My Longest Year

And That's That

2008-04-17T19:37:00.001-04:00

The husband has been home for two weeks. We've hit some bumpy patches already, but we're adjusting pretty well after those 444 days apart. The kid loves him, I love him, it's all good.

Amazingly, the kid has survived her first year. She's officially a walking, talking one year old now. I know time wouldn't have flown by the way it feels like it did, had I not had her.

I had a big, dramatic farewell to My Longest Year speech planned, but it's been a long day. So, I'll just say that if you want to find me from here on out, I'll be over here.

See ya there!

Slacker!

2008-04-16T00:48:00.002-04:00

Yes, I am. I suck. I know.

Everyone came on over a few posts back and here I've dropped the ball on wining and dining you all to keep you around.

I do have an excuse though . . . besides the obvious, of course . . .

We're moving!

Well, not we as in real life me. The only things getting packed up are in the bloggy world. My longest year is over, so it's time to move on to a happier place. Or, at least, it should be a happier place. We shall see.

So, get your blogrolls and readers ready (unless, of course, you could care less and would be happy to see this blog covered in cobwebs). I'll be back on Thursday to give a grand tour of the new digs. There's still some construction and painting going on, so you can't come over just yet.

Welcome Back, Boys!

2008-04-13T18:04:00.006-04:00

Last night was the first of many single soldier gathering at the Longest Year household. I cooked an awesome meal (Jayna's Hungarian shrimp and pasta and fried tomatoes) and our guests brought the drinks and dessert. Let me just say that wine, 21 year old scotch and ice cream cake don't mix so very well. (Though, ice cream cake is awesome for breakfast the next day.) The kid was amazing and flirted with all the boys during dinner, and then passed right out and slept through the din of 5 drunken soldiers telling war stories in the kitchen. She's awesome, even though she did wake us up at 5:30 this morning.

Yesterday the husband also picked up our brand new bicycles and broke his in by doing drunken wheelies up and down our street at 11 at night. I spent the majority of the time yelling "Car!" and shaking my head as the husband wiped out in the neighbor's front lawn (yes, we are those neighbors. PWT hooligans, all the way). Each of our guests also got a turn, as it's only proper to share, and they didn't disappoint in the stupidity either. Only on his bike, though. Not mine. I don't share that well.

I'm loving the husband being home, and loving the friends he is bringing over. It's nice to be at ease with a group of guys and feel perfectly comfortable ripping on them just as hard as I would on the husband.

Just Gut the Place

2008-04-11T22:04:00.003-04:00

Mold problem? Still got it.

Sopping wet puddle under the carpet in the garage room? Still there.

Daily quota of at least 5 roaches maimed? My aim is getting a lot better.

Broken dishwasher? Oh, that's a new one.

Oven that doesn't heat up? Even better.

If I wasn't so sick of moving (and if I hadn't just given away all our packing boxes), I would be getting all legal-ish on their asses and moving far, far away from this dump.

We seriously thought we were getting somewhere. Monday started off with a series of phone calls and ended with the promise of an exterminator and a handyman. Here, it's Friday and the only thing the maintenance guy has managed to do was wander across my clean kitchen floor, scuff dirt everywhere, shut the dishwasher and turn it on. And then leave. I wasn't home when he came (of course, they have a radar for that, the only time I've left the house all week). I found the dishwasher still locked shut and on the drying cycle. The friggin' idiot obviously didn't even look inside and see that there is a giant broken piece on the bottom and it's full of water. Plus, we were using it as a drying rack, so things got thrown all helter skelter and a bunch of sippy cup lids got burned up by the heating element. Those things are like gold lately around here, so that man is lucky he wasn't here for me to go off on about it.

My skin is always crawling, I'm ridiculously paranoid about the kid eating a roach, I can't use my damn oven, and I'm sick of worrying that we're going to get sick from the mold.

If I could stomach it, all the carcasses of this weekend's vermin murders would be stuck in a jar and slammed down on someone's desk Monday morning.

The husband can't do it, cause he screams like a little girl and runs away from the bastards. (Yes, I like to keep reminding everyone of that.)

Way Late Wordless Wednesday - Fast Friends

2008-04-09T21:38:00.001-04:00

Have I Got A Story For You

2008-04-07T21:40:00.004-04:00

I might as well jump right on back into the blog with a giant splash. A great alternative title to this one would be The Bedroom Chronicles.

Why, yes, there will be talk of sex. Hide the children.

So. Yeah. Obviously, it's been a wicked long time since the husband was home last, and obviously it's been that long since I've had sex . . . So, obviously, birth control was the last thing on my mind until recently. Before I left Ohio, I paid a visit to the obgyn and got fitted for a diaphragm. I said good riddance to hormonal birth control long ago, and this seemed like a good option. I filled my prescription, packed it away in a box and didn't have a second thought about it.

And then, all of a sudden, homecoming rolled around. Huh. Imagine that. There we were, baby fast asleep ("Okay, sweetie, hurry up and go to bed early tonight, Mommy's gotta get laid!"), and the unopened diaphragm box sitting on the bed between us. The directions for this thing were like a phone book. The odds of failure were daunting. The entire situation was nothing but clinical. ("Yeah baby, welcome home. Now read these directions.")

In the end, alternative measures were taken and we had a lovely time. Or, as lovely as is to be expected after that experience and in light of what happened next.

Again, I obviously hadn't had sex recently, so I was completely unaware as to the wonderful side effects of breastfeeding.

Yes, those of you who have been there and done that and know exactly what I'm talking about can laugh at me now.

In my defense, it was really hot in our room. So, I don't think I was all that far off when I started thinking to myself that the husband was really sweating. A lot. Like, massive amounts. I made a mental note to rip on him afterwards. But, he got me first. Basking in that afterglow, he turned to me and said "You leaked all over me!"

Allllll over. I'm surprised he didn't drown in the puddle that was on the bed.

I could totally do without that lovely bodily function.

At least he thought it was funny.

Not nearly as funny as what happened the next morning though . . .

Being the wonderful husband he is, he took the child out to the living room to play while I slept for another few minutes. I woke up and rolled out of bed. As I turned around to grab something off the night stand I saw something that makes me still want to throw up a little whenever I think about it.

Crawling out from under my pillow . . . giant, brown, filthy, nasty . . . a three inch long cockroach.

I screamed so loud that instantly the baby started cry and the husband came running. They found me jumping around like a manic trying to smash that bastard bug with a toilet paper roll.

I'm ashamed to say he got away. Hopefully he found some tasty roach bait and is dead in a corner somewhere tonight. If he's not, he will be, because we've finally got the exterminators coming out. This horrible excuse for a livable rental house is driving me insane, and that is just the first step in not having my skin crawl just by sitting on the couch. Bastards are all going to die!

And that, my friends, is The Bedroom Chronicles.

A Quickie

2008-04-04T08:23:00.002-04:00

While the two of them are dancing around the living room to Jimi Hendrix . . .

Here We Go!!!

2008-04-03T09:56:00.002-04:00

The New Checklist

2008-04-02T23:15:00.003-04:00

Sudafed - check

Thermometer - check

Tissues - check, check, triple check

Clothes shoved into a basket in the corner of the closet instead of put away - check

Top Chef and a comfy couch - check

A pre-warned husband that his wife may snot all over him tomorrow - check

And, I lost a shoe in the move. And now have no shoes to go with my smokin' hot dress.

Enough is enough already!!!

(And really, don't anyone worry. I'm not going anywhere any time soon. I'm plenty capable of posting while showering my husband with attention. Or, making him think I am.)

May I Pee Myself Now?

2008-04-02T00:31:00.002-04:00

Car window chalk - check

Posterboard - check

Markers - check

Adorable baby girl dress and sandals - check

Smoking hot mommy dress and heels - check

Meat thawed in fridge - check

Clean sheets, fresh towels, comfy clothes - check

Birth control - check
(hey, he's gotta start with this one first before we work on that second one)

Nervous energy, lack of bladder control, loss of appetite - check

Gah! I have no idea how I'm going to make it all the way though tomorrow and the next morning without exploding!

It's about damn time I started getting excited about this.

I Did Promise Pictures

2008-03-31T19:36:00.007-04:00

She has finally gotten settled after the 2 days of driving, two nights in hotels, being passed like a hot potato from grandparent to grandparent, teething some molars, and being in a strange new house. Her room is absolutely huge and the daily goal seems to be to cover the entire surface of the floor with toys. Clearly she has enough toys when that is possible.

Now, as for the house . . . real pictures are just going to have to wait, as I've been a tad bit busy dealing with the fact that it's an absolute shithole. Hindsight is 20/20 and I am kicking my own ass about being too freaking cheap to come down here and check it out before hand. Of course, I probably would have never seen the most major of the problems then anyways.

So far, a few things have been resolved. There are no more spiders, and I've only maimed an occasional roach. I now have hot water, heat and air conditioning. We installed a screen for the sliding door and got a few temporary window screens, so I can open the place up. The leaking washer hook-up has been replaced. The ripped and torn and lint spewing dryer vent pipe has been replaced. And it's become an overall clean place to stay. However . . .

There is a huge ass leak in the wall behind the kitchen, mold in the kitchen cabinets, and a puddle under the carpet in the spare room, which used to be the garage.

That's a bit of an issue.

We found the mold and leak through a bit of a process. I went to go clean my bottom shelves and lo and behold, they were bending and disintegrating at the slightest touch. We decided to rip them out and stick some plywood in there so that they were at least a little bit usable. Turns out, there was a surprise underneath there.

Before

During

After clean up

Appetizing, isn't it?

All of my kitchen stuff is still in boxes, as I obviously have no where to put it. That, and I have a little nagging voice in the back of my head telling me this is bad, really bad, and we're going to have to get the heck outta here and move to a non mold infested place.

Is it bad that I just ate an entire chocolate bunny today, which I was saving for the husband?

And Here I Sit

2008-03-27T20:26:00.002-04:00

A cat-hiding rule breaker in a completely dark and quiet room. The only light is from the computer, and the only sound is the snoring baby . . . and the keyboard . . . and the dumbass meowing cats . . . and the fucking crickets . . . and the trucks roaring by on the highway.

Here I sit, in a Holiday Inn. After two days of driving and wanting to throw my stepmother out the window. Two days of listening to endless nagging about just taking the kid out of her car seat to feed her, and about just turning her car seat around because her feet touch the seat back (if I have to explain about internal decapitation one more time . . .).

In the past two days I have dealt with:
~Being expected to drive all night with the kid and then be coherant enough to take care of her the next day.
~Truckers. Obnoxious truckers driving side-by-side at 50 miles an hour for 40 miles.
~Parental units. You want mine? Take them. They're all yours. I'll throw in the father-in-law as a freebie.
~Extracting three cats from their hiding spots under the hotel bed you thought they couldn't get under. Only accomplished by literally removing the mattress and bedsprings.
~A nursing strike. You want pain? Try having your kid go from nursing 7 times a day to 2.
~Milk. Exploding. Everywhere. (Since the child wouldn't nurse, we had to do the sippy. After setting a container of the frozen stuff on the dash to thaw during lunch, we came back to find puddles of milk everywhere. Thank God I had it far enough away from the vents.)
~General loosing of my mind. I'll thank all involved parties for this one.
~The House. This one gets a post of it's own, preferably accompanied by pictures. I'll give you a teaser though . . . hundreds of dead spiders, live roaches, 20+ year old appliances, ceiling so dirty you could write your name on it (if you could reach it), and a surprise diagnosis of having gas heat instead of electric. Which, of course, needs to be serviced and hooked up properly. And, of course, isn't going to happen in any timely matter.

