How To Get Pregnant

I haven't blogged in a while, mainly because I was insanely busy at work. Workaholic didn't understand what I meant by that, because his every day is what the first 15 days of 2013 were for me. It sucked, because I had to think SO MUCH. I would get home, and yes, I would usually leave work on time because I had to go in on the weekend anyways, and it would be 5:30 and I would ask if I could go to bed. I was always told no, which is crap, but whatever, I'm totally over it. (or not)

So I am just sitting here in my basement trying to think of something awesome or random or stupid to blog about. And the only thing I can think about is how I don't understand how young girls get pregnant by accident in this day and age. I mean, seriously. With the internet, and the internet, and of yeah, the INTERNET, there is so much information available on how not to make a life changing whoops. In the past year or so, two ladies in their early 20s that I knew pretty well were incredibly shocked when they found out that they were pregnant. It was a joke in my house that we were going to offer to give lessons on exactly how to get pregnant. Not how not to get pregnant. But HOW to get pregnant.

So here goes. 

First of all, if you want to get pregnant and are on the pill, then don't take it at the same time every day. Because in order for it to be 99.5% effective, you have to take it at the same time every day. If you miss a day, or two days, or better yet three days, your chances for getting prego increase.

Secondly, if you are on birth control and want a baby, go on antibiotics. Because that little white pill is useless against the medicine meant to make you feel better.  If you don't use back-up protection, then trust me, you will be feeling a LOT worse soon.

Third, there is a rhyme and reason to your bodily functions. If Aunt Flo is reasonably predictable, then there is a good solid week where you need to be extra super duper slutty. (or careful, if you actually are trying to prevent becoming with child.) If not longer. Really, anytime between 8 and 17 days after the first day she arrives are your go days.

Condoms are for losers. At least losers who don't want to become parents.

Oh, and just as a side note, the pill and the ring and the shot are all great at preventing babies. They are not so great at preventing fun stuff like chlamydia and herpes and HIV. Just sayin'.

So yeah, there you go, a step-by-step tutorial on how to get pregnant. Remember, the younger you are, the easier it is.

***Disclaimer, I don't really want 16 year olds or anyone who isn't married and/or financially stable to have kids. Because kids are a lot of work and cost a lot of money. For other side effects, please see www.scarymommy.com.


  

My Dearest Target, I Feel So Deceived

Dear @Target,

I love your store. Truly, I do. If you had an opening for a person who shopped and delivered someone's order, I would totally do it. Like Peapod. But better, because it is Target, so, you know.

There is rarely a complaint that I have with you. The store I go to always has sufficient lanes open, is clean and well-stocked, and I never feel as though I'll be shot in the parking lot. Even in the dark.

I do, however have two tiny little complaints. Well, one is minor, the other one...you're messing with my feelings Target. And that's just not cool.

The first is that I wish you had larger carts. Not for everyone, of course, but for those who walk into your store knowing that they'll spend a couple hundred dollars on large paper products and other various household necessities and groceries. Kind of like how the grocery store has those little carts for when you are going to pick up just a few things, but...bigger. Can you get working on that? K thanks.

The second is that you shouldn't try to trick your customers. It's not nice. Let me explain.

Every couple of months, I go to Target and am thrilled to see that several of the things that I buy are on sale. But they just aren't on sale. If you buy two of certain kinds of items, let's say Bounty and Charmin, you get a $5 gift card to use on your next purchase! Yes! Saving me money and bringing me back to spend more! Genius! It makes me feel so warm and fuzzy inside when the cashier says, "And you have earned a $5 gift card, here you go." I tuck it lovingly into my wallet right next to my RedCard. (Oh by the way, thanks for the additional 5% off every time I check out. I have gotten so used to it I almost asked the cashier at the grocery store I sometimes frequent why my total didn't go down once she was finished scanning. Now that would have been awkward.)

