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!!!

Scared

I just got back from walking around in the dark, freezing rain.

For 45 minutes.

At midnight.

Why would I do this, you ask?

Because I was looking for The Fonz.

Let's back up.

We don't have an invisible fence at our cottage in Michigan. I have never really needed an invisible fence for Fonz, he always just sort of stuck around. When he was younger, he would wander off a bit, but always came back in a timely manner. Only once was he brought home by a stranger who had picked him up on the road.

Our cottage is set on a couple of acres on a lake, surrounded by trees, and the back of the property butts up against a trailer park. We take a long dirt lane to get to it, which is lined with woods. So basically, if you are coming at night, in the middle of winter, when it is half snowing-half raining, it would appear as though you are driving down the lane of a creepy old house where the insane man who eats children lives.

On particularly cold windy rainy nights like tonight, Fonz is usually in and out of the house about a thousand times. Give or take once or twice. I don't know if he gets cold or bored or what, but he comes in, stays for about 2 minutes, and then goes to the opposite door he came in to go back out. And he is persistent, using his nose to knock the doorknob to let us know that he would rather be outside. Like, now.

After a while, both Workaholic and I noticed that we hadn't seen Fonz for a while. We kept going to the back door, turning on the light, calling for him and whistling. But nothing. We started to get concerned, and went out on the porch, and called and whistled. But more nothing.

Now we were worried. He comes when called, or at least makes an appearance so he knows that we saw him. He is 12 1/2 years old, he is a tad arthritic, he doesn't have the best vision and even worse hearing. And we are a hundred feet from a freezing cold lake with geese on an island about 200 feet out. He likes to chase geese.

I walked the yard next to the lake. I stepped in big mud puddles. I had Kale by my side, but that was little consolation. I looked in the lake, noticed that our pier had been destroyed by the ice. Workaholic was driving the lane, shining the headlights through the darkness, trying to spot our blond boy. I headed to the back yard, skirting the edge of the woods next to the trailer park, calling and whistling. But nothing.

We decided to walk the lane. That long, dark, long, scary lane.

And the whole time, I was thinking about my black lab we had when I was a kid. Black Sheep. When she was 12, she wandered away, as she was wont to do, and she stood on the highway and was killed by a car. The same thing could not have happened to my Fonz. It just couldn't. Things like that happen to other people's pets. He deserves better, he deserves peace when it is his time. But even more important, he deserves more time, more time to play and swim and chase squirrels and geese.

We got to the road and turned and came back. No sign of him. We kept calling and whistling. We had looked all over the yard, all over our neighbor's yards, under our deck, in the woods. We couldn't find him. I decided to get in my van and drive through the trailer park. Workaholic went to check the yard...again.

And when he walked into the back yard, on the same deck that we had stood and turned the light on and off and called and whistled and gotten no response...laid The Fonz.

He was just laying there, looking at Workaholic, like "Hey, where have you been? I am wet. And hungry, I think I missed dinner."

He was wet, but had no mud on his paws, unlike our shoes.

I was just so relieved to see him, I hugged him, gently chastised him for disappearing, and fed him his dinner.

I have NO IDEA where he was, and he probably didn't hear us when we called, or if he did, he didn't feel like getting up.

Little shit.

Let's recap...midnight, cold, rain, missing beloved dog, thorough search, terrifying thoughts, dog randomly reappears.

Safe.

Whew.

The other day, while looking for an old post, I stumbled across this one.

It seems a lifetime ago, where I spent my weekends drinking my life away with my in-laws and their friends, staying up until 4am playing Wii.

I guess it was 2 lifetimes ago...Sam and Charlie's.

This weekend, we came to the lake, went out to dinner, and, since we had a sitter, decided to continue the party by going to the pub.

The pub is a little bar on the corner, about a 1/4 mile from the cottage, and Karoyke Joe is there on Friday nights. I sing "The Devil Went Down to Georgia." Since I'd already had 3 or 4 beers by the time I got there, and I had missed Joe so, I drank one more Bud Light and decided it was time to resume my stand at the mike.

And sing I did. Here is the problem with me when I go up to sing that song. I get really nervous. So I drink as much as possible during the fiddle parts. I usually down almost an entire beer in the splan of what, 3 minutes?

Which does not usually bode well for the rest of the evening. There was more singing, and dancing, and lots and lots of laughter. We actually had a really good time.

We closed the place down. We got home. We got in the hot tub, I took care of Workaholic. (Let's just say he was in the bathroom, and didn't feel so hot. I didn't take care of him in any other way, you perves!) And then I went to bed.

And then I woke up. And I remembered why parents of young children don't do this. I had a headache (and we were all out of Excedrine!) and I was just. so. tired. All I did was laze around and taken care of Charlie until she was ready for another nap, at which point I took a nap.