Hence, the hotel.

I'll be back after some harsh words with the rental company, an appointment with a steam cleaner, and a few hard drinks.

If Anyone Needs Me

2008-03-26T00:14:00.002-04:00

I'll be in the nearest mental institution.

See you all in 800 miles.

The Box Is Waiting

2008-03-20T23:21:00.006-04:00

I was accused yesterday by the husband of being a pack rat. He elaborated to say that, no, I am just a pack rat for boxes. Which I fully admit, and have no shame. You know why?

Because my nearly new, absolutely perfect, dearly beloved iMac will be riding in style in it's original box. And I will be a hell of a lot calmer about sticking it underneath 5 tons of cat and kid stuff in the back of my car.

So, in the box it goes. Tomorrow.

I've got butterflies kick-boxing me in my stomach lately.

Tomorrow, E, the cats, and I will head off to my mom's for a few days. The trailer is getting loaded on Saturday, and the wagon train is kicking off on Wednesday.

Here come the Yankees!!

So, being that all my pictures are on this computer, and I'll be slumming it on my mother's HP after this . . . I give you E's Easter pictures. Or, at least, the four I felt like editing.

Stand Back, I Am Not A Professional

2008-03-20T01:04:00.002-04:00

At one point during this week, I thought it would be fun to photograph my progress in boxing up our life again. Show everyone the mass confusion and jungle gym free-for-all in my living room.

But somewhere along the way, I packed the camera charger.

Bugger.

Instead, I'll just rant about how much stuff we have. Good lord, do we have a lot of crap. I remember moving in to our apartment in Texas (three moves ago) and having one of M's friends marvel at how many boxes there were.

That was nothing.

Add in the three bedroom house we had to fill, and then a kid. No wonder I can't see across the room anymore. Thankfully though, it seems to be an even split between me and the husband for contribution. Gone are the days when all of his worldly possessions fit into one Rubbermaid tote. (Thank you, Army)

I am making things a little more fun this time though. Instead of neatly labeling every box and trying to keep things together, it's all randomness. I was sorting out sections of light, medium, heavy and holy shit heavy earlier and saw I hadn't labeled anything I packed yesterday. So, it will be like a giant treasure hunt in the new house, opening every box to find one thing.

Though, that could make unpacking go a lot quicker.

11 Months Old

2008-03-17T23:03:00.003-04:00

For once I'm hitting the monthly milestone on the right day. The kid is 11 months old. Climbing everything - couches, chairs, boxes, baby gates, over dogs, bathtub sides, toilets, window sills. It won't be long before I find her swinging from the chandelier. She is growing into a little replica of her daddy, constant chatter, snuggle bum, and a lover of all things involving uncontrollable laughter. She says "neigh" for horses, "meow" for cats and just laughs at the dogs. I'm waiting for the day when she actually tells me off when I take away the paper she has shoved in her mouth, instead of screaming "BAH BAH BAH!" at me. (We all know she really means "Hey! Stupid $%*#@! Gimme my %$#@%*% paper back!!")

If You Don't Have Stairs

2008-03-17T00:59:00.004-04:00

Make your own!

This is what happens and makes one realize that it's no longer safe to go pee by yourself.

This Is A New One

2008-03-14T01:27:00.002-04:00

Four moves in three years, and I've learned a lot of valuable tidbits of information along the way. Such as:

~If something is painted blue, it will rub on your couch in the one spot that isn't covered.
~Fishtanks break. Especially when the elevator door closes on them.
~Nothing ever goes back together again the same way. That desk will always wobble and that chair will always creak.
~Sleeper sofas are a bitch to get up and down three flights of stairs.
~Never, ever throw away a box. Otherwise you'll be wishing you still had what that table/microwave/sewing machine came in.
~Flirt with the box boys at the grocery store and those egg boxes are all yours.
~Putting the screws to every unassembled piece of furniture in one bag is a really, really bad idea.
~Rubbermaid totes are not meant to be filled with textbooks. Nor are they meant to be so full even duct tape won't hold.
~Do not pack the toilet paper. Last thing in, first thing out.
~9 months pregnant really is a great time to move. Telling other people where to put those boxes is a lot more fun than carrying them.
~It's never to early to start packing. Heck, why unpack? Keep half your stuff in boxes, ready to go!

But, the most valuable thing I learned while packing today? Do not try to pack up an 11 month old's room while they are with you. Book in the box, book out of the box. Dress in the box, dress out of the box. Stuffies in the box, screaming tantrum from the child. More toys in the box, absolutely livid child. Child in the box, much more fun.

It doesn't help that she's still in the stage where gnawing off chunks of the cardboard is appealing. I got bit more times than I could count, while fishing out soggy bits and pieces.

Wordless Wednesday - Which One of These Things is Not Like the Other?

2008-03-12T01:29:00.002-04:00

It Always Ends The Same Way

2008-03-09T23:10:00.011-04:00

There's no fooling this kid. She knows where she belongs - playing on a pile of sand, not snow. Forget this cold crap!

We spent the weekend at grandma's again (trying to fill up the guilt-o-meter for when I move away. Again.) and from Saturday morning to early Sunday morning, we got 24 inches of snow. It was gorgeous . . . for about 5 minutes. That crap was heavy as all get out, and I about busted my ass trying to shovel out my car this morning. I settled for digging a path to get in it and then dropping it into 4-wheel to get over the snow bank in front of it.

Everything was shut down, of course. Even the Pancake Breakfast at the local high school. That, my friends, is disappointment. Digging yourself out of a snowbound house, warming the car up, braving the roads, and finding the parking lot absolutely deserted. Obviously, we aren't the sharpest tools in the shed, not realizing that if most of the churches in the area were canceling services, that a measly pancake breakfast wasn't going to happen.

So, we went over to my grandma's, where I busted my ass again digging a path to her door. There are two lazy, good for nothing (grown men) cousins that live within a mile and we're the ones that have to dig her out. Lazy asses.

Eventually we made it back to my mom's house and I figured that this was an event that should not be missed by the child. We bundled her up and tossed her out in the cold for some pictures.

Fantabulous

2008-03-06T23:01:00.003-05:00

10 1/2 months later and we've got our first fever.

I'm such a loving and caring mommy that I just couldn't help but pass on the sickness to the child. Poor thing is miserable and has already been up four times since I put her to bed.

It's gonna be a fun night.

You Know It's Above 40

2008-03-04T19:33:00.004-05:00

There's a yearly phenomenon that occurs here in Northern Ohio. It commonly affects high school and college students. Common sense stands no chance. As soon as the temperature hits 40 . . .

They forget to put their pants on.

Yesterday, it hit 56 degrees. Spring! Spring! Spring! Despite the inability to go more than 2 minutes without sniffling and feeling like my head was going to explode, I took the kid out for a walk at the Metroparks. As I strolled along, I was lapped by scantily clad girls sporting fake n' bake legs and asses I would have even been jealous of 10 years ago.

Bitter, party of one, your table is ready.

Is it wrong to hope that those freshman 15 hit hard?

Anyways, I got over myself and came to terms with the perma-jiggle going on with my own rear end. (Not running anymore is killing me. But given the fact that I feel 90, clutching my aching back, it's clear that I haven't healed nearly enough, even after four months.) I huffed and puffed and hauled the stroller up the gigantic hill, stopped to give the kid some freedom and a biscuit, and then headed back to the car. I was almost there, and had put my camera away already. And then. I saw her.

**Accept my sincerest apologies for not have a picture of this chick. But, I was too busy double-taking and scratching my head to dig it out fast enough.**

Bouncy blond ponytail. Orange glow tan. Lime green sports bra. White belly tank. Sparkling clean running shoes. And . . . wait for it . . . men's briefs. That's right. Men's briefs. So skin tight that the front opening was gaping. Thank God she was wearing underwear.

It was just wrong on so many levels.

"Hey! Put your pants back on!"

Pass the Tissues, Please

2008-03-03T00:48:00.003-05:00

If anyone needs to find me, I'll be on the floor of my room, wrapped around my humidifier, amongst a field of Kleenex.

Tonight, in a fever induced haze, I did something extremely rare. I cleaned out the catch-all drawer of the kitchen. Among the five million batteries, pens, screws and keys to all the past places we've lived, I stumbled across the most excellent discovery of all time. Vick's drops for a humidifier. Absolutely awesome. My room is like a menthol rain forest right now.

Oddly enough, I've never seen these things before, can't find them on the internet anywhere, and am convinced this will be a one-time experience. Which is a shame, because I can already feel the snot starting to flow.

Hallelujah, I can breathe again!

Eh? What'd You Say?

2008-02-29T18:38:00.002-05:00

Please tell me the screaming and screeching phase doesn't last long.

What?

What was that?

Speak up, I can't hear you!

Seriously, I'm surprised the husband's ear drums didn't shatter tonight when we were on the phone and E decided to climb up me and shriek right next to it every five seconds. My head is pounding and my ears are still ringing. I'm coming down with something involving a fever, chills and a sore throat, so the patience level was non-existent by the time the kid was deposited in her lid-less cage for the night. Thankfully, it's the weekend and there are five unsuspecting grandparents to pawn her off on.

Although, this is an excellent payback for the drum set next door. In fact, we hung out on that side of the apartment most of the day.

Dear Bicor VX1005

2008-02-29T11:23:00.003-05:00

I hate you.

Yes, hate is a strong word, but I feel you truly deserve it. You are a sorry excuse for a sewing machine, dropping stitches, breaking needles, jamming the bobbin and switching tension when ever you want. It is completely unacceptable to cause me to stop and fix something every six inches, and to turn a two hour project into five.

In case my point was not made clear by the repeated obscenities and banging on the table, you're on very thin ice here. If it hadn't been one in the morning and ten degrees outside, you can be sure that the dumpster would be your new home. And dumpsters are very lonely, cold places.

I expect that we'll have a better relationship tonight. Otherwise . . . well, it's sayonara. Because I have 20 yards of fabric that aren't going to sew themselves.

That Moment of Wild Panic

2008-02-27T18:54:00.003-05:00

Catching up on my Google Reader this morning, I did my usual quick skim, half-attention catch up. As I scrolled down through the latest post by Ask And Ye Shall Receive, my name jumped out. (Actually, it was more like it reached through the monitor and smacked me upside the head.)

So, I backed that page up and started really reading, while the little commentary played in my head.

"Oh, shit!

I'm not ready for this.

Crap, this is gonna hurt.

Where was my A-game?

Oh, what A-game? I never had any A-game.

Snark! There's no snark! They'll hate it!