I was thrilled today when I went in to get my usual stock of paper towels and toilet paper when I saw that the $5 gift card was ON! Yes! I shoved the 18 pack of Bounty onto the bottom of my cart and headed for my Charmin. I'm a tad particular about my Charmin. You see, I like the blue kind, but I don't like it when the roll is so big it doesn't fit in my little toilet paper holder in my guest bathroom. So I always get the double roll, as opposed to the mega roll. The mega roll is just kind of ridiculous. I always get this particular combination of Bounty and Charmin to get my gift card, and each aisle had the little red and white cards in front of the products telling me that there was a special. Since I do it all the time, I didn't think to look at the little black print on the little red and white card that was in front of the toilet paper. I knew how this worked.

Fast forward to check-out. The lovely cashier scanned the paper towels, and then the toilet paper, and moved on to the next item. Wait, wait a minute...where is my gift card? I want my $5! They always give it to me when the second item is scanned. That's just how it works! When I asked her about it, she told me that the Charmin wasn't one of the qualifying combinations with the Bounty, but instead I could get a free Charmin Freshmates. Um, no. I don't want a Charmin Freshmates. I want my $5 gift card.

Why the change Target? WHY? I've been getting this gift card for as long as you've been doing it, and I always get the exact. same. products.  If you didn't want to include the 24 double rolls of ultra soft toilet paper, then why run another special at the exact. same. time? So people will grab the usual and not find out until the get to the check-out, where there are four very impatient if not-too-bright customers waiting behind me?? (What? It was obvious how much I was buying, why get in line when half of my cart is still full? You have to know it's going to be a while.) I feel tricked, deceived, and kind of dumb. I don't like feeling dumb. It's like you knew I would just grab the same products and be forced to buy them even though they are not on sale once I got to the check-out. And, to top it all off, I didn't even get my free Freshmates!

I know what you are going to say. Read the fine print. Easy enough, but as a mom of two two-leggers and three four-leggers and a husband whose nickname is justifiably Workaholic, you can't expect me to read the fine print on the same special that I have always indulged in! . go to Target alone for a mini-vacation, not to squint my eyes and attempt to do math in my head. That's just no fun.

So can you do me this tiny little favor? Just keep the good old specials the same? Don't make things so difficult. Keep us busy moms in mind. And make some bigger carts. Please and thank you.

Have a good new year,
Gail

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.

A Little Wedding Info

I have had a whirlwind of a few weeks. In the last three weekends, I have been lucky enough to see six people profess their never-ending adoration for and to each other.

They will love, honor, and cherish each other through sickness and health, for richer or richer, and the women will obey. (OK, maybe no one actually said obey, but you know the guys were thinking it!)

After the final wedding, I realized that there are a few key things that need to happen in order for a guest who is also a parent to have fun. That and there are just some songs, that no matter how much you think they are just SO CLICHE, that absolutely should be played at a wedding reception. (It just isn't a real celebration until you have line danced.)

1. If you are a parent, either leave your kids at home or hire a nanny to come with you. Yes, that's right...I said HIRE A NANNY. That means that it isn't just Gail and Workaholic, it is Gail and Workaholic plus one. During dinner, you get to eat. After dinner, you get to mingle and chat with people that you only see at weddings and funerals. And during the dance portion of the evening, the nanny takes your kids out to the car to watch a movie, pee in the car seat, and then act as your designated driver for the ride home. It is a win-win for everyone! (It is better to hire someone if you can afford it than bring along a family member, especially a grandparent, to act as a babysitter. The guilt factor is just too much.) 

2. Now, #1 says to hire a nanny, but really, the best option is to leave the kids at home. An even better option is to hire someone for at least 24 hours, so you can have fun at night and not have to worry about the darn kids waking you up the next day. OR, even BETTER, leave the kids at home with the husband and the dogs and go to an out-of-town wedding stag. Dance like a fool with your cousins and then go throw your migraine up in the banquet hall toilet. (Be THAT cousin who puked in the bathroom.)  And then rebound and stay until the very. end. of the reception. And then sleep until noon at the hotel. THAT'S the way to do it.

3. For a wedding to be a real success...open bar. Enough said.

4. Dance. Dance like Kevin Bacon in Footloose. Be a fool. Dance like no one is watching. Because really...no one is. No one will remember how you were dancing, because there is an open bar. (unless there is a videographer...in which case, well...just be aware that you are on camera for the rest of eternity)

5. Talk to people you normally might never talk to. Just plop your ass right down next to them and say hello. You know what? They'll say hello back. And if the conversation starts to get awkward, just scream "I LOVE THIS SONG!" and run out to the dance floor.

