft, but actually kind of scratchy. To be honest, if I think about it, the whole thing is kind of scratchy. But I love it.

I curl my feet into the bottom and pull the top up over my little pillow and snuggle in for a good night's sleep. I feel safe and warm (as long as I have the comforter over me too) and the distinctive but not terrible smell of the gold blanket lulls me to sleep. With the exception of Sam waking me up almost every night wanting to crawl into bed, I've had the best sleep I've had in years the past few weeks. (OK, maybe not, but whatever, I love that gold blanket.)

What is your comfort item? The one (or three) thing(s) that is torn and tattered but it would just kill you to throw away?





  

All You Are is MEAN

After reading Mike Spohr's Valentine post last week, I started thinking about high school. (Go ahead, read it, I'll wait.)

Ugh.

I haven't gotten it out of my head for a few reasons, mainly because I have been listening to a certain song on repeat (thanks to Sam) and finding out that a friend of a friend is getting kicked out of his conserative Christian college for liking Lady Gaga...and that he didn't have many friends there because people sterotyped him.

I have pretty much blocked most of middle school out, but high school, unfortunately, is still there. In my brain. Why are kids such assholes?

You see, I switched from a "normal sized" public middle school to a very small Catholic high school. I think my graduating class was 46. I could totally see someone pulling this stunt on me my freshman year. It is actually entirely possible that someone DID and I had the good sense to block that out.

I will never forget walking into orientation freshman year. I knew one girl going to that school, ONE.  I was so excited to make new friends. I was convinced that I was going to be part of the cool gang. (My older sister had been at that high school eight years before me and THANK YOU SIS for setting the standards so high. She was the cheerleader at the very top of the now-illegal collapsing pyramid, she dated the cute basketball players, and as far as I was concerned, she ruled the school. She was INFAMOUS.) So in I walk to freshman orientation, dressed in my coolest tight-rolled jeans and an awesome red shirt with matching red slouchy socks. It was 1992. Let's not talk about my hair.

I tried sizing up the girls, figuring out who the cool ones were, aka my new best friends. I saw the ONE PERSON that I knew and said hi to her. I don't know for sure that I was doomed at that point. I only say this because I do faintly remember the cool girls trying to get me to be a cheerleader, but I was way too self-conscious for that. There was no way I was going to put on that short skirt next to all of those skinny girls. Maybe I signed my sentence right then. Or maybe it was the hair. 

There were 9 of them, this group that I wanted to join. It is really hard to start a new school with a bunch of kids who had been together since kindergarten and try to break into their cliques. Especially when there really were only 2 cliques. I had many classes with them, and would try to talk to them in class or between classes. I would stalk hang around them at the lockers. I said little, because no one really spoke to me. I just WISHED that they could see that I was friend material, that if they just gave me a chance, I could fit in. Like I said, let's not talk about the hair.

Here is the thing. I got to be such an annoyance to these girls, such a...weird little stalker, that they turned mean. Not that they were entirely very nice to begin with, but I really gave them no choice. (Other than the obvious choice of giving me a chance.)  They were just mean. They made fun of me, out loud, when I was in earshot. Hell, they made fun of me to my face. Yet I really didn't get that we would never be friends. 

It is at this point that I wish Taylor Swift had been around. She wrote this song called Mean. It should be an anthem for anyone who was ever picked on. Because let's face it. At 14, I didn't give a shit why these girls were mean to me. They just were. And this is how I felt...

I can see you years from now in a bar, talking over a football game.
With that same big loud opinion, but...nobody's listening.
Washed up and ranting about the same old bitter things.
Drunk and grumbling on about how I can't sing.
All you are is mean.

All you are is mean. And a liar. And pathetic, and alone in life
and mean. And mean. And mean. And mean.

The best thing that happened to me in that small high school was when I realized at the beginning of sophomore year that 7 of those girls were not returning to our school. The two remaining actually gave me a chance and we wound up being friends through high school and into college.

Sure...I was quirky. Maybe even a little weird. And let's not talk about the hair. Taylor sums it up perfectly though...why you gotta be so mean?

This also happens to be Sam's favorite song. It is the only mainstream song that she knows the words to, (she has Wheels on the Bus, Itsy-Bitsy-Spider, and Old MacDonald down pat). It is so cute to see her bopping in her car seat asking me to "play Someday again." I hope she learns something from it. 