Oh.

Wait.

Shit! She doesn't hate it!"

Thank you Calamity, for not tearing me apart. And for acknowledging something very near and dear to my heart - punctuation. (A red pen and some time alone with a piece of writing is what I call a hot date).

Final rating:

To read the full review, go here: Baby Mix Me A Drink

Don't Think, It Might Hurt

2008-02-26T19:28:00.003-05:00

It's crunch time. The southbound wagon train leaves in one month. So, I think it's perfectly justifiable that I have been slightly panicky about finding somewhere to live for the past few months. The rental market in the low country is brutal, unless you have your very own magic money tree and can rent one of the brand new luxury homes popping up everywhere. We don't. The only thing the foliage around here produces is a mess for me to clean up.

I found an adorable little house in a perfect location for a price so low that it's probably built on haunted burial grounds or something. Nothing we can't live with. I'm cheap, so four walls, all the major appliances and new carpet is about all it takes to sell me on something. I got a little giddy when I saw the double basin sink in the kitchen, though.

After almost a week of waiting to find out if our application had been approved or not, I started nagging the rental company. Turns out, it wasn't a case of southern style business practices and they were actually on top of things. It was my current apartment manager that was holding everything up. So, I marched myself down there through 10 inches of fresh snow and a raging blizzard. (Okay, so it wasn't quite raging, and the path was pure slush, but still).

Me: "Hi, my name is Jayna and there is a rental company in Georgia that has been contacting you about a referral for us."

Clueless Chick #1: "Uh-huh."

Me: "I need to know the status on that, as it's very important that it be sent back as soon as possible."

Clueless Chick #2: "Dee (actual apartment manager) just got back from vacation last week."

Me: "Uh-huh. So?"

Clueless Chick #1: "She's very busy. It might take a while for her to get caught up on everything that has piled up." (She gestures to a stack of filing boxes, which has only one thing in it. Suspiciously, it looks like a referral form.)

Me: "Uh-huh. So, how long do you think it's going to take, as she's already had it a week now."

Clueless Chick #2: "Maybe another couple of weeks."

Me, trying not to laugh: "Weeks? It's seriously going to take weeks to fill out one sheet of paper and fax it?"

Clueless Chick #2: "Well, she's really behind. You should have asked for this a lot farther in advance. It always takes a long time. It's not our fault you didn't plan ahead."

Me: " . . . "

*crickets*

*death stare*

*flaming daggers*

Dee (walking into the office): "Hey Jayna! How's that adorable baby? Oh! I sent your referral this morning, did you want a copy of it?"

*sound of heels clacking as Clueless #1 and #2 scatter*

A Captive's Story

2008-02-25T01:30:00.007-05:00

"Hey! I can't get this open. What's the deal here?"

"Dude, seriously? We're stuck in here at the big people's mercy?"

"Ahhhhhh! Noooooo! Let us out!!!"

"We're all going to starve! We'll have to eat paper!"

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!"

**I am seriously pissed at myself for cutting off her head in that last picture, cause that one is just priceless**

The Pumpkin is Home

2008-02-23T23:26:00.002-05:00

Or, would I not be a pumpkin yet, since I made it in before midnight?

I haven't been out of my apartment after dark, other than a jaunt downstairs to the car, in months. Seriously. Months. The kid goes to sleep by 6pm, which means dinner is at 5, which means I'm usually home by then. So, it's completely normal that I spent most of my evening out tonight on the brink of an anxiety attack . . . right? Right?

Today, I cashed in on a Christmas present and went to see Wicked. My stepmother, her two daughters, her three sisters, and one niece all went as well. The play was absolutely awesome and I'm telling you right now that you should go. Run and buy tickets, it's that good. The company, however, was rather eye opening. It was like a day-long game of "one of these things is not like the other." I wasn't expecting to hear tales of who shot who, or which friend is in jail for drugs, or how many kids so and so has, or how many DUIs everyone has. It was a perfect example of how sheltered us country bumpkins can be.

Anyways, my ears are still ringing from sitting at a tiny dinner table with 7 other talkative women, and I have this incredible urge to go wake the kid up to give her a big hug. Seeing how I'm not quite that crazy, I'm just going to settle for worrying that she didn't drink enough all day and pick up the toysplosion that happens when grandpa lets someone get into everything.

What I've Been Up To

2008-02-21T19:15:00.009-05:00

Mmmm, fluffy bum! The first picture is of some prefolds made out of bamboo velour and bamboo terry, with a pocket to stuff with doublers. I had a ball dying them all different colors, and they will be making their debut on my hyenacart store next week. Super excited only comes close to describing it.

The next pictures are of my unhappy and uncooperative model in the first fitted I made. Somehow it turned out perfect, and as soon as I get my gigantic order of fabric, I'll be pumping these suckers out like crazy, replacing my $20 ones that fit exactly the same. I had a huge "Yay! Yay! Yay!" moment today when I tried it on her, because I, as usual, ordered before I knew I could definitely use the fabric.

That sewing machine was the best thing to ever come from the in-laws. Besides the husband, of course.

This is How We Get Things Done

2008-02-19T12:58:00.002-05:00

10 and a half months. I've lived here at this particular address for 10 and a half months. Know how many complains I've lodged with the post office?

12.

Damn. I didn't realize just how anal I was till I went back through my files and counted. (Yes, I do file stuff like that. Yes, that contributes to the anal-ness. Yes, I am considering therapy for my problems.) That's more than one incident a month. Pretty bad track record, even for an office managed by a guy name T-Cat with hair down to his waist.

There have been lost packages, smashed packages, opened packages, packages not picked up, packages dropped outside the door and left in the rain, packages jammed in the door, and more lost packages. And now I'm on a first name basis with Mr. T-Cat.

Today is the beginning of a new era though. I opened my door and nearly tripped over a package. On my mat. All the way up here. On the third floor. Sweet postal gods, someone did their job!

Apparently, my route has become such a nuisance that not only do I have a brand new post lady delivering everything, but she is under orders to bring my packages all the way up to my door.

So, the new motto is going to be 'just bitch harder' and maybe things will get done.

Can You Dig It?

2008-02-19T00:43:00.004-05:00

Dear Sesame Street . . .

Thank you.

Thank you for 5 minutes to eat breakfast. Or lunch. Whatever meal that was.

Although I'm not feeling the new "PC" version compared to what I remember, I still find the counting games and letter of the day to be wonderful background noise for that glorious hour.

She digs it.

And I dig anything that keeps the miniature tornado out of trouble.
(I think she's been deprived from regular diapers too much. There was nothing but pure joy as she ripped apart this package I found in the closet and deliberately flung each and every one around the room. We stopped the game before she could attack the other package.)

Huh? Sleeping? Me? Nah . . .

2008-02-17T19:36:00.002-05:00

Where, oh where, have I been? Passed out. That's where.

And not just passed out. Paaaaaasssssssed out.

See, every night I rock E for a little bit before I stick her in the crib. Lately, we've been doing a lot less rocking, as I manage to put myself to sleep shortly after her. Luckily I haven't dropped her yet. I've been waking up an hour or so later, wondering what in the world happened. And then my whole night is thrown off track, because I've had orders to make and sitting on my butt in front of the computer is last on the priority list.

And then last night, I did my best to stay awake to get her in the crib, and then came out into the living room. I sat down on the couch to fold clothes, and well, that's the last thing I remember. I woke up at 12:30 in a puddle of drool.

So, given the fact that I'm only getting more and more tired, it's "peace out, ya'll" tonight. I've got a little bit of sewing to do, and then I'm going to purposely pass out. In bed. Where I belong. No more of this couch stuff.

Theme Thursday - Pure

2008-02-14T01:08:00.003-05:00

The theme for this week was "pure". Interpretively, this could go a lot of ways, but we're going with the straightforward one - straight out of camera, or SOOC.

I'll be the first to admit that I haven't met a photo I didn't want to edit, but this was a good exercise in restraint. Sometimes it's perfectly fine to leave it alone. Unfortunately, the "whoa, this light is awesome, I don't even need to adjust the levels" moment is very rare for me. I have no patience, I shoot and think about the elements later. (It could have something to do with the fact that it's ass freezing cold outside and I practically live in a cave with no light in the first place). The other day, though, was one of those rare moments.

Check out more Theme Thursday over at The Land of K.A.

Wordless Wednesday - Cheese!

2008-02-13T00:49:00.002-05:00

Really, You Can Learn From Me

2008-02-12T20:04:00.001-05:00

So, say it's wickedly cold outside. Blowing, snowing, sleeting, snizzle, the works. You're not only out of food, but you're also out of toilet paper. You'd go out, right?

Well, I did. E was bundled into a marshmallow state, and I warmed the car up for nearly a half an hour to start thawing the ice enough to scrape it off. We headed out and went to the grocery store and Target. Idiot drivers were, of course, out in full force. You know, the ones that forgot that generally you park in rows in a parking lot, not diagonally. Or the one that drives down the center of two lanes, despite two clear sets of tracks. And the one that stops 15 feet before the trigger for the turning lane, causing a huge backup because the light never changes, they don't move, and no one can go around them.

I made it back, after learning that the anti-skid function on my car sounds like something horrible is happening to the front end, and that I really should slow down on my apartment complex drive. (Downhill, 90 degree turn, and a giant ditch on the other side). It was raining freezing rain really hard when I pulled in, so I just grabbed E and ran into the building. I thought I would go down after she fell asleep and get my groceries.

But see, it was freezing rain.

Crap.

And now it's 12 degrees out.

Crap.

And my car is frozen solid.

Crap.

And the toilet paper is still in there.

Along with the Kleenex. And the paper towels. And my Reese's peanut butter & chocolate heart.

Shit.

Georgia . . . Georgia . . . I've got Georgia on my mind. . .

And Then the Doorbell Rang

2008-02-08T19:54:00.001-05:00

Have I said before how awesome my husband is? Because, he is. Very awesome.

Smack dab in the middle of E's afternoon nap, my ridiculously loud buzzer went off from the lobby downstairs. Eff'ing this and eff'ing that, I buzzed the door open and went out into my hallway, ready to give whomever it was a giant piece of my mind.

**It's been a while, but any time someone needed to get into the building, they would randomly buzz someone's apartment, hoping they were home and would let them in. Since I wasn't expecting any packages, it was fairly safe to assume the hoodlums were at it again. And after the last couple times, I swore the next person was going to get handed a screaming baby and really experience the reason they shouldn't do that.**

However . . . up the stairs came the FTD delivery guy, carrying this awesome vase of flowers. And I melted. A little puddle of mushy, weepy me out in the hallway.

And then I heard someone crying. Loudly.

So much for naptime.

Oh, It Gets Better

2008-02-07T20:38:00.000-05:00

So, obnoxious saxophone playing neighbors?

They are now ridiculously beyond annoying saxophone AND drum playing neighbors.

I shit you not.