6. Be sure to tell everyone how much you love them. Preferably, tell them that you "heart" them. And how they are your most favoritest people in the whole wide world. Be sure to say that to everyone you talk to.

I am sure that I have lots more tips, but basically...eat, drink, be merry. Dance your fool head off.

Speaking of dancing, wedding are the best places in the world for white people to get their groove on. I tried to get several men on the dance floor over the past three weeks, and each time I was told, "I don't dance, I'm white." Whatever.

The following songs are a must...trust me, I'd been to 40 weddings by the time I was 21, so I know.

• "Old Time Rock n Roll" - As a little kid, I was the one to request this at each and every one of my cousin's weddings. I swear, there was one time that they played it three times, and that was the best. wedding. ever.
• "Love Shack" - Wanna get people on the dance floor shaking their groove thing? There will be shaking and jumping and screaming of the lyrics. Fun will be had.
• "Shout" - Yes, Shout. At my cousin's son's wedding, it was decided that not only was it played at the mother's wedding, but also her mother's wedding. The song stands the test of time.
• "Summer of 69" - Did you know that Bryan Adams was 9 years old in the summer of 1969? I don't think he was talking about the year when he wrote the song...and everyone knows it.
• "Footloose" - Yes, another song from the 80s. But there is nothing like watching a bunch of people standing in a circle on the dance floor kicking their feet out and doing the Willard Shuffle. And knowing exactly what they are trying to emulate. And then running out to join them.
• "Wonderful Tonight" - Since most of the guests will NOT be in their prime, they need a break every now and then with a slow song. This one'll get even the laziest of husbands on the dance floor.
• "The Electric Slide" - I don't care how corny and 90s it is.  Everyone knows it, and grandma will like watching the kids and adults trip over their feet.

Finally, there is one song that is a requirement for me to declare a party a perfect party. I sang this at my own wedding, which could be the reason why I think my wedding was the bestest wedding reception EVER.

"The Devil Went Down to Georgia"

Bonus points if someone hands me the microphone.

I am sure there are a ton of other songs that you MUST hear at a wedding reception. What are your favorites?

Crazy Thoughts

Every once in a while, I take the trip to my alma mater alone for a home basketball game. I love Purdue, I love Mackey Arena, and even though my seats aren't as good as my boss's (can you say courtside?), I love the view I have when watching a game. It is totally worth the trip. Especially if I get to hang out with one of my nephews in the process, like I was able to the other night.

The part that sucks about going down for the game is the drive home.

Sure, it is easy. Straight up the interstate for about an hour. Just count the miles between the exit numbers, wave good-bye to the windmills and hello to desolate, open farm fields. (Am I the only one in the world who knows exits on the interstate by their number? I mean, my parent's exit is 175, my friends is 178, mine is 249. There is 74 miles between my exit and my parents, and 2 miles between my exit and the first one I come to after I get on, then 7 miles until the next one. Doesn't everyone do this??)

After the red blinking lights at the top of the windmills faded in the distance, I noticed how windy it was. It had been windy on my way down, but I was way too focused on what time I would get there and where I would park to worry about much else. Oh, and keeping the car on the road.

But on the way home, the adrenaline from the win was wearing off, and as I occasionally cross the white line between me and the median I wondered what would happen if something happened to me. And, as always, my mind drifted to what would happen if I got home and something had happened to Workaholic or the girls.

The mind, it is a weird place. I rarely obsess or worry about if I died, how would my family continue without me. Or how would Sam and Charlie turn out as adults. Maybe it is because of that weird thing where I think nothing bad happens to me.  Or maybe I just assume that they would be OK. That they would be fine without me, as long as they had each other. 