The thing is, I am NOT a good singer. And that is why I generally only sing the one song, I am comfortable with it, and kind of kick ass at it. But other songs? Like Sweet Caroline? And maybe a Bon Jovi song? Not usually my cup o' tea. I have no idea how many other songs I sang. On Sunday, our friends came over and told me that they had decided while I was singing that I have "charisma." Oh boy.

Let's just say that it is a good thing no one was recording the singing at the Pub on Friday night. I will say that having "charisma" is really. hard. work. Especially if you have to down 10 Bud Lights to get it.

Another New Addition

This is the second time this summer I've been swindled into buying a "new" jet ski. (after we swore off jet skis forever, since they are always breaking and are a suckage of time and money)

This one is from 1989, and is the old school stand-up kind. It's just what Workaholic always wanted. Seriously. He's lucky he works so hard.

Charlie Pooped!!

The past couple of weekends, I have left the comfort of my green house for the comfort of another house…my in-laws' house on the lake. I have a couple of reasons for doing this.

1) Workaholic has been working a LOT and when I go to the lake, well…I have more help.

2) My green house is a mess. And when I am there, all I think about is food and laundry and vacuuming and food and what isn’t on TV.

3) When I go to the lake, I have more help. (my mother-in-law is there full-time, plus her friends come over and rock a crying baby to sleep, or play with an energetic toddler)

4) There is just something more calming about sitting on a porch listening to the waves lap at the boats than sitting in your house watching Ellen re-runs.

5) Did I mention that I have more help??

So my mother-in-law and I got to the lake on Thursday, and by Friday afternoon, Charlie had decided not to poop. Since Wednesday morning. And this made her cry…relentlessly. All afternoon. The two of us were fried, and thankfully Samantha took about a 4 hour nap. It was during this nap that I found myself sitting on the porch, looking out at the lake, just crying. I couldn’t stop, and I found myself getting upset with Workaholic for working so hard. Even if he sent his mother as a substitute (and she did a great job!), it wasn’t the same as having your husband there to help when your newborn daughter can’t shit and won’t stop yelling at you about it. And I was wondering how in the hell I was going to raise two kids, and would I really ever have the desire to have any more??

By Friday night, we had decided to go ahead and go to dinner at a friend’s house on the other side of the lake. I wasn’t too sure about this decision, but we did need to eat. Plus, more adults meant more people to help with my kids. (I’m shameless, yes, I know.) While we were there, Workaholic and his dad got there. I had been missing him, well, since before Charlie was born.

As soon as he walked in, I wanted to go fall into his arms and just cry. Charlie had been crying all day, I felt as though it was my turn. I wanted him to just wrap his arms around me and rock me and then I would grab the car keys and run. To the car and leave him and the kids behind. It was his turn, after all.

But I didn’t. I hung out and ate dinner and let other people hold my infant and entertain my toddler. And then it was time to go home. And Charlie still hadn’t pooped. And this is why I love Workaholic, and why I was missing him so much.

When we got back to the house, it was decided that everyone was getting a shower, except for me. I would be the one to take the kids out and dry them off and get them dressed. I had told Workaholic how I had called the pediatrician about the not pooping, and she told me to wait it out. And how I had read online about using a Q-tip to, um…help things along. (***Disclaimer…there may be strong feelings regarding what happened next, and you know what?? I don’t care…it worked and that is all that matters.)

And so, in all his Workaholic glory, he did it. While he had Charlie in the shower with him, he used a Q-tip and stuck it in her ass pooper. He had asked me if there would be an immediate response, to which I said, “Yeah…I don’t know.” If you are wondering, yes, there was an immediate response. And even after he handed her off to me, (after she pooped on his hand) and I wrapped her up in a towel, she pooped in the towel, twice!! And then when I put a diaper on her, she pooped in there too!! A lot!!! Dear God…thank you for letting my daughter poop. And thank you even more for giving me a husband who will do what it takes to make my daughter poop.

So today, so far, is a much better day than yesterday. Workaholic took one of the night feedings, and Charlie ate and then went back to sleep, just like she is supposed to. And after she was up for about an hour and a half this morning, I was able to swaddle her!! And get her to sleep without using me to go to sleep!!! It’s the little things. And those are what keep me going.

Weekend Fun...Against Doctor's Orders

We recently got a "new" jetski...which is pretty funny considering we had sworn off all personal watercraft as huge expensive wastes of money. But when this one came in as a trade, my brother-in-law couldn't pass it up and conned us into giving a couple hundred dollars to it. And insuring it under our policy. Sigh.