A few days after my last mention of the endless practicing, I heard something odd. I was washing clothes, so I wrote it off as my washer making some wicked bad sounds and ignored it. Then, the next day, I heard it again. It didn't last long, and I completely forgot about it. The day after that though, was an afternoon filled with the delights of saxophone scales and senseless drum banging. I listened closely, holding onto a shred of hope that it was just a snare, and not a whole set. And that hope was brutally shattered today to the tune of crashing cymbals, booming bass and banging snare. All approximately 2 inches on the other side of the shared wall.

What apartment dwelling parent would be so cruel to their neighbors as to not only get their kids an entire drum set, but to set it up as close to the other apartment as possible?

Seriously?

7 more weeks. 7 more weeks. 7 more weeks.

Wordless Wednesday - St. Simon's

2008-02-06T01:38:00.000-05:00

And, I'm cheating and making this only half of a wordless kind of post . . .

I stumbled across something on the great internet world that has left me scratching my head. Thanks to my trusty hit counter, I found one of my pictures somewhere else. Frankly, I don't like that form of flattery. Nor can I see why they would want it, because I'm not really that good. I mean, seriously, if you're going to poach pictures, take one from a good photographer at least!

So, from here on out, I will be watermarking. As much as it bugs the crap out of me to add an extra step, and as ridiculous as it may look stuck on those random, crappy snapshots, it will be there.

(And, no, it wasn't a picture of E.)

Apparently Driver's Ed is Not a Requirement

2008-02-05T22:59:00.000-05:00

It's always the brilliant ideas that go down in flames the best.

Today was a soggy, dreary, crappy day. But, it was a warm kind of crappy. A virtual heat wave at 50 degrees. And by late afternoon, E and I were going a bit beyond stir crazy. So, I bundled her up, grabbed a couple of blankets, and pulled on my boots. I got her all settled and cozy in the stroller, with the blankets draped so she would stay dry everywhere. And off we went, up the road and to the store.

There is one intersection I have to cross, and it's the main road. There are four lanes, plus a turning lane. However, there is no cross walk there, or anywhere in this po-dunk village. The light switches just long enough for me to haul ass across, and hope some dimwit doesn't turn without looking.

Well, the dimwits were out in full force today.

The light switched and I started across, keeping an eye on the cars pulling up. I was just about in front of the turning lane when a police car pulled up and jerked to a stop. Stupidly, I assumed he saw me, and that's why it was so sudden.

Nope.

After his car jerked to a stop, he gunned it, about to make the turn. Which was a bit of a problem because - A) his light was red and B) I was directly in front of him.

Being that I'm here writing this, it's safe to assume that not only did he stop and not run us over, but also that I am not in jail for assaulting a police officer for being an idiot. If he would have so much as touched E's stroller with the grill of his car . . .

Yeah, use your imagination. As it was, the evil eye was nowhere near enough. I seriously considered really letting know how I felt, but settled for a tamer hand gesture.

Eventually we made it to the store and did our shopping. Checked out and headed back home.

And then the rain started.

The kid was warm and dry.

The groceries were safe and dry.

I was sopping wet.

Who Wants Her?

2008-02-05T02:19:00.001-05:00

E and I spent the weekend at my mom's house. And it was glorious.

Sleeping all night long, kind of glorious.

Seriously. The kid will pitch a fit, convince me I'm confining her to a torture chamber, and wake up every two hours for the first part of the night. But the second we're at grandma's house? Angelic. Perfect. Asleep before hitting the mattress. Not a peep, all night long.

So yeah, next time we're having another bout of sleeping wars here - we're packing up and heading to grandma's. She can wear herself out chasing dogs and climbing stairs (neither of which she sees here).

Taking Care of Business (Finally!)

2008-02-01T19:57:00.000-05:00

Burgh Baby's Mom was kind enough to share the love long, long ago. And, I've completely slacked on all things related to bloggy love. Better late than never, eh? So, BBM, my freakily similar bloggy buddy, thank you.

I'm sending Nap Warden's award on to Veronica at Sleepless Nights, cause well, I can't stop reading her blog. And it's a really happy time over there right now, so it deserves some celebration!

The Blog Buddies Award I'm sending on to Confessions of a Coal Miner's Granddaughter, cause, again, I can't stop reading her blog. And I love when she pops up over here.

And now, knocking all this tag-you're-it stuff out of the way at once . . . on to Burgh Baby's Mom's tag for a meme.

5 things I want my kid to know:
1. It's better to be happy with yourself, than to be like everyone else.
2. Appreciate rainbows, fresh cut grass, glittering icicles and all the gifts of nature.
3. That money doesn't grow on trees, and things in life are rarely free, so learn to save.
4. Never hide intelligence or creativity.
5. Sometimes life's problems can be solved with milk and cookies and a good snuggle.

5 things you want to tell your child when she is grown up:
1. You are not defined by your relationship status. One plus one still makes two, and you should never change who you are for a man.
2. Explore the world at every chance you get.
3. About grandma, and great grandma, and why you need to know yourself.
4. It really is okay to start with dessert.
5. Work where you're happy, not where you're paid the most.

5 things you want to tell your child before you die:
1. You changed my life in ways you'll never know.
2. As much about your great grandpa as I can.
3. Why I fell in love with your father.
4. Always take pride in yourself and what you do. Do not settle for 'good enough'.
5. Secrets. My deep, dark, oldest secrets.

5 things you want your child to know before she dies:
1. Satisfaction, with anything - love, family, work, yourself.
2. Why baby hugs are so special.
3. How the mist of a waterfall feels, how wind on top of a mountain feels, and how ocean waves feel.
4. Devotion. Old fashioned devotion to something that draws you deeply.
5. More than me. If I can share as much as I know, then you can know so much more.

Tag-you're-it to Jenn at Life on the Roof, and anyone else who wants it.

Umm, Yeah, That About Sums It Up

2008-01-31T22:39:00.000-05:00

I apologize for the overwhelming funk that has been hanging around my recent posts. I've realized the misconception may be that I'm coming apart at the seams due to it being day number 381 since the husband left. While that blows in it's own right, the gigantic, dark, thundering cloud following me around is fairly unrelated.

So, let me sum up the general theme of life in the Longest Year household lately with one tale from tonight.

I have approximately 569 things to get done tonight, but I just picked up some cute embellishments for the scrapbook today and wanted to stick a couple on. I figured I could play for a half hour or so and then get started on everything else.

I'm working away, everything spread out on the dining table. I grab the glue to paste the first one on. I take off the cap, flip it upside down, and squeeze. Nothing. I shake it a couple times and squeeze. Nothing. I put the cap back on and bang it on the table. Take the cap back off and squeeze.

And it explodes.

Everywhere.

There is now glue on every surface in a ten foot radius. On the walls. On the carpet. On me. On my nearly new table. And worst of all . . . on every single page I've been working on.

Three hours later and my carpet is soaking wet, but mostly glue free (thank you, Woolite Oxy). The walls are wiped down. My table is no longer sticky. My hair is wet from the multiple washings it took to rinse the glue out.

However, there were multiple casualties of the paper kind. I managed to salvage only five pages. A few others may be helped by pasting stuff over the spots. But the rest . . . I've put them out of sight to keep from thinking about it.

And to top it off, I've got a lovely chemical reaction all up and down my arms from where I got covered in it.

Fantastic, eh?

"Shhh, mama, I saw you open that bottle of Bailey's you keep in the kitchen!"

Wordless Wednesday - Chained

2008-01-30T08:59:00.000-05:00

Step Away From the Radio

2008-01-29T23:41:00.000-05:00

Do not . . . I repeat, DO NOT . . . listen to the Dixie Chicks 'Traveling Soldier' on a day when you've run out of fingers to count everything that has gone wrong.

Especially when you're trying to pull out onto a very busy road, while leaving a car wash you went through yesterday, where you forgot to take your Blue Star Ribbon magnet off, which the management has thrown away.

No ribbon, two handfuls of problems, and a sad song . . . bad, bad combination.

The Past Loves to Haunt

2008-01-27T01:08:00.000-05:00

One of the loud, obnoxious, inconsiderate children in the apartment next to mine just took it to a whole new level.

They got a musical instrument.

A saxophone.

A loud, honking, squeaky saxophone.

And they have played for two hours every evening for the past three days. And then for another couple hours after dinner.

How do I know it's a saxophone? Well, I spent years of my youth torturing my own family with that unmistakable honking. And I know firsthand just how long it takes for it to transform into anything remotely melodious. It's going to be a long two months till moving day.

The first night, I actually found it funny. The kid must have seriously been playing in the bathroom, because as I was giving E her bath, it sounded like he was about two inches from us on the other side of the wall. But, that was the first hour. During the second hour, as I was trying to nurse E to somewhere between drowsy and passed out, it got to the point of serious consideration of instrumental harm. Thankfully the kid stopped before I tried to put E down for real and didn't start again till after she was out.

So, lately my concentration has been shot to hell and I've been hiding out in the farthest corner of the apartment from any shared walls. Along with the cats. (I think they all breathed a sigh of relief when I sold my saxophone this summer - seeing it leave the house and never come back was no doubt a joyous occasion for their ears).

Anyways, my hiding-out time has resulted in some major progress on the "E's First Year" scrapbook. I'm down to only about 4 months behind now!

For the Love of Junk Food . . .

2008-01-25T01:47:00.000-05:00

Why didn't I think of this one earlier?

I have a problem with junk food. If it's in the house, it's the first thing I'll go for. Screw the healthy stuff, bring on the chocolate. I suppose it's making up for when I was pregnant with E and wanted nothing more than to be seated in front of a salad bar for every meal.

So, I went shopping a few days ago and got a package of Double Stuff Mint Cream Oreos. In an attempt at keeping myself from eating them immediately, I left them in the car. Until tonight. When string cheese just wasn't cutting it anymore.

I pulled on my boots, grabbed the monitor and went downstairs and out to the car. Darted out into the subzero temperatures, grabbed my bounty and ran back inside. Once I was properly thawed out, I opened the package and . . . good lord, sweet mother of junk food . . . they were completely frozen. It was like biting into mint chocolate chip ice cream, only it was a cookie.

Why this ingenious twist had not occurred to me earlier, I'll never know.

But, from now on, you'll find the Oreo package stashed in the freezer.

If, of course, it lasts more than one day.

Ain't Gonna Sleep No More

2008-01-23T20:42:00.000-05:00

If Baby ain't happy,
Mama ain't happy.

If Mama ain't happy . . .
Baby ain't gonna sleep tonight.

Sure, she looks cute. But really, she's plotting my mental demise.

About five seconds before she woke up for the second time tonight, I was on the phone, telling my husband how I just wanted to kick something. Or punch something. Or possibly hurl things off the balcony.
(not the kid though, please, no one get any panties all wadded)

I have no outlet for anything anymore, and well, it's making me slightly crazy I think. At my job, I used to toss plants and mulch around all day. And after work, I used to go for a long (for me) run. I'd come home and be completely exhausted. And it was good. The good kind of tired.
(and let's not even start on the whole 'outlet' options that are available when the husband is home)

I want to work and be physically challenged, but I don't want to leave E. I want to go run until my lungs are screaming, but not in 20 degree weather. I want to fall into bed at night and feel accomplished in more ways than teaching E to use the potty chair (which she did today, by the way, all grown-up like for her 9 months) and playing peek-a-boo will bring me, but I don't want to miss her learning a single thing.
(and again, we won't even start on what I want to do with the husband)

Most of all I want to pull myself up out of this lonely and dismal place I find myself lately. I know E feeds off of my moods, and me being frustrated and annoyed at life certainly isn't helping her demeanor. I'm getting sucked into a routine of nothing but diaper changes, nap times and the mashed-food menu. I need to find myself a sense of accomplishment for something worthwhile. And I should probably look for a kick-boxing class while I'm at it.