Not a Real Hoarder, Probably Not Real OCD

I am big on giving things labels. It is fun, and usually makes people giggle. I'm not really serious, but it get my point across. I LOVE labeling myself, but I don't really like to tell anyone my current label. They range from PPD to ADD. OCD is one of my FAVORITES. I've never really seen myself as much of an OCD person though. I am not fastidious about keeping the fringe on my rugs straight, I don't wash my hands 13 times after I pee, and I know once I set my alarm clock I don't have to get out of bed to check it 5 times. I have trust in my way of life, the way I do things. If I did it, then I did it.

I've been doing some deep-thinking, re-evaluating of my personality. Like, do I have low thyroid, or am I just lazy? (blood tests don't look good on the low thyroid front)  Am I ADD, or just too lazy to really dig into a problem to find the real solution? Do I have asthema, or is not being able to breathe really a side effect of exercise? Deep, deep questions, people.

My main problem most of my life has been motivation. I just don't have it. To do anything. I do what I have to do to not get in trouble. I often find myself thinking, "If I am not going to do something perfectly, what is the point of doing it at all? Why clean out THIS closet when there are 5 others that need to be cleaned and organized too? Why exercise if it will only help NOW, and if I stop I will lose everything I gained? Why train Kale to do one thing when Kabo knows all these commands that Kale doesn't know?" (Hey, never said I was rational.)   

So let's recap...low thyroid, ADD, and PPD?

I would now like to add OCD to the list. And OCD just might be the root cause of all of my problems.

I have this need to do things just the right way. MY WAY. And if things aren't done MY WAY, then why do them at all? Why clean the house if I can't put the girls' toys into organized little bins? (I don't have said bins yet. And the thought of going through all those toys makes my head spin.) Might as well just leave them all over the place, that is where they will end up anyways. Why work with Kale on training his Stay when I only have a few minutes today, and he won't get it or retain it, and then I won't be able to work with him for a week?

Might as well sit on the couch and watch this show. What is the point of doing something at all if I can't do it perfectly, so less than half assed is just as good as 90%. (Who thinks like that????)

Workaholic is somewhat the same as me on the OCD front. However, his response is COMPLETELY OPPOSITE. He strives to do his best, all the time. He strives for PERFECTION. And oftentimes will get damn near close to it. And he spends A LOT of time doing it.  And that just looks exhausting to me. However, I do enjoy the fruits of his labor, even if it is only changing a light bulb on a fixture I can't reach without a ladder.

Am I the only one who is like this? Why do something at all if you can't do it perfect? And perfect is an impossible goal, so...

The thing is, I have noticed that the times when I do strive for perfection, I am usually very happy with the results. The other day I went through Charlie's closet, put all the clothes that were too small into bins, and then put those bins in the attic. Along with the Christmas bins that have been sitting out for the past 3 weeks. Even before I vacummed (who are we kidding, I STILL haven't vacummed), I was thrilled with the results. I was so happy to be able to reach into her closet and not have to wonder if the pants I just grabbed are one of the pairs that are too short. And while her closet isn't perfect, and the organization of the bins in the attic isn't perfect either, I was happy. Maybe because it was done MY WAY. That is the best way, after all. 

I try telling myself that as long as I don't wind up on the show Hoarders, I will be happy. But really, I would be SUPER HAPPY if everything had its place. And that place wasn't just a certain spot on the floor. Now I just need to get Workaholic on board to do things MY WAY. Because that really is the best way. At least in my head.

Never Too Late to be a Tad Thankful

I don't know if you've seen it, the people on facebook finding something to be thankful about every day. Around the 28th it should start to get interesting...they have already mentioned things like food, family and shelter, so they'll have to start being thankful for their local Starbucks barista or the fact that their toilet chose to work that day.

I'm not gonna lie, I was kind of annoyed when I saw that people were doing this. Thankfully, not too many of my friends decided to participate, so I feel as though I should make up the difference here on my blog.

Since it was the Ides of November yesterday, I'll do the 15 Things I am Thankful For. This is in no particular order, seeing as how I am sitting in my basement office contemplating whether or not I brushed my teeth today.

1. The ability and privilege to work from home. I am home literally every other day, and it was a long, hard fought battle at work to get this arrangement. There is something to be said for going into an office every 48 hours and conversing with people that you conspire with to make your company a profit. There is also something to be said for knowing that the next day, you don't have to hear the same voices in the background every minute and that you don't have to shower in the morning if you don't want to.

2. My pets. Sure, Kale can be a pain in the ass a lot of the times. And half of the time, you wonder where Fonz is. The other half of the time, you wonder where Sampson is. But in the morning and at night, all three snuggle up around me and give me the opportunity to pet down my blood pressure.