What I do "obsess" over is if something happens to someone I love. If Workaholic dies in a car crash on his way to work, how would I react? Would I sell the house? Of course I would...I can't afford it on my own. But how would I get it in shape to sell? Would I stay in the town where I live or would I move back to my hometown? Would I find someplace to bury him in a plain pine coffin like he wants? Hopefully. How long would it take for the realization that he isn't coming back to hit me? Would I be able to work? How much time would work give me to grieve?

I am all about the stupid, minute details.

In a terribly shocking way, my mind drifts to how I would react if something happened to one of my girls. Which one would it be? Would I react differently? Would I be that mom on TV shows that drops to the floor sobbing? Would I just stand there? Would I talk at her funeral? I start to think of what I would say...and then I force myself to stop. Stop thinking like that. WHO THINKS LIKE THAT? And then I start thinking again...

Would I react differently if it was Sam or Charlie? Would I quit my job? How would I get through it? What would go through my mind? And immediately I know...regret.

Regret that I didn't spend enough time with them. Regret that I didn't teach them as much as their little sponge brains could absorb. Regret that I yelled too much or didn't read Charlie enough books. Regret that we would never get to have breakfast with the princesses at Disney World. Or teach them how to ski, or surf, or hit a softball. 

I shake my head and turn up the radio.

Taylor Swift pulls me out of my funk, and before I know it, I am singing "Dear John" and "Mean" as I exit at mile 249. 

I forget about the thoughts until I have another quiet moment, but then I don't let them take over. 

Am I the only one who does this?

Who else thinks of the stupid details if one of her loved ones dies?  

As I write this, Charlie's hour long temper tantrum ended and I put her to bed, with less than one book. It was all she would allow. Sam is watching videos of someone singing the alphabet on You Tube.

I'll just try not to think again for the rest of the night.

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?

Between Here and There

A few weeks ago, I wanted to show you all this picture.

It is a tree down the street I drive every day. The photo wasn't perfect, and I couldn't per-fect it, so I decided not to write this post.

This post about fall. Fall. The season where the leaves fall off the trees, after they change colors. (at least that is what I am teaching Sam)

This tree is one of the first to change every year. For about a week, or less, it is a brilliant shade of yellow. So beautiful. For that week, I drive past that tree twice a day and want to smile. Sometime I do, and sometimes I don't.  

Because then all the leaves fall. And just like that, it is ugly.

Every year, I am torn between whether or not I like fall. Because it means that winter is coming. Snow. Cold. Dark dreary days that never end, but never really begin because there is so little daylight.

But there is beauty, like the tree down the street. And the others that follow, turning brilliant shades of red and orange and yellow, before blowing away in a cool autumn breeze. Or, as was the case this year, wind gusts reaching 60mph.

I am trying to like fall this year, trying to remember the happy parts of winter. SNOW!!! (maybe we'll get another Snowpocalypse!) Snowmobiling, dogs frolicking in the snow, fires, french onion soup, quiet and peaceful weekends at the lake, and family time on Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Then there are the stress of the holidays, the inevitable weight gain, crappy driving conditions, coats coats and more coats, wiping wet dog paws every time they go in and out, picking ice out of dog paws every time they go in and out, slush, Christmas shopping at the mall (not if I can help it!), and the longevity of winter. It is just. so. long.

So I took this picture, a perfect example of fall and winter. Brilliant colors with dark, dismal, bare branches. Is it spring yet? 

Strange Phone Call

Me: "Hi Workaholic, are you busy?"

Him: "No."

Me: "Sam just told me that you are coming home from work in 2 hours, does she know something I don't know?"

Him: "Let me call you back, I just got busy."

I'm Just Trying to Help

Since K is leaving us in May, we are on the hunt for a new nanny for the girls. We've had some good applicants, and then, well...there are some others. Below is a helpful list of what NOT to say if you are applying for a job with a family.