Cause . . .

If Mama is happy,
Baby is happy.

And if Baby is happy,
Mama is gonna sleep tonight.

Oh, So That's Where My Balls Are At

2008-01-20T21:16:00.000-05:00

This afternoon, I was transferring a load of E's clothes into the dryer and the dryer balls that normally live in there were missing. I never take them out, so I was convinced I was losing my mind. I looked everywhere - behind the machine, in the cabinet, in the trash, in yesterday's clean clothes, every surface of the bathroom.

But, I never looked in the bathtub.

I never would have. It would have just been a fun, what-the-hell, surprise tomorrow morning. However, I got suspicious when I witnessed the child in the middle of her newest make-mommy-crazy trick.

I was in her room, directly across from the bathroom, folding even more clothes. I had the dryer door open, as I was about to empty that load. E was happily playing in the hallway, and then moved into the bathroom. And headed straight for the dryer.

One sock clutched in her chubby hand, she slid herself across the floor and carefully deposited it in the tub. Then slid back to the dryer and grabbed a t-shirt. And carefully deposited that in the tub.

After she got through three or four more articles of clothing, I stopped laughing long enough to go check out the bathtub and see what was in there. In addition to the recent additions, there were two washcloths, four socks, a pair of pants and a diaper cover. And, of course, my dryer balls.

Lesson learned - shut the dryer. Always. And check the tub when something is lost.

Sneaky Little Buggers

2008-01-19T23:25:00.000-05:00

I live in a village. We don't have our own post office, and if you address something to this village, it won't make it. We're so small, we share with the three surrounding townships.

It's almost one of those "don't blink" places. 2.2 miles, 3 stop lights, 3 gas stations, 4 bars, 5 resturants, a strip mall with 4 closed shops, 2 garages, 2 liquor stores, a drive-thru liquor store, and an adult store. It's a jam packed strip of klassiness.

Despite being so small, we do have our own police force. There are 5 patrol cars. And tonight, every single one of them was positioned along that 2.2 miles, doing what they do best.

As you roll down the high traffic, main route road that is our village center, the speed limit drops. On one end it goes from 40 to 25, the other from 55 to 25. If you don't know it's coming, you're shit out of luck, my friend. Because exactly 3 feet past that speed limit sign is one of our finest, ready to pick you out. You should take heed and listen to the just-before-the-limit Mr.Chicken sign that says "Avoid a ticket, eat here."

As you crest the hill, you can see the whole 2.2 miles. A quick scan often lulls drivers into thinking they are quite safe, everyone is at the Donut Shoppe (yes, we have a Donut Shoppe). But, you see, these are some sneaky little buggers, and you'll never see them till you have lights in your mirror. Tonight, one was in a full parking lot, another was at the car repair place, a third was behind a stand of bushes, a fourth was at the other car repair place and the fifth was in another full parking lot. All totally blended in, unless you knew they were there and knew their sneaky little hiding spots.

The guy in front of me didn't know.

It was awesome.

I, on the other hand, clearly knew they were there. I like to tempt fate a little and go 27. Or maybe even 28. I'm a thrill seeker, for sure.

Friday Night Dinner for One - Parmesan Tomatoes

2008-01-18T21:24:00.000-05:00

Brown sugar baked asparagus, fried spatzle, and parmesan encrusted tomatoes.

Asparagus

Wash, snap off ends, lay on cookie sheet with edges.
Place pats of butter on top, sprinkle with brown sugar.
Bake at 375 for 10 minutes.

Parmesan Crusted Tomatoes

1 cup white flour
1 tablespoon onion powder
2 teaspoons garlic granules
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper, ground
1 cup parmesan cheese, grated
1 cup panko (Japanese breadcrumbs)
12 slices tomatoes, sliced 1/2 inch thick (3 tomatoes)
2 eggs
2 tablespoons Dijon mustard
3 tablespoons olive oil

1. Combine flour, onion powder, granulated garlic, salt and pepper.
2. Mix well.
3. In separate bowl combine panko and Parmesan.
4. In third bowl combine eggs and mustard.
5. Take slices of tomato and dip in flour, dust off excess.
6. Then dip in egg mixture, letting excess drip off.
7. Finally dip in parmesan/panko mixture, pressing parmesan mixture onto slices for good coverage.
8. Repeat until all slices are breaded.
9. These should be stored in a single layer dusted lightly with extra crumbs.
10. Heat olive oil in non-stick frying pan, over medium-high heat.
11. Place 3 slices (1 order) in pan, and let cook about 1 1/2- 2 minutes on each side, until just golden brown.
12. Don't flip too soon or parmesan mix will fall off.
13. Serve.

9 Months!

2008-01-17T23:58:00.000-05:00

Happy 9 months to the girly!

She was being a little difficult, and made getting the obligatory monthly picture a lengthy process. We went through three pieces of paper before I got one of her not actually eating it. I almost said "screw it" and thought I was never going to see a hint of a smile.

This, however, is what I saw most of the day. Under the feet, tugging on the pants, whining to be picked up. Fickle as can be, she was all smiles when I was right there, and then immediate crocodile tears when I walked away.

Unless, of course, she was involved in something really, really important. And tasty.

The E word

2008-01-15T20:57:00.000-05:00

And no, I don't mean "E" as in my beautiful, charming, precocious little daughter. I mean "E" as in nasty, low-down, stinking extension.

Yes. That E word.

Today marks the end of my longest year. I dropped M off on base and went home to our empty house 365 days ago. 365 days of ups and downs, strong days and meltdowns, disappointment and excitement. But, you see, the longest year is not over for us yet. Back that train up, my dear. Hold your horses and put away the party gear.

Because of that E word.

I'll admit it. Denial is my permanent state of residence. From the time we found out he was going, I was convinced he would be back in the states and in training for another 'Army thing' by September. Absolutely convinced. But then, September came and went. And still, I was in denial. Absolutely convinced he would be home by January. Clearly, he's not.

Stupid E word.

I suppose it's my number one coping strategy, this denial thing. As if, when I don't acknowledge the enormous number of days we are counting, there really won't be so many. We won't have so many to go, and there won't be so many behind us, full of missed memories. There are nights when I'm rocking E to sleep and I look down at her, all peaceful, and wonder how she got so big. How we got this far already, and how I crossed those days off the calendar without even realizing how time was marching on. One day, it will seem like I just dropped him off yesterday. And another, it will seem like it's been years and we still have years to go.

Extension.

There. I said it. Today, I'm not denying it. I'm staring straight into the fact that our family will have been apart for a year and a quarter. Fifteen months. And we are going to have fifteen months of two separate lives to put back together again. Routines, habits, personalities, bedtimes, personal space, independence, discipline, and a little bit of OCD. All tossed back together again with two headstrong adults and a toddler.

And it scares me.

Now, don't go taking that to mean I'm not ecstatic about crossing the next few months off the calendar. Nope, don't do that. God alone knows how much I miss my husband and how much I need him by my side. Even M can't fathom that, and I don't think he ever will. I just want to skip over that bumpy patch in the future and go right on to the blissful, picture perfect, happy family.

(And, if we're doing any skipping ahead . . . let's just skip to the part with a quiet beach, some lounge chairs, a couple of margaritas, and yeah, a babysitter.)

Let's play catch up, shall we?

2008-01-14T22:12:00.000-05:00

Grab your coffee, folks, this one's a doozy!
(This is what you get when I don't blog more than a picture or a recipe for a week.)

Weiner, whiner.
I am a spoiled, spoiled wife. I spent weeks talking to my husband every day. And then . . . we went three days with no phone call and it just about broke me.

You don't realize how cherished those conversations are (even the ones where neither has anything to say, or you're both pissy), until they aren't there.

Stick a fork in me, I'm done. So over this deployment crap.

Yes, I am that customer.
The husband ordered me an absolutely rockin' anniversary present. He ordered it before our anniversary, which was the 1st, and I just got the email with the shipping info and tracking number on Friday. Their site claims 7-10 day shipping. Friday was day 13. Strike one.

I checked the tracking number from UPS, and saw that it said there had already been an attempted delivery. Which was odd, because I was home all day (because I have no life) and even saw the truck, but never had the buzzer ring. Late Friday night, I checked the number again and, lo and behold, it said the package was delivered. And it was signed for by someone that clearly did not have the same last name as me. Strike two.

I called UPS and found out that the sender (where the husband ordered from) had written a 0 instead of a 1, and it had been delivered to another apartment in my complex. So, UPS, not at fault.

This morning, I called the company to resolve this issue (I use resolve lightly - I generally demand my way or the highway). I lucked out and got the chick who can't think of an answer for herself and had to put me on hold every 13 seconds. After going round and round that I did not actually have a brand new Kitchen Aid mixer, Artisan style in Pistachio, sitting right next to me, she wised up and called UPS herself. While I sat on hold. For a very, very long time.

I don't know what she got out of her conversation with them, but when she came back on the phone her explanation was that UPS delivers your package to your neighbor's house when you aren't home. (*scratches head*)

In the end, she had three options for me: 1) Go over there and ask them for it myself (Nope, not happening). 2) Have them send out a trace through UPS for it, and then have it delivered striahgt to me from them. (Again, not happening, we paid for a new mixer and damnit, I'm getting a new mixer - not one someone else may have done who knows what with). 3)Send out the trace, which would take about 10 days, have it delivered back to the company, and then they would send out my new one. (So, I will have waited 4 weeks by then. Nope, not happening.) Strikes three through five.

So, I told them to suck it and cancel my effing order.
(Well, not really in those words. But I wanted to.)

We just can't have nice things!
Looky, looky what has come to live with me!

When I jump into something, I dive all the way in. So, having found a penchant for sewing, I got myself a serger. Logical step, right? (Yes, you are entitled to roll your eyes at this point.)

The project list is piling up, and the storage for fabric is growing full.E is going to be one stylin' kid, if I can get the hang of this. And, if I don't break it any more than I already have.

Yeah, that's right. The machine was in my possession for less than 20 minutes before I broke the thread rod. Well, actually, my dad broke it by reclining the seat in my car back onto it . . . but we aren't telling him that.

Someone tell her to stop growing up!
So, the reason for the complete and utter lack of sleep? Well, I could blame Burgh Baby for starting the trend and sending out the word to all kiddos to protest sleep at all costs . . . But, shockingly, there seems to be a real explanation this time.

Teeth number 7 and 8 have shown up. Yes, folks, that's 8 teeth in 7 weeks. Nothing like life in the fast lane of development.