Anyway, I used to love the jetskis, until they died on me, so I wanted to try this one out before I am banned from the lake for 6 weeks. It is way more unstable than it appears! And yes, when I let it slip this morning to my doctor that I rode a jetski this weekend, he slightly freaked, sighed, and rolled his eyes at me. And then told me NOT TO DO THAT ANYMORE. Funkill.

Workaholic is also determined to permanently traumatize our daughter to anything that is fun. She went on two rides this weekend...the first, I could hear her crying as he drove away from the pier. The second, she actually waved as they were coming back in and cried when he made her get off!! That's my girl!

Of course, she handled tubing like it was nothing a few weeks ago. Not sure why this was so different, unless the fact that it was way more stable and we were going 2 miles an hour and she had buddies with her who thought she was pretty awesome. That might've helped a bit. If you look close, you can see she is the only one in the picture who is really smiling!

We love to have fun at the lake, and I am glad that she is starting to enjoy herself...you know, just as summer is ending. Oh well, snowmobiling is in a few short months!!

Roughin' It

Before I was born, my parents took my three sisters camping. And it rained. All weekend. And my mom swore right then and there that she would never go camping again. Hence, why the closest thing to camping I have ever done was sleep, one time, in a tent in my backyard. And I am not completely convinced that I even made it all the way through the night. In fact, I am pretty sure I didn’t, because I didn’t get it. What was so great about this?

When Workaholic was about three years old, his parents bought a trailer home on a piece of land his uncle owned on a beautiful little lake in Michigan. They started going there every weekend, and eventually spent their entire summers up there. They had cable TV, and their own beds, and running water. For obvious reasons, they never really got into camping either. The joke in his family is that camping for them is the Holiday Inn.

Flash forward 30 years to Friday night. I had taken the day off of work so I could get to the cottage in Michigan while it was still nice out. Workaholic called and told us to “batten down the hatches”, because a storm was on the way. No biggie…we had a terrible storm the weekend before and we all lived. Even if we thought we were going to die. But that’s a story for another time.

The storm came and went, lots and lots of wind, and some rain, and lightening. Nothing crazy, just a really good summer storm, in my personal opinion. It didn’t even last very long. So we’re just sitting around, watching TV and chatting, and then the power went out. Hmmm…

We were soon to find out that a tree branch had fallen on a power line a few houses down and started a fire. And then a transformer blew somewhere else down the street. We are in Michigan, so this might take a while to fix. Things seem to flow on different time there. Looks like we’ll be roughin’ it. I start to seriously contemplate going home…I mean, no TV, no toilet, can’t open the refrigerator, why stay?? I could go home to a perfectly cool house, with OnDemand and internet access. Here…we just have a lake. With sewer water flowing into it because of an idiot neighbor.

Before I know it, a generator has been produced. (turns out marrying into a construction family comes in handy for multiple reasons) The first thing to get hooked up is the fridge. The next thing? The TV. And finally, the pump for water. Yes, we know how to prioritize.

We were out of power for about 30 hours. It was the longest 30 hours of my life. I don’t understand camping, or why you would do it. Where do you pee? How do you take a hot shower? Don’t you realize how difficult it is cooking everything on the grill? (not that I personally did any of the cooking) Do you really sleep on the ground?? I just don’t get it. Just like when I was 8 years old and attempting to “camp” in my backyard.

So yeah…we were roughing it this weekend. Cable TV and all.

Will Work for Outlet Malls

A couple of weeks ago, I did one of those 50 Things About Me. I really had fun doing it, and even contemplated expanding it to 75 Things. But I thought that might get a little long, and people might be like, “Uh Gail, really don’t care that you don’t care about which way the toilet paper hangs.” So my 50th thing about me was that I really really really want to be a stay-at-home mom. I am getting a little taste of it this week since I am on vacation. YAY!! This is probably one of the first vacations that I have taken a whole week off of work without going somewhere which requires spending a ton of money. I am at the lake, at my in-laws cottage, which is one mere hour from the outlet malls. (which, ironically, are a mere 45 minutes from my house) And when I woke up this morning and it was raining, I knew that I needed to go shopping, because Workaholic needs new work shirts. And he only likes Polo shirts. To wear to work. As a carpenter.

I’m not even going to pretend like I don’t like to shop. I will say that I am not a real big fan of spending money, but I do understand that in order to shop, you must spend money. And the outlet malls are PERFECT, since everything is on sale. And right now, there are BACK TO SCHOOL SALES. Which means even more money saved. YAY!! (My mother-in-law would tell you that I do have an issue with shopping, just look at Sam’s closet. I think sometimes she holds back buying her anything because she already has so much…and for this, I am genuinely sorry. Poor kid can’t even get spoiled by her Oma.)