• If the title of the job is "Live-In Nanny" or "Live-Out Nanny", please do not respond and say, "It sounds like a perfect job for me, except for the Live-in/Live-out part. There is a reason that is the TITLE OF THE JOB.
• The proper spelling of the shortened version of advertisement is "ad". Not add. ADD is a form of developmental disorder.
• If you are a smoker, don't apply for a nanny job that states only non-smokers should apply.
• Don't apply for a live-in position if you have your own kids, that you want to bring with you. Enough said.
• Use punctuation. And spell check. And proper grammer. i.e. YOUR is not spelled ur. I am is not abbreviated im. The beginning of every sentence should start with a capital letter.
• Don't offer childcare in your home if the ad specifically states an in-home nanny is desired. The parents have probably looked into daycare before, and prefer not to have to drag their kids out of bed in the morning and get them ready to take them to someone else's house.
• Do NOT complain about your current job when responding to an ad. You come across as whiny.
• Do not tell me about your physical ailments when I am asking you to care for two children under the age of two. If you have a back problem you feel is necessary to tell me about, then this job may not be for you.

Thanks, and you are welcome.

Yep, I'm Venting Again

I've written before about how I don't handle change well. Change translates to stress, and I don't do that well either. My mom says I come by it honestly, as my dad tends to freak out when things go the way of the unexpected.

What I didn't realize, and learned this morning by a nice (virtual) slap in the face, is that I also don't like changes to my routine. At all. Unless they are on my terms. 

For whatever reason, Sam woke up around 4am crying for daddy. So of course, I woke him up. (what else was I supposed to do?) So you know what he does? Brings her in bed with us. Let me explain that we do not co-sleep. I don't even want to begin the process of my kids crawling in bed with us at all hours of the night. Because, as I have written about before, I need my sleep.

And within 30 seconds of Sam falling back asleep in our bed, Workaholics alarm goes off. So he gets up, and leaves Sam in my bed. How exactly am I supposed to get ready if I am tiptoeing around a 2 year old, trying to not wake her so she'll sleep until 9am??

I get up and feed the dogs, and at this point I usually walk them. However, I am not comfortable leaving Sam free to roam the house should she wake up. (she normally is still in a crib) I ask Workaholic if he'll stay until I get back from my walk and am promptly shot down. He needs to get to work.

So I say screw it, and take the walk anyway. Fuming the whole way, pissed off that Fonz is wandering into my neighbors' backyards, and pissed off that Kale has decided that he must try to eat every earthworm on the sidewalk. (Did I mention it has rained for days? Which means that every earthworm in the ground has decided to die on the sidewalk?) Do you know how disgusting it is to see a black 10 week old puppy look up at you when you call his name with a worm dangling from his snout? Vomit. I am also pissed that he doesn't seem to want to walk on a leash; as it is totally realistic that I expect a 10 week old puppy to heel perfectly at my side.

I got home, got in the shower, and have managed to make it to my office in the basement without waking the kids. So all of my freaking out was for no good reason. I don't know why I haven't learned by now that my freaking out is generally for no good reason.

I am getting a massage today. All I can say is that I can. not. wait.

Random Thoughts

I was so worried about getting a post out introducing Kale, that I haven't really written anything much lately. This is what I have been thinking.

Xanex fixes everything. Can't sleep? Xanex. Nervous about a test? Xanex. Want to beat your child/dog/mother/boss? Xanex. See? It fixes everything.

Why does everyone love puppy breath? It is disgusting. I don't understand why everyone goes gaga over it.

I never thought I would be THAT person who was addicted to their smart phone. Yeah, I was wrong.

Kale was NOT the first name I considered for my our new puppy. Some other options were Kade, Kai, Angus, Harry, and Clyde. I think that Workaholic has decided to call him Clyde, which means Sam will too. Great.

K is leaving us in a month. We do not yet have a replacement for her. And yet I am not panicking. This is what I keep telling myself. Everything WILL work out.

I think when Workaholic blew up the TV, he also blew up my adding machine, my shredder, and my space heater. Which, ironically, I think is what caused the TV to blow up. I miss my space heater.

Am I the only one who has lived in a house for less than 6 years and needed to entirely repaint it? Yes? Oh.

I tend to judge people on their landscaping. Like, if it is totally out of control and overgrown, I think, "Wow, those people really should work on their landscaping. What is wrong with them?" And then I look at my yard, and think, "Uh, oops."

I haven't finished my taxes yet. Yes, I am a dumbass.

I play Wordfeud regularly on my phone. And yes, I cheat. Deal with it.