And speaking of development . . . I'm going to go broke buying new pants for this kid. (Unless I can keep scoring them for less than $2.50 at Old Navy like I did yesterday.) She is not even 9 months old, and we had to size up to 18-24 months. I put her in the 12-18 right before Christmas, and they are now mid-calf length. (Yay, capris!)

I was smart though. I snatched up a couple of 2Ts as well. You know, for next month, when these don't fit.

Mommy ain't too bright, now is she?
Note to self: Do not teach the kid a new trick and make her laugh while she is eating peas. Not only do they stain the carpet, but green cat puke stains worse. And cats puke when they eat peas. Even just one.

Friday Night Dinner for One - Georgian

2008-01-11T23:41:00.001-05:00

As if the husband didn't have enough reason to want to come home, he now gets to drool over the sight of one of our favorite meals from when we were in Russia.

Khalia (spicy stew)

Ingredients:

1 1/2 lb beef chuck boneless cubed 1/2"
3 tb olive oil
3/4 c beef stock
3 ea onions, chopped fine
2 ts tamarind concentrate
2 1/2 tb tomato paste
1/2 ts paprika hungarian hot
1/4 ts fenugreek ground
3/4 ts coriander seeds, crushed
1 ts tarragon dried
salt
1 1/2 ts black pepper freshly ground
3 ea garlic cloves minced fine
3 tb cilantro leaves chopped
1/4 c walnut pieces finely chopped
1 tb sugar or honey

Directions:

Heat the oil over med-high heat in a large cast iron skillet. Add the beef, onions, and garlic and cook while stirring for 12-15 minutes. Combine the hot beef stock, with the tomato paste and the tamarind concentrate in a bowl and allow to stand until all of the tamarind concentrate is dissolved. Add this mixture to the beef as well as all of the other ingredients, reduce heat to low, cover and simmer for 1 1/2 hours. Be sure to stir occassionally. Add stock as needed if the liquid reduces too much. Add the sugar and walnuts and simmer for 15 more minutes.

Khachapuri (cheesy bread)

2 c	flour
¾ ts	baking soda
¼ ts	salt
½ c	feta cheese "or"
¼ c	roquefort cheese
1 c	grated mozarrela ( or
	Georgian suluguni cheese )
1	egg beaten
1 ts	unsalted butter

In a medium bowl, beat in 1/3 cup flour with oil. Add yogurt and mix well. Then stir in 1/3 cup more flour. Sift cornstarch, baking soda and salt and stir in flour mixture. Gradually stir in enough remaining flour to make a soft but not sticky dough. Lightly dust with flour and cover with a kitchen towel and let rest at room temp, 1 to 2 hours. If using feta, soak in water 10 minutes and drain and crumble. In a medium bowl mix feta or roquefort and mozarella and egg. Shape cheeses into 2 medium balls and set aside. Divide dough into 2 portions and roll each into a ball. On floured surface flatten each ball into a 7 inch round. With floured hands gently rotate dough and pull into a 10 inch circle, 1/4 inch thick. Be careful not to tear dough. Pat each cheese ball into a 5 inch circle on center of dough. Gently roll up edges of dough hold in cheese. Twist ends to hold together. Brush top of bread and cheese with melted butter. Bake on a greased cookie sheet for 40-50 minutes at 350, or until golden brown. Lightly brush top of bread with butter and let bread stand for 5 minutes. Use a serrated knife to cut bread and serve warm.

Theme Thursday - Contrast

2008-01-10T20:45:00.001-05:00

Yay for finally participating in this! (Even if I am way late in the day). Visit Stacy over at The Land of K.A. for more Theme Thursday.

Wordless Wednesday - She's going to hate me when she's older

2008-01-09T09:16:00.001-05:00

Free to a good home

2008-01-08T23:49:00.001-05:00

Free to a good home:
Three cats
Included - (1) child sized squeeze toy, (1) phantom mouse watcher, (1) midnight hallway roadblocker, (11) couch shredding clawed paws, (3) twitching tails.
Not included - Brains.

I swear. After a few incidents of cat food spilled all over the kitchen floor from one of the genius felines (trying to get it on the counter when I put it up so E wouldn't get it), I broke down and got a baby gate for the kitchen. I cut a nifty little hole in it, so the three-legged one could get through and everything. I had it at the entrance to the kitchen and all was hunky-dory.

And then. Then, I moved it approximately 4 feet closer to the food bowl and completely disrupted their lives. The two couldn't figure out how to go through the hole, and wouldn't jump over it, and it was too close to the scary stove for the other one. I had at least one sitting in the kitchen and one under my feet all night, meowing. Even after I shoved them one by one through the hole, they turned around and came right back out. Then sat there on the wrong side, staring at the elusive food bowl. Meowing.

It takes a lot of meowing to get on my nerves. Really, it does. But see, here's the kicker. They woke the baby. Seriously. They meowed so freaking loud they woke the kid.

Dumb cats.

(no, they really aren't going to new homes, and yes, I did put the gate back and allow the starving creatures to get their food.)

More looky, looky what I made!

2008-01-06T00:12:00.000-05:00

Ta-da! Reversible pouch slings! An evolved version of this one.

I ordered these fabrics a while back and they took forever to get here. Well worth the wait though, as they are both gorgeous combinations in person. I started on the brown one last night and learned a valuable sewing lesson that resulted in me having to rip over half my seams and start over. Apparently, some things just cannot be done the easy way. And apparently, not everything can be turned right side out again once you sew it. Imagine that.

Once I figured out what the heck I was doing, I whipped them out in just about two hours for the both of them. And I only ended up cursing my evil sewing machine a few times. (Seriously, it randomly zigzags on just one side when it's supposed to be doing a straight stitch. Freakin weird, I tell ya.)

Sledding with E

2008-01-05T23:59:00.001-05:00

"Here we go!"

"Or, here we will go, if Mom ever gets this thing figured out. She's saying sleds must have gotten smaller since she was little."

"And now her big butt got us stuck. I don't think it's that the sleds that got smaller, Mom."

"Seriously, she thinks this is fun?"

"What? It's over? Yay! Fun! Let's go in!"

"I thought it was over. I wanna go in. This cold stuff blows."

"IwannagoinandgetwarmandyoustuckmeinthesnowandIhateit. Takemetothebeachinstead!"

Crazy is as crazy does

2008-01-04T01:50:00.000-05:00

What on earth is the poor kid going to do without her grandma? I sure as hell can't make her laugh like this.

We'll just have to keep our fingers crossed that she thinks her daddy is as much of a comedian as my crazy mother.

Oh, my head hurts

2008-01-02T23:08:00.000-05:00

Okay. I don't even want to admit how long I spent tonight html-ing my way to a new layout. Heck, I don't even know html, and yet, here I sat. Telling myself every ten minutes that this was hopeless and to get up already.

So, an unknown number of hours later, and the only thing I am still fighting with Blogger about is my header. And there will be plenty of time another day for that battle.

Funny, I don't even remember what I was supposed to be doing tonight . . . oh, right. Yeah. Diapers, dishes, bills, kitty litter, laundry, fixing the printer, taking down the tree.

Shame on me. Bad domestic engineer that I am.

(does this layout suck? be honest, please. the opinion is slightly skewed from this end.)

3 Wonderful Years

2008-01-01T23:56:00.001-05:00

Happy anniversary to the husband and I. It's truly been three amazing years - even if we've spent more time away from each other than together.

Nothing could have been more 'us' than being engaged for just 5 weeks, only having 8 guests, and celebrating at Olive Garden afterwards.

Here's to many more, spent together.

It's ALIVE!!

2007-12-30T00:21:00.001-05:00

My little Calamondin tree has survived the transplant to the frozen northern tundra (okay, chilly, mushy tundra). And it is thriving. There was new growth, buds, flowers, and yes, fruit.

Granted, there are only four. But still. I have citrus. Growing. In Ohio.

Now, if only my palm tree would have done as well with the move.

Friday Night Dinner for One - Scallops

2007-12-28T23:51:00.000-05:00

I hereby declare Friday nights as "learn to cook again" nights. And you, dear readers, get to hear all about it.

Tonight's menu ~ Pasta with pan seared shrimp and scallops. Dessert of Starbuck's Cranberry Bliss Bar.

Outcome ~ Dinner was excellent. I personally don't care for scallops, but on a whim picked some up at the store today. The husband loves them, and I figured it would be a good thing to know how to cook them for when he gets home. Despite not caring for them overall, the dish turned out very tasty. I made up the sauce as I was cooking, and thankfully I didn't waste my money by turning the scallops into something burned or mushy. Dessert, on the other hand, was not good at all. I got one of these bars the other day at Starbuck's and immediately decided to find a recipe. I thought I found a good one, but not so much. The frosting is runny, and the cake is way too heavy. There will be tweaking in the future, for sure.

Pasta with scallops and shrimp

Dry scallops with a paper towel.
Melt 2-3 tablespoons butter in a pan.
Add a generous dash of garlic powder, a pinch of dried parsley and a dash of white wine.
Saute shrimp and scallops in mixture until scallops are springy, and browning on the ends.
Pour contents of pan onto pasta, add another pinch of parsley.
Done!

Starbuck's Cranberry Bliss Bars

1 cup (2 sticks) butter, softened
1 1/4 cups light brown sugar, packed
3 eggs
1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla
1 teaspoon ginger
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
3/4 cup diced dried cranberries
6 ounces white chocolate, cut into chunks
½ tsp baking powder

Frosting

4-ounces cream cheese, softened
3 cups powdered sugar
4 teaspoons lemon juice
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/4 cup diced dried cranberries

Drizzled Icing

1/2 cup powdered sugar
1 tablespoon milk
2 teaspoons vegetable shortening

1. Preheat oven to 350°F.

2. Make cake by beating butter and brown sugar together with an electric mixer until smooth. Add eggs, vanilla, ginger, baking powder and salt and beat well. Gradually mix in flour until smooth. Mix 3/4 cup diced dried cranberries and white chocolate into the batter by hand. Pour batter into a well-greased 9x13" baking pan. Use a spatula to spread the batter evenly across the pan. Bake for 35 to 40 minutes or until cake is light brown on the edges. Allow cake to cool.

3. Make frosting by combining softened cream cheese, 3 cups powdered sugar, lemon juice and vanilla extract in a medium bowl with an electric mixer until smooth. When the cake has cooled, use a spatula to spread frosting over the top of the cake.

4. Sprinkle 1/4 cup of diced cranberries over the frosting on the cake.

5. Whisk together 1/2 cup powdered sugar, 1 tablespoon milk, and shortening. Drizzle icing over the cranberries in a sweeping motion or use a pastry bag with a fine tip to drizzle frosting across the top of the cake.

6. Allow cake to sit for several hours, then slice the cake lengthwise (the long way) through the middle. Slice the cake across the width three times making a total of eight rectangular slices. Slice each of those rectangles diagonally creating 16 triangular slices.

Makes 16 bars.

Well, we survived that one.

2007-12-27T19:10:00.000-05:00

Sooooo . . .