3. My bed. See above for morning and night.

4. My kids. Samantha and Charlotte have taught me that I can indeed endure pain. (Yes, I got an epidural, but I was in back labor before my knight in shining scrubs arrived.) They also have taught me that I have more patience than I ever thought I would, and that the patience does in fact run out. They are beautiful and smart and charming and have stolen my heart. And for that, I will be forever grateful. Even when there is poop on the floor and Kale is eating it and then Charlie decides to run and pee...at the same time. While not wearing a diaper.

5. Prozac. Because if the above situation would have happened pre-meds, I would have ran into my bed and cried and probably whacked the kids and the dogs and even Sampson, even though he did nothing wrong. Now I can deal. And even laugh about it.

6. My husband. Sure, he works a lot. Like, A LOT. Ask any of my neighbors. They will tell you. But he loves us, and everything he does is for us. He let me get another dog when everyone, including him, thought I was nuts. He doesn't yell at me when the house is a mess and there is no dinner because some days I just. can't. deal. He is my rock, and he is happy to do it. Plus, he makes me laugh. Like, A LOT. He knows just what I need, when I need it. And isn't too bashful to say so. Plus, there are a lot of light bulbs in our house that wouldn't get changed if it wasn't for him.

7. My DVR. And cable television in general. Not only does it provide a great baby sitter for the kids when I am trying to get work done or on the rare occasion I am making dinner, but it provides me great entertainment as well. NCIS, Parenthood, NBC5 news, (how you doin' Matt Rodewald?), How I Met Your Mother re-runs, Hoarders *shudder*, and the opportunity to watch  my Purdue sports when I can't attend in person. I would be bored if I had no TV. Either that, or I might be more well read.

8. The internet. I have learned so much from the www that it is ridiculous. I hear stories of other people's ways of life (like the Pioneer Woman), stories of how common stillbirth actually is, what to do for heartburn, and how to get the skunk smell out of dog's fur. It also has greatly enhanced my ability to buy lots of crap that I may or may not need in a short amount of time.

9. Michigan...the state, the lake, the cottage, the boats, the friends we have there. I love Michigan. I especially love our new cottage, and the couches in it, and my bed in it, and my kitchen in it, and the front yard. I am thankful that our friends put up with my kids and dogs, and for all that my in-laws have done to help us enjoy our life there.

10. My phone. Sure, sometimes I want to throw my Droid 2 against the wall and switch to the new iPhone with AT&T. But really, my phone has enabled me to be more addicted to the internet and Twitter and Facebook and blogs and checking the weather and traffic and e-mail at any time. And anything that helps with addiction is clearly something to be thankful for.

11. My ability to use proper grammar and spelling. I know the difference between they're, there and their; wine and whine; lose and loose; through and threw; your and you're; although I will admit sometimes its and it's throughs me threw a lupe.

12. Drive thrus. I don't know how we would eat half the time it wasn't for fast food restaurants and the capability to get your food without getting out of your car. I just wish there was a drive thru for milk and bread.

13. Family. Like, all of them. The sisters, the brother-in-laws, the cousins (hundreds of them!) the aunts and uncles, the nieces and nephews, and of course the parents of both me and Workaholic. Each and every one of you has made a special impression on my life. From my cousin I showed in my last post cuddling with his daughter, I learned how to have a good time and enjoy yourself. (hint: it starts with Busch Light) And he also taught me that even if for years and years you make mistakes and don't know what to do with your life, it is never too late to become a great husband and father. (OK wife and mother) I have so many family members, blood and not, who reach out at just the right time and remind me of who I am. And for that I am forever grateful.

14. My friends. You know that saying that you can't pick your family, but you can pick your friends? There is a reason for that saying. Because when your family pisses you off and makes you cry, you pick up the phone and call your friends. And they agree with whatever you are saying and sigh with you and say, "That is why you can't pick your family." And then they tell you a story about their own family that is so. much. worse. And you laugh and feel better. I have friends near and far, and they are there for me. No matter what.

15. Coca-Cola Classic. I know, I know, I should end with something sweet and sentimental. But I get all sentimental when I taste that bubbly sweetness sliding down my throat. Mmmm...

What are you thankful for?

Day 14 ~ A Hero Who Has Let You Down

You know, I didn't really read past the first couple of days when I decided to do this 30 Days of Truth.

Because a hero? Who has let me down? Geez.

I consider all of my grandparents my heroes because they raised families during one of the most difficult times of our country's history. But unless you count dying as letting me down, they are still my heroes. Because lets face it, everyone dies.

Other than them, I don't really have heroes. I mean, there are people I admire, for sure. But those people are human, and they make mistakes just like everyone else, and I can't fault them for that.

I know that there are people out there who are heroes. Like the firefighters from 9/11. But I don't know any of them personally, so they definitely haven't let me down. And Capt. Sullenberger, who landed the plane on the Hudson River. My dad is a pilot, so I have an appreciation for what he did. Again though, I don't know him.