I am wondering if I should be concerned that I don't know where Clyde is right now. Oh shit...

My Advice to Kids

Now that I have two kids, I look back at my younger days and think, "Oh shit, if they do anything that I did they are going to wind up in jail." It seems that kids nowadays just can't do anything without getting caught. If they are smart enough to avoid the authorities while doing said stupid shit, they are stupid enough to video it and post it on youtube.

I found this post via Twitter, and had to share it, as well as create my own list. Because I like lists. If you are too lazy to click over, it is life lessons that my all kids need to know.

***Umm...mom? You might want to stop reading now.

1) Taking a Aleve Cold & Sinus and washing it down with a vodka and 7 is not a good idea. It WILL give you a hangover and you will NOT remember what you did that night the next morning. Including but not limited to... how you got home the night before, if you did actually throw up outside the bar, and if you finally told off that ugly chick who always took your seat when you went to pee.

2) Going to a Halloween party as a cop and then waving a pretend gun around in the air is a surefire way to get the police called. And end the party.

3) Speaking of Halloween parties, if you go dressed as a slutty Catholic school girl, people will treat you as though you are a slutty Catholic school girl.

4) When someone stops you on the street and asks you if you have been saved, just say yes. And then run.

5) Learn how to drive a stick shift car and a moped, you never know when this will come in handy.

6) If you tell someone that you are going to put them on a list for a party, PUT THEM ON THE LIST.

7) When someone tells you that you need to stop talking, STOP. You will not "get your point across" if you keep talking.

8) Do not lie to a police officer if he asks if you've been drinking. He knows you have.

9) If you come across a bum fight where they are arguing over whose glass bottles are whose, don't try to step in and "get everyone to calm down."

10) Don't be afraid to read the instructions. That is what they are there for. This includes but is not limited to...tampons, the pill, and condoms. The latter two you will not need until you are out of my house and in college. Not either or...but both.

I hope my girls take my advice to heart...once they are old enough to understand. And only when they are old enough to understand.

PS...I asked a friend for her one thing she'd tell her kids. She said, "Don't get herpes, it doesn't go away." That works on so. many. levels.

Random Tidbits About My Life

I have realized that it has been entirely too long since I have written anything down, so today you will get a post full of my random thoughts. Which I supposed is what this here space is supposed to be.

Last night I was tired, like...dead tired. I think my bed is trying to kill me, but that is another post for another time. Anyway, I was laying on the bed, attempting to change the channel without moving my fingers, and Sam walks up to me. She gingerly placed her soft little hand on my cheek, looked me right in the eyes, and said, "Mommy, I horny."

Outfit courtesy of Matt's uncle and his wife, who spend part of their time in Hong Kong.

I took the girls to the doctor yesterday. It was Sam's 2 year check-up (a month late) and Charlie's 6 month check-up. Poor kid had to get shots. (Wait...poor me, since she was up 3 times screaming at me last night.) Anyway, here are their stats.

Samantha: 33 1/2 inches tall-30th percentile; 23 1/2 lbs-10th percentile

Charlotte: 26 1/2 inches tall-76th percentile; 17 1/2 lbs-75th percentile

I am hoping that neither one of them is a wuss, because as soon as Charlie catches up with Sam, there could be some serious ass-kicking going on in my house.

Sampson LOVES Fonz. Every opportunity he gets, he rubs on his face, lays by him, or generally tries to cuddle. Last night, Fonz had it and snapped at Sampson. I was proud of him for standing up to himself. And then annoyed because Sampson wanted to sleep right next to me all night. Which is not helpful for tossing and turning.

Why did you bring this thing into our house??

I guess I could complain about my mattress now. It hurts me. My back, my neck, generally my whole body aches from the time I lay down on it to after my shower in the morning. And I LOVE laying in bed, so you see the problem. I think the solution is a new mattress, and I think the new mattress needs to be a Tempur-Pedic. Everyone who has one raves about them. But considering they are over three grand, a new mattress may have to come in another lifetime.