~ Christmas is over! Yay! Whoohoo! The happy face can come off and I can go back to my routine of only being social on the weekends. No more family oriented holidays. My mom and I are going to split a bottle of champagne for our lonely and boring New Year's Eve. I'm pretending New Year's Day is just an ordinary Tuesday and not my anniversary. Valentine's Day is a non-holiday in our house anyways. I may be back in Georgia in time to take E to the St. Patty's Day Parade. And then . . . then . . . then there will be a homecoming ceremony to go to! And if it doesn't happen before Easter, I'm going to be a slightly annoyed. If it doesn't happen before E's birthday, I'm going to be really, really annoyed. Really.

~ Being on autopilot with a smile pasted on should be convincing. But, clearly I need some more practice, as every time I find myself in that mode, the in-laws think I'm pissed at them about something. I mean, chances are I'm annoyed about one thing or another, but usually it's so far off from what they think it is, it's kinda funny.

~ There are two of the same toy sitting in my living room. Each given to E by a parent of mine. Each of which doesn't really care for the other. And, of course, each toy has just enough variation to them that I can't pass them off as exactly the same. So, we will play musical toys when the respective grandparent comes over.

~ E's closet is now stocked with a full winter wardrobe. In sizes 12-24 months. Which will fit this spring. When we move back to Georgia. Where it's at least 80.

~ It is absolutely impossible to find a swimsuit for a child in the middle of winter. Let alone a non-skimpy adult one. We may be attending the baby swim class in t-shirts.

~ Teeth are evil. Teething is evil. E and I both agree on that one. Sleeping patterns are shot to hell. 6pm-8am one night, up three times the next, up every half hour the one after that. Tonight I'm on edge and the apartment is absolutely silent in hopes she'll at least get till early morning.

~ My mother came up with a new reason to love being a grandparent. E and I slept over two nights, and in the morning my mom recounted how happy it made her to hear E wake up and to know that she didn't have to go get her. She claims she thought about getting up for me, but her bed was awfully cozy and somehow she just fell back asleep.

~Despite lack of sleep, the two of us can be really silly. E has started to get laughing fits where she laughs so hard she falls over. This is especially prone to happen when I'm looking like a madwoman and chasing her around the house on all fours.

Well, there goes that sleeping baby thought. In the time it took to upload that there picture, the wailing and banging on the crib music player thing has begun.

Oh, joy of joys.

I know, I know. Payback's a bitch and this is what I get for those angelic first 8 months.

E's first Christmas - v3.0

2007-12-27T00:19:00.000-05:00

I don't expect anyone but my husband to get a kick out of this one, but I think he'll be happy I posted it.

I'll give a hint though - the comic value is not with the baby.

E's first Christmas - v2.0

2007-12-27T00:14:00.001-05:00

Round Two

E's first Christmas - v1.0

2007-12-24T00:55:00.000-05:00

Round One!

Three words for this one, my friends. Spoiled and Sensory Overload.

The hacksaw won . . .

2007-12-23T00:10:00.000-05:00

How to put up a Christmas tree.

It should go a little something like this - take tree out of box, fluff branches, plug in lights, decorate.

It should not go like this . . . .

Take tree down from roof of car.
Slip on ice and bust your ass.
Curse tree.
Curse ice.
Haul tree into garage.
Set up ladder.
Climb ladder to rafters to dig out tree stand.
Find tree stand, but cause cascade of boxes to fall as well.
Curse boxes.
Put ladder away.
Set tree in stand.
See branches that need to be cut off.
Search for hand saw.
Find hacksaw instead.
Lay tree on ground and start sawing.
Slice index finger open - where it bends, of course.
Get blood everywhere.
Curse tree.
Curse saw.
Curse sap that is way too close to wound.
Start sawing again.
Pull branches away and hope it fits.
Stick tree in stand.
Start turning screws.
Realize that tree is too small and inside ring is turning.
Take screws out.
Try again.
Take screws out.
Try again.
Take screws out.
Try again.
Realize a second person would really help.
See that one hole is on longer threaded.
Decide not to care.
Tighten screws.
Decide tree wobbling a few inches here and there isn't that bad.
Carry tree inside.
Get needles EVERYWHERE.
Step in needles.
Curse tree.
Curse needles.
Set tree in place.
Command tree not to move.
Scrub sap off hands.
Keep scrubbing.
More scrubbing.
Curse sap.
Bandage finger.
Curse hacksaw again.
Look at lights that need to be strung.
Realize that this isn't even your tree and you just did all that to surprise someone who is probably going to complain that the tree is in the wrong spot or something.
Curse your own generous spirit.

E says "Hey mama, this looks so much easier!"

Magic and randomness

2007-12-21T23:17:00.001-05:00

"Oh, looky! A remote!"

"Ohmmmm. Ohmmmm."

"Yeah. I rock. I'm the next great magician. Now watch me make it disappear!"

On with the randomness!

~ The diaper E is wearing is the newest addition to the diaper collection. We have entered the world of prefolds. Quite fun, and a ton cheaper than the other obsessions. However, they are the biggest pain in the ass to fasten when Lil' Miss Buttercup refuses to sit still or stand still or at least not put up such a huge struggle. I'm still searching for something to hold her attention for longer than .4 seconds.

~ I had an idea for two matching somethings to sew, and am obsessing over the fabric that is on it's way here. I'm going to make up a prototype this weekend. So, so excited about this one!

~ I'm not leaving my apartment for the rest of the holiday season. In one venture merely 5 minutes up the road, I . . .
. . . was nearly hit by someone running a red light.
. . . was flipped of for taking a parking spot that was rightfully mine - blinker on and everything.
. . . was bashed into while walking through the store, caused to drop everything, and no one offered to help pick it back up - despite the juggling act I was already doing with the kid.
. . . was not given a bag for my purchases. Yes. At Best Buy, I actually had to ask the cashier to put my stuff in a bag.
. . . was told to "hurry up and move" while standing next to my car and buckling the kid in. Apparently, me getting to my car first and spending the 30 seconds to buckle her in was going to ruin this person's day. Despite the fact they told me to move BEFORE they had even gotten into their car.
. . . was cut-off by a semi truck, who was dead stopped in one lane and decided he wanted to be in mine as I was approaching. The speed limit is 55. And he turned just about when I was at his bumper. And yeah, my brakes really stink when they get locked up.
And that, folks, is why I'm not leaving the apartment until next year.

Wordless Wednesday - Oh, take me there!

2007-12-19T09:25:00.000-05:00

True love, it's what I'm dreamin' of . . .

2007-12-16T20:26:00.000-05:00

Meet Kitty, the meanest, nastiest, most terrifying three-legged feline around. This is the cat that would bring squirrels, rabbits and birds to my grandfather daily. This is the cat that I inherited because I am the only person he doesn't maul. This is the cat that will shred your forearm just because it came within striking distance.

And now?

This is the cat that purrs and cuddles and licks the little girlie's head. This is the cat that lets her climb on him, pull his tail and grab his ears.

This is the mellowest, softest, cushiest pillow around.

There's Kool-aid in that water

2007-12-16T08:50:00.001-05:00

I have a mass suicide going on in my fishtank, and it's not pretty. I woke up to find 50% of the population either floating or stuck to the filter.

There's a desperate rescue attempt for the survivors, but I'm afraid they aren't going to make it. Either the heater went out - cause the water is at 72, when it should be at 78 - or something is in the water, because it looks kinda funky.

Or they got a hold of the Kool-aid.

ACU diaper bag

2007-12-16T00:55:00.001-05:00

Looky, looky what else I did!

It took me six months to get up the nerve to finish it once I cut the fabric. Sure, the seams aren't all that lovely, and it could be structured a little better . . . but hey, I think it's pretty good for a first attempt. And no, I didn't sew the pocket on crooked, it's just velcro-ed funny.

I did some major damage at JoAnn's the other day and have stacks of future projects. Fabric, beads, and scrapbooking supplies galore. It's getting very crowded around here as my crafting corner is overflowing. I have visions of an entire closet, with shelves and drawers and counters and all that good stuff. Someday, someday.

Once my aluminum rings get here, I'll get started on a ring sling to replace my pouch sling that E is too big for now. I am torn as to what to do with that now - sentimentally attached to it, but wondering if I could sell it for anything. Hmm . . .

Yeah, I did that.

2007-12-14T00:21:00.000-05:00

I did it, I did it!! Wahoo!

I just successfully replaced the elastic in one of E's BumGenius diapers. I am so thrilled with myself, it's not even funny.

See, these things are insanely expensive, and I have 9 of them. All of which had the elastic completely wear out within 6 months of me using them. They're supposed to last a lot longer than that. The company claimed it was a bad batch of elastic, but I learn more towards cheap elastic, cause they weren't all purchased from the same place or at the same time. No reason for all of them to go bad.

So anyways, I've just saved myself a ton of money by being able to fix them and not have to replace them. It's not the prettiest thing, but it's functional. And that makes me very, very happy!

This whole sewing machine thing just keeps proving to be more and more useful.

Our day - E's narrative

2007-12-11T23:32:00.001-05:00

"Help, help! Let me out! I'm trapped in here with the crazy lady!"

"Seriously, woman, get with it. There's still a pumpkin out here and it's December already. And this window is absolutely filthy. I'm not sure I even want to stick my mouth on it, it's that bad."

"Fine, I guess I'll just have to fold my own diapers. Obviously you aren't going to do it. Now push me to my room!"

Christmas Past, Present and Future

2007-12-07T23:58:00.000-05:00

Burgh Baby's Mom has requested my participation in her very own meme. Again, I'm honored that I'm that interesting. So, in accordance with rule number one, here is the list of my favorite childhood Christmas gift, my favorite gift that I received as an adult, and a gift that I would like to receive in the future. As for the rest of the rules, I'll only partly follow them. I hate tagging people, so I'll just do two, instead of the requested three. Colleen at A Madison Mom and Jenn at Life on the Roof.

Christmas Past:
I was (and admittedly still am) very spoiled. I got a pony for Christmas one year. Seriously. A pony. Kinda hard to top that, but something did. Long, long ago I used to dream that I would be a hockey player. I must have been 8 or 9, and couldn't skate to save my life. But, oh, I was going to learn. That year my parents surprised me with a set of hockey sticks and some pucks. As my mom and stick-in-the-mud sister stayed inside, my dad and I spent hours on the frozen driveway. We had a make-shift goal and everything. I still can't skate to save my life, but I cried a little inside when we sold those sticks at a garage sale recently.

Christmas Present:
I'd love to be sappy on this one and claim some heartfelt, romantic gift from my husband is my favorite, but I can't. I can't pull myself away (or my feet out of) my boots. Nothing romantic about boots. Practical. Yes, very, very practical. And they were all M's idea, so that makes them even better. He suggested, I said "sure honey" and they arrived at my doorstep. That's the kind of Christmas presents we do. Two months in advance and picked out together.

A good second runner up would be each of the ornaments my mother has given me. Each year we both try to find a few special and unique ornaments to give each other. Sure, she may have crazy taste, and may leave me wondering what she was thinking . . . but I can always get her back the next year.