Workaholic has to work part-time this week, half days until Wednesday. Which is great, because Sam didn’t wake up until almost 11am. (I was actually lying in bed, waiting for her to get up. Weird. Not bad, just weird.) So he has to pass by the aforementioned outlet malls on his way home, and I figured he could just meet me there; we’d eat lunch, and commence shopping. I promised myself that I would just hit the core stores, J Crew, Polo/Ralph Lauren, The Gap, maybe Carter’s for Samantha.

Usually, I take one of my best friends Dr. Nadene with me when we go to the outlet mall. She complements my shopping style perfectly; we cruise through stores at about the same speed, bounce ideas off of one another, and have the same mentality when it comes to whether something is on-sale enough. Which is to say that it is worth our hard-earned money. Today of course, I had Workaholic as a shopping partner. And he is not nearly as smart a partner as Dr. Nadene. Not even close.

Exhibit A: (this photo doesn't really do the pile justice, because that stack on the top left is at least 8 shirts. And the pile next to it is 4 more. And so on...)


We went to The Gap, Osh Kosh B’Gosh, Gap Kids, Nautica, Polo, Banana Republic, Aldo, Puma, Children’s Place, Gymboree, Coach, Tommy, Hanna Anderson, J Crew, Nine West, Carter’s, and others that I can’t even remember. I didn’t buy something at every store, just most of them. (Carter’s I had something in my hand, but when I realized that not only was there only one clerk, but she was training someone, and that the person they were checking out had, and I am not even kidding, 40 things, not even the first of which had been rung up when I got in line behind them-I knew I had to put my stuff back and leave. I can get better deals on Carter’s stuff at Penney’s anyways) I actually had to tell Workaholic no on certain things. “No, $40 for a Polo shirt is NOT a good deal.” ($20, on the other hand, is) We were there almost 6 hours, and Samantha was a shopping CHAMP. (She crashed on the way home.) Workaholic, too, was a champ. Then again, he LOVES to spend money, and understands that shopping is a necessary part of spending.


I tried hard to not spend frivolously, and feel pretty good that I bought stuff on sale, and good sales, stuff that Sam can wear next year. And Workaholic has 30 new shirts to wear to work (OK, maybe not 30, more like 12), and I don’t have new J Crew pants to wear because the stupid store didn’t have my stupid size. (such disappointment) But mom? Mother-in-law? Sam could still use some cute winter clothes, you know, if YOU feel like shopping. So much for this being a cheap vacation. Outlet malls...my reason for working.

Fear and Common Sense???

Last week, Workaholic threw an idea out to me that I immediately shot down in my head. It was crazy. He wanted to go to his parents cottage in Michigan and go snowmobiling with his brother and our friends. What was he thinking?? Our new daughter would be 8 days old. What if the roads were bad? Or worse yet...what if the roads got bad after we got there and we couldn't leave??

And then I got to thinking...we spend a lot of time there. Most weekends in the summer, usually a lot of weekends in the winter, and sporatically throughout the spring. (Not much in the fall because of Purdue football and the holidays.) And we are going to keep going there as long as God keeps us in his good grace to allow us to go. (and my in-laws good grace!) This kid is going to be spending a lot of time at this house, might as well get her used to the car ride. And how cool is it that she can say, "Yeah, I've been coming to the lake since I was 8 days old."??? Why let fear and common sense stop us?

So last Friday, we packed the minivan to the hilt, and set off. (Of course, we had 2 stops to make before we even left town), Once we got on the road, I tried to relax, but there was one little problem. Like a good mom, I was sitting in the back with my daughter, (should she need me for anything I am right there) and I realized that I kind of get carsick! Geez. (I was exhausted from the day, so maybe that played a little part). Needless to say, by the time we got there, I was happy to breathe in that freezing cold subzero air. And the kid?? She traveled like a champ. Slept the whole way there...and back!!

I am attaching the below picture just because I am so proud that I made the trip as soon as I did. (and to document the first time she went to the lake) I hate this picture, I look fat and bloated and (wow...still pregnant!!) and still slightly car sick. And yes, she is in that carseat...isn't that the coolest thing covering her? Who needs a million blankets?? (and yes, there was about 20 inches of snow on the ground...there was more by the time we left)

So we go in, and she is greeted by my in-laws, and swept from my arms, and I think I changed one diaper all weekend. It was great. I slept a lot, drank about one glass of wine, and slept some more. (in explaining why we decided to go last weekend, Workaholic explained to people that his new daughter was stir-crazy and needed to get out of the house)

I am glad that we got that first trip out of the way, under my belt...so to speak. I think that our little girl is going to like car rides, as well she should, only fun and excitement exists at the end of them! And now we won't think twice about packing the minivan to the max and throwing kid and dog in there and setting off for another great weekend!!