Speaking of my body, I have that belly fat that many moms get...that squishy fat roll that doesn't go away without at least a little bit of effort, and I have put absolutely no effort into making it go away, in fact, I probably have put more effort into making it worse. So I love to squish the squishiness, and Sam sees me do this, and the other day, she came up to me and pushed on it a few times, looked up at me, giggled and ran away. I can't wait for my mommy make-over.

Did I tell you that our snowmobile caught on fire? So yeah. Apparently bad gas (read: old gas) can get chunks in it, and those chunks get caught places, and then other places are starved of fluid or something, and then a fire ensues. The kicker of it is I haven't even ridden the damn thing this year. We hope to have it fixed for next year. Since it was almost 60 degrees yesterday and we'd have to get another blizzard for the trails to get in riding condition.

Kids say the darndest things:

Charlie was crying yesterday, and Sam looked at her and said, "Charlie, stop crying, NOW." Hmmm...I have no idea where she got that from. (daddy)

I unpacked a bunch of 6-9 month clothes for Charlie, and Sam decided to have a fashion show. She pulled on a pair of brown velour sweatpants that are capris on her, and changed into an orange long-sleeved shirt and posed in front of the mirror. After doing the turn and look over her shoulder that you see all the actresses do on the red carpet, she goes, "Awww...cute!" I'm glad my 2 year old has no self-esteem problems.

When Sam talks on the phone to whoever it is she talks to, she has some stand-by lines...

"Whaddya doin'?

"So..."

"A-hahahahaha!" (giggling)

"Umm...yeah!"

"K-bye!"

We were in the pediatrican's office yesterday and I was shocked at how the go-to toy for toddlers was a toy cell phone. Sam's, of course, looks like a Blackberry, and she not only talks on it, but texts. Way ahead of her time, that one.

Charlotte, meanwhile, is quite coming into her own. She has a very short fuse, as in..."I'm laughing and happy and today is the greatest day ever OHMYGOD GIVE ME A BOTTLE NOW!!!"

She also refuses to roll over. She can, but just will. not. do. it. She'll cry and scream and scoot across the room rather than go from her stomach to her back.

Also? She is one of those kids that everyone tells me about who gets up at the same time every morning, no matter what time they go to bed. I am having a hard time with this, as Sam sleeps 12 hours no matter what. At least she is happy in the morning, it is her best time of day. Until she gets hungry, that is.

I suppose that is enough randomness for the day.

I Miss Kate

Paige over at "Life is a Phoenix" got tagged to answer some questions, and then she made up her own questions and told us ( her readers) to answer them. And there is nothing I like more than being told to write something on my blog, so I don't have to come up with my own material, so I decided to actually follow her orders. Or suggestion, whatever.

1. Two parts of you are dueling. What parts? Who wins?

This is easy. My lazy part, the part that wants to lay in bed and watch TV, and the part that knows that I have a million and one things to do. Before I had kids, the lazy part won out. All. the. time. Now that I have kids, it doesn't win out as much anymore. In fact, my main issue with getting things done nowadays is that I forget that I have things to do until it is impossible for me to do them. Like, I am sitting at work and I remember that I need to pull out the level two nipples for Charlie's bottles. They are in the laundry room. But I can't do that while I am sitting in my cubicle. (excuse me while I go to the laundry room...as I am working from home today.)

2. Do you give inanimate objects names? Anything specific?

I usually don't do this. But there are a couple of things that do have names, and they are awesome. The first was our Tom-Tom, Kate. We named her Kate because that was the name of the voice that we chose. I think Kate was British. Anyway, you could make her say anything you wanted, and it would be triggered by something that a GPS recognizes, like a church or gas station. We once set it to say, "Hey Tyler, shut the fuck up" every time we drove past a gas station. While Tyler didn't think this was very funny, mainly because he usually WAS talking whenever we drove past a gas station, we thought it was pretty damn hilarious. There is nothing like having a Kate say what you are thinking when an 18 year old is talking about the coolest car he had ever seen.

The second thing was our printer at work. (think of the fax machine in Office Space) We got this awesome new machine about 4-5 years ago, at one of the busiest time of our company's history. At least in the accounting department. And the damn thing just couldn't keep up with us. We hated it so. One of my friends hated her mother-in-law about as much as the new machine, so we named it after her. Every once in a while, when it acts up, I still will pat it and say, "Come on Marge, you can do it." It likes to be talked to.