Christmas Future:
This is the section I have reserved to be sappy. All I want for Christmas is my husband, my daughter and our home, wherever it may be. Waking up on Christmas morning and making waffles and watching the parade while E rips open presents. No staying at a relatives house, no planning three different locations in one day. Maybe some day . . .

However, a super awesome photo printer that would allow me to never have to rely on Target or Walmart for my prints would be just excellent. :-D

Yeah, more pictures . . .

2007-12-07T21:45:00.000-05:00

I refrained myself and just picked out my four favorite. Instead of the thirty-two I have as 'really good ones'.

I learned something during this photo shoot. A second adult must be present to maintain the attention of E. Otherwise, what should take 30 minutes will take hours. Crawling away, yanking the backdrop down, chewing on the dress. It's all good fun.

Wordless Wednesday - Always Read the Signs!

2007-12-05T09:46:00.000-05:00

100 Things for a 100th Post

2007-12-02T22:30:00.000-05:00

In honor of my 100th post on this thing, I figured I would do a 100 things kind of post. I thought about 100 things I've learned about being a mom, or 100 reasons why the Army sucks, or 100 reasons my family is insane. Instead, I chose to stick to the roots of this blog, and my longest year. So . . . 100 things I miss about my husband.

I miss . . .

1. The sound of ramen noodles being pounded on the countertop.

2. Leftover crunchies all over the floor from those noodles.

3. 35 drinking glasses, most half full of water, scattered throughout the house.

4. 65 folded-up, un-used paper towels also scattered throughout the house.

5. CNN always being the homepage.

6. Someone to share the bottle of wine with.

7. Toothpaste chunks in the sink.

8. My bed-warmer.

9. Random geography lessons.

10. The trash getting taken out by someone other than me.

11. Socks. Everywhere.

12. Fishing soggy candy bar wrappers out of the washing machine.

13. Muddy boots.

14. Wet towels left on the bed all day.

15. Someone to pump my gas.

16. Elbows to the head in the middle of the night.

17. The alarm clock going off at 4:50am. And 5:05am. And 5:20am. And 5:25am.

18. Mock combatives.

19. Gossip.

20. Someone to watch South Park, SVU and the Daily Show with.

21. My ice cream enabler.

22. Giving haircuts.

23. Hand holding.

24. Being nagged to fold my clothes.

25. Pillow snatching.

26. Midnight walks in the snow.

27. Someone to open the salsa jar.

28. Wearing sexy underwear for a reason.

29. Deep conversations that come out of nowhere.

30. Flowers for no reason.

31. Someone to warm up the car.

32. Grocery shopping.

33. Motorcycle rides.

34. Being dragged to the movies.

35. Having a spider killer.

36. And a middle of the night noise investigator.

37. Sharing a shower.

38. Fighting over how hot the water should be.

39. A cozy shoulder to snuggle on.

40. Someone to wash the car.

41. Lunch breaks.

42. Weekend get-aways.

43. Trying new restaurants.

44. Stealing the last few bites of a snack.

45. Back rubs.

46.Someone to fix all technological problems by simply looking at the offending electronic item.

47. Fighting over the remote.

48. Bargaining for yard work time.

49. Hearing grumbles over hanging Christmas lights.

50. Being lied to about what time we're really supposed to leave - so that I'm on time.

51. Getting the giggles in church.

52. Hearing someone sing, causing the giggles in church.

53. Fighting over the thermostat.

54. Snoring.

55. Sharing the computer chair to look up something fun together.

56. Going to bed at a normal hour.

57. The anticipation of him walking in the door after work.

58. Stinky uniforms.

59. Good morning kisses.

60. Having someone to cook for.

61. Brushing my teeth with an audience.

62. Locking the bathroom door so there won't be any practical jokes.

63. Having to stay on one side of the bed.

64. Chess.

65. Staying up all night talking.

66. Having a running partner.

67. Hearing baby laughter that only a Daddy can cause.

68. Sharing a blanket on the couch.

69. Being made hot tea, just cause it's cold out.

70. Catching him watching me.

71. Exploring new places.

72. Pretending to listen about cars.

73. Arguing about driving.

74. The smell of his deodorant.

75. The toilet paper roll being put on backwards.

76. Having a reason to get off the computer at night.

77. Not worrying about running out of cell minutes.

78. Friendly competition.

79. Someone to lean on in church.

80. Foot rubs.

81. Piles of magazines in the bathroom.

82. Dressing up.

83. Inside jokes.

84. Wondering around Lowe's, dreaming of future houses.

85. Telling someone to stop breathing so darn loud.

86. Being tickled.

87. Having the covers thrown off on a cold morning to get me moving.

88. Wet hugs.

89. Dishes in the sink.

90. Seeing who can build a better fire.

91. Swinging in the hammock.

92. The farmer's tan.

93. Being held while I cry.

94. Not making every decision, every day

95. Sharing.

96. Icy hands or toes on a warm body.

97. Long hugs in the kitchen.

98. Day old stubble, scratchy kisses.

99. Sex. Lots of sex. (Really now, did you think I was going to leave this one out?)

100. Him. My husband. My best friend.

My two front teeth . . .

2007-12-02T02:17:00.001-05:00

If you squint, you can see them in there. I think she's working on the top ones now.

"All I want for Christmas are my four front teeth . . ."

Fa la la la laaaa!

2007-11-29T23:30:00.000-05:00

I just bought tickets to see the Trans Siberian Orchestra and I am so. freaking. excited.

I was convinced I wasn't going to find anyone to go with me, and the prospect of going alone wasn't all that enticing. And then, out of nowhere, my mother began going on and on about how much she would love to go to the show. (Shhh, don't fill her in on the inspiration for the music. We'll let her be slightly surprised once we're there and seated.) Provided E goes to sleep for whomever watches her, and my mother behaves herself and doesn't finish off what's left of my nerves, it will be an excellent time.

I still remember when M took me to see them. It was freezing out, and we were both dressed way up (I looked damn fine, if I do say so myself). We had blocks to walk, through the slushy streets of Akron. Once we were inside, we found ourselves seated next to a couple in jeans and Metallica shirts. M in a suit, and Metallica shirts. Klassy.

After the show, and wandering back to the car, we drove back to campus and broke into the dorms. It was winter break, and completely deserted. But, uh, M needed something from his room . . . or something like that . . .

Ah, memories.

It's over

2007-11-28T23:46:00.000-05:00

The blissful streak has finally ended. After 181 days of sleeping 12 + hours, E woke up in the middle of the night for the first time.

Sure, there were nights during the whole learning to roll phase where she would whimper enough to get me to flip her back over. But we won't count those. They don't even come close to this madness.

There was crying, there were tears, there was fighting not to lay down, there were high pitched wails . . . but worst of all . . . there was puke. Green puke. Mmmm, peas. Yum!

It never dawned on me to strategize how to handle this mid-night waking thing. Do I pick her up? Do I just rub her back? Do I let her nurse? Do I change her diaper? All those little things that could just maybe lead to this becoming a very bad habit. I probably stood next to her crib for a few minutes, dumbfounded, trying to figure out just what I was supposed to do. I tried all of the above options, and then some, valiantly hoping she'd fall back asleep. And then she puked, and solved my dilemma.

While I wrestled with the crib mattress, cursing it to release the death grip on the sheet, E passed out on the floor.

I guess, sometimes, you just need to get it all out. Literally.

Silly child . . .

2007-11-26T22:47:00.000-05:00

"Those are Mama's presents!"

" No, no, no, you can't chew on the super fancy external hard drive Daddy got Mama for Christmas."

"Here, chew on the box."

Still in a bleary-eyed, stuffy head fog. E is starting to protest the lack of enthusiasm in the fun mom department.

If I wasn't too damn cheap, I'd take her swimming tomorrow.

Maybe we'll just go to the mall so I can sneeze all over other shoppers.

Aren't you glad you aren't around me?

Who used all the Kleenex?

2007-11-25T23:58:00.001-05:00

I was told I'm neglecting my blog. Frankly, I doubt anyone else cares, except that person who has it set as their homepage (ahh, let me count the ways he loves me!)

Being that I'm sick, exhausted, nauseous, slightly delirious and am surrounded by an endless sea of tissues . . . I feel it best to leave any deep thoughts to a later time. I fear the excessive amounts of crankiness and depression that just might surface. (I said excessive. As in, above the average amounts that are here.)

I can't leave anyone hanging though. I give to you the child who clearly has so few teething toys that she needs to chew on the table.

7 things about me meme . . . meme me me . . .

2007-11-21T23:03:00.000-05:00

So many exciting things in one day! (yes, my life really is that dull that I do get excited about things like this). Burgh Baby's Mom tagged me for 7 random things about me. So, here we go.

1. I cannot go to bed at night without crossing the day off my calendar.

I will actually get up from my warm, cozy bed to go do that. Each day crossed off is another day closer to the end of this longest year.

2. This one time, at band camp . . .

I met a boy, but he was dating my best friend. Well, I married that boy, and that best friend is a wonderful lady that I still love to talk to.

3. I will eat that entire super-size box of cereal.

So rarely do I have milk in the fridge that isn't spoiled or iffy, that when I do get cereal and milk, I'll eat the whole box in just a few days (or less). That way I don't have to worry about the milk spoiling before I eat the cereal.

4. As a teenager, I spent my Friday nights in a marching band uniform and the rest of the weekend at horse shows.

I showed competitively in the American Quarter Horse Association shows in this state and the next one over. Some years I kicked ass, and some years I got my ass kicked. I'm glad I stopped showing and took time for myself once I graduated high school, but I always kind of miss that lifestyle.

5. I went clubbing in Russia when I was 16.

Bookworm, dorky, boring, never-do-wrong . . . and there I went. With my school's popular' girls and everything. Of course, they never talked to me again after that night (I think they asked me to go because I knew more of the language than all of them put together), but still. There I was, attempting to dance to funky techno in St. Peterburg's biggest nightclub. That is also the night we crammed 8 people into a Lada to get us back to our host families. Who had all encouraged us to go out. Ahh, Russia.

6. I got my first job when I was 13.

The family run, local ice cream and drive-in joint. Labor laws? Pshaw, who cares about those. That was one of the most fun jobs I've ever held (well, actually, I think all of my jobs have been fun - B&BW, hotels, nursery - they've all been fun in their own ways). Probably the fact that two of my best friends worked there as well boosted the fun-ness.

7. I am 7 pounds lighter than I was 10 years ago.

That's right. You can hate me. My driver's license has had the same weight on it since I got it, and here I am, wedding ring so loose I have to wear it on my middle finger and fitting into clothes I never thought I'd see again. All but one pair of my pants can be taken on and off without unbuttoning. I think I need to go shopping.

So. There's that. And now, I tag everyone who reads this :-) (Yes, I'm actually just that lazy that I don't want to have to single someone out - so tag! You're all it!)

Rockin'

2007-11-21T08:39:00.000-05:00

I like a little excitement in my life.

I'm on Top Momma, the bloggity popularity contest. So, help me be popular for once in my dorky life, and click this here button to keep me in the clique!

I promise genuine, intelligent