Maybe I did have a hero when I was a little kid who let me down. Maybe that is why I have such an aversion to calling someone my "hero". As much as I am trying to remember, I can't. But now that I think about it, I am sure that there was an adult who I idolized who let me down. It happens. For now, I think I'll keep all of my heroes limited to people who can't disappoint. Like Jesus. He seems like a pretty good guy to have as a hero. I think I'll stick with him.

Day 13 ~ A Band or Artist That Has Gotten You Through Some Tough Ass Days

Here is the problem...I like music. But I am not really all. about. music.

I listen to it on the radio. But I don't have the patience to sit down and download songs I like and put them on my ipod and then organize them into playlists. I don't even know where my ipod is.

But I do have songs and bands that I like. Like, a lot. And I'll listen to them over and over and over again.

Like Jo Dee Meccina's song "I'm Allright." I always wanted to karoke it, but never had the guts.

And pretty much anything by Guns N' Roses. It got me through middle school. 'Nuff said.

"American Pie" by Don McLean. It is just a great song, and makes me think of the Piano Bar whenever I hear it.

Garth Brooks makes me reminisce for high school. As does The Offspring...specifically those songs "Come Out and Play" and "Self Esteem". OK, maybe those were good times...not bad times. But still.

Even if you aren't totally all about music, everyone always has a favorite song that might make them tear up or smile. What is yours?

Day 12 ~ Something You Never Get Compliments On

I could get all negative here, and say all the things that I don't like about myself.

Like my thighs, or my butt, or my housekeeping abilities, or my cooking abilities, or my social awkwardness, or how I never pick up my dog's poop. (in my own yard...or my parent's or in-law's yards...I always pick it up when he dumps on a walk!)

However, I think I'll take a different approach and go with my laundry abilities.

You see, I'm a bit particular about laundry.

I don't like the baskets to get too full.

I don't like to wash Workaholic's clothes with mine and the girls.

I use two settings, and have a panic attack if I see anyone using anything other than those two settings.

I measure out the soap, unlike my mother and mother-in-law.

I pride myself on always having clean clothes.

It's weird, I know. Which is maybe why no one ever compliments me on it.

Workaholic will, however, thank the laundry fairy every once in a while. He likes how she picks up his clothes, washes and dries them, and puts them back in the closet. He doesn't think it is me, because he never sees me do it. So obviously, it must be the laundry fairy.

Day 11 ~ Something People Seem to Compliment You the Most On

I'm going to go with my old standby on this one. My eyes. I have big blue eyes. Not crazy blue, or "OMGyoureyesaresoblue" blue, but they are blue. And they are big. Not "runawaybrideseewhiteallthewayaroundhereyes" eyes, but they are big.

I like my eyes the best about me, so I guess it is good that is the thing that people compliment me the most on. Ironically, it also seems to be the thing that my girls get complimented the most on.

Sam's eyes are no longer blue, but hazel. And she has beautiful, long eyelashes. People compliment her on her eyelashes and eyes all the time. It also could be that she bats them and smiles and cocks her head to get her way.
Charlie's eyes are still blue. And they are big and wide and filled with wonder. She is really starting to look around and take in the world around her. They get really big when she sees Sam coming, since that usually means she is about to get hurt.
Lately, people have also been complimenting me since I have lost all of my pregnancy weight. Well, all but 3 lbs, but who is really counting? That feels good, but I know that I am still overweight by 20-30 lbs and would love to lose that. If it didn't take exercise, discipline, or monitoring of what I ate. Something tells me I am not going to lose that last 20lbs.

What do people compliment you on?

Day 10 ~ Someone You Need To Let Go, or Wish You Didn't Know

It's time.

You need to get out of my life.

I have had it up to here with your poking and prodding and constant presence.

You know who you are.

You've done your damndest to bother me and bug me and keep me awake at night.

But it is time to move on. Go back where you came from.

Yep, I'm talking to you, nursing bras. Go back in the bin, I'm through with you.

Good riddance!!

Day 9 ~ Someone You Didn't Want to Let Go, But Just Drifted

Do you ever get those forwarded e-mails, and it talks about friendship and how certain people are in your life for certain reasons? And the whole point of the e-mail is that you are one of those people who is a true friend, there through thick-and-thin, no matter what?

I totally believe in that e-mail.

There are lots of people that I used to work with who I thought would be my best friends for the rest of my life. And then we didn't work together anymore, and that was that.