3. How restricted do you feel when you are blogging because you don't want to upset someone?

Let's put it this way. Just now, I debated on whether to tell you the name of our printer. Because if there is any chance that my friend's mother-in-law could find my blog, she would be upset. But I decided that probably wouldn't happen. I try not to talk shit about other people too much, because I don't think I'd like to be talked shit about. Which is why most of my posts are about myself, when I really started this blog to complain about other people. Ahh...how life evolves.

4. What do you like to read about most on other people's blogs?

One of the reasons I love Paige is because she writes about herself. She sometimes does these "random posts", where she just writes short thoughts of what is on her mind. In no particular order. I love that. I keep meaning to do it, but then the mommy-brain kicks in and I forget what I was going to write about and why. And since I am not pregnant anymore and am on happy drugs, I really don't have a whole lot to rant about. Which is kind of sad if you think about it. My rants are some of my best work. OH WAIT...the holidays are coming! I'm sure on Friday I'll have plenty to complain about.


This is the part where I am supposed to tag other people. I hate doing that. Mainly because if they choose not to participate, I feel like a loser. So, if you are reading this, and you have your own blog, answer Paige's questions! And leave your link in my comments section! Pretty please! I love learning about other people!!

Oh...By The Way

I am fully aware that, as of late, I have been a tad whiny. Maybe even a bit of a downer.

I've never been one of those glass-half-full kind of girls, and I have never handled change well.

But every time, and I mean every time, I rant or whine or complain in a post, someone out there reaches out to me.

I initially started this blog to vent about stupid shit in my world. I had to re-think that very quickly, seeing as how most of the stupid shit that happens to me happens at work, and blogging about your job is a big no-no.

The thing I love the most about blogging, other than getting things off of my chest, is the support I receive. I get comments and e-mails and phone calls from strangers and family and friends, letting me know that I am not alone.

I am not crazy.

I am not unusual.

I am OK.

The things that I think, the things that I write, others understand.

And that? Is awesome.

So in case I forget to mention it, THANK YOU. Thank you for caring. Thank you for the ideas and the encouraging words. They really do mean the world.

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.)

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.

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 naïve.

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!!

Quick Update

I’ve got so much I’d like to write about, but not much time. So I’ll just give you a quick update of my head.

Jon Gosselin…you should be ashamed of yourself. Think before you act! And while you are at it, think for yourself every once in a while.

We are leaving for London on Thursday. I am super excited, but not nearly as excited as my sister who is meeting me there. I am also super nervous about leaving Samantha for 5 days. What if she forgets about me while I am gone? Right now, I am the definite favorite in her life. I hope I’m not scarring her by abandoning her at this critical stage of her life development. (notice, that worry isn’t stopping me from going)

I spent hours this weekend cleaning and organizing my house. A partial list of everything that I put into storage is 6 bins of clothes, 2 baby bathtubs, a travel swing, a full-size swing, a bouncy seat, a Bumbo seat, 2 floor playmats, 2 file boxes full of paper that doesn’t have anything to do with me, a computer monitor, and the cradle. I also cleaned my bathroom, dusted and vacuumed the whole house, and made dinner. Important to note that the most amazing part of the weekend was the fact that I made dinner. (One thing I do not understand is how you can follow your mother’s recipe to a T and it tastes almost nothing like when she makes it. Not fair. I think it’s sabotage.)

I gave Fonz a bath and he got his teeth cleaned on Friday…so until he starts eating the poo from the backyard again, his breath no longer smells like shit!! AND, he smells like Suave Ocean Breeze. However, he does have an ear infection, so he’s got that goopy ear fur. Yucky.

I don’t understand for the life of me how on God’s Green Earth Purdue lost for the 2nd weekend in a row in the 4th quarter, on the 4th down, with less than 30 seconds left. (apparently someone else does though) Maybe in a couple of years we’ll win a game. Such goes the life of a Cubs/Boiler fan.

Have a great week everyone!