I had a great time with a lot of those people. I can think of one in particular who was there for me during a tough time. He just hung out with me, partied with me, and was my constant companion who kept me from getting too lonely. (and no, not talking about Fonz this time)

But time passes, and it is just impossible to keep in touch with every single person who you have met in your life. There isn't enough time in the day to maintain all of those friendships.

Now, I have certain friends from college who I may only see once every couple of years. We keep touch on facebook and through e-mails when someone gets married or has a kid. But I know that those girls will always be my friends. We may have drifted from each other's every day lives, but we know that we can dial the phone and pick right up where we left off.

So while lots have drifted, that's just life. If someone has drifted, there probably is a reason. Not necessarily anything good or bad, just life. The true friends will stick around, and even if you don't see or talk to them much, they are still true friends. And that is what I love about life.

Day 8 ~ Someone Who Made Your Life Hell, or Made You Feel Like Shit

OK, sorry Kevin, but it isn't just you.

Pretty much every boyfriend I ever had made my life hell at some point, and they all definitely treated me like shit.

I think it is part of the marathon of dating and finding your true match.

I think it is part of growing up and learning about yourself.

Because I can promise you that I dished out my own hell, and have treated people like shit. I am often thoughtless like that.

I try not to do that anymore. I am sure that I have done it though. It is all part of becoming the person that you want your kids to think you are.

Day 7 ~ Someone Who Has Made Your Life Worth Living For

I am on vacation, and so I am going to make this short and sweet. And perhaps unexpected, considering I have two beautiful little girls.

My someone who has made my life worth living is my dog, Kabo, or The Fonz.

Strange? Perhaps. But I got him when I was 21, and it is safe to say that the time between I was 21 and 26 was tough on me.

And he was there, every minute of it. I had to get out of bed for him. I had to work if for no other reason to feed him and house him. So yes, I have a wonderful husband and two awesome daughters, but Fonz got me through to this point.

When I was pregnant with Sam, someone pissed me off. And I wrote this post about Kabo. And that is why he has made my life worth living.

Day 6 ~ Something You Hope You Never Have To Do

Day 6 ~ Something You Hope You Never Have To Do

I don't want to make all of these days so serious, but this one is as serious as I can get.

I hope I never have to bury a child.

I watched that new Jimmy Smits show "Outlaw" the other night, and he was defending a woman who forgot her daughter in the car, and the baby died.

The line that has stuck in my mind the past few days is when the medical examiner was descibing the autopsy, and he said that the girl had ulcers on her vocal chords. From screaming.

The thing that terrifies me about this is that it can happen to anyone. There is real medical science that shows when you get in the car to go to work, you get in a zone. You don't even know that you are driving to work. And if you are sleep-deprived, stressed, and have something else distracting you, it is like the perfect storm. That is how it happens. More than what people know.

I saw on Oprah tips to keep this from happening, like always putting your purse or briefcase in the back of the car, next to the carseat. So you are forced to open that back door, and hopefully would notice if you got to work and your kid was in the carseat.

I read a couple of blogs of people who have lost a child, and no matter how it happens, burying your baby is THE WORST thing that can possibly happen to a mom.

So yeah, that is something I hope I never have to do.

Day 5 ~ Something You Hope To Do in Your Life

Day 5 ~ Something You Hope To Do In Your Life

There are lots of things I want to do, a lot of them involved travel. Which is weird, considering I am such a homebody. Who never actually stays at home.

Lately, my big thing is that I want to take a trip(s) out West. No need to leave the good ol' USofA, there is tons to see here and everyone speaks English!

I want to see the Grand Canyon and Mount Rushmomre, and visit Best Friends Animal Sanctuary, and stay on a ranch in Wyoming. I want to go snow skiing in Colorado and California and Utah. I want to go to Oregon and Seattle. I also want to go to Montana, if only to drive on the roads there that have no speed limit. And I want to go on a winery tour in California, and see Beverly Hills and Malibu and the Pacific Ocean. And of course, I want to go to Las Vegas. I'm sure there is a lot more to see in the West, this is just my short list. Anyone have anything to add??

I better keep working for all of these vacations...11/11 is my first day back.

Day 4 ~ Something You Have to Forgive Someone For

Day 4~ Something You Have to Forgive Someone For

Ouch...this is a tough one.

I have a husband who loves to work.

Some might say that he is addicted to work.

I knew this about him within about a month of meeting him. And I knew it wasn't ever going to change when I married him.

But still, there are days, nights, weekends, when I get very, very upset with him because he works so much.

And I find myself getting all worked up, angry, and I'll cry.

So on those days, nights, weekends, I have to forgive him. It is a work in progress, to not get so upset during those times. Because he is who he is.

And I love him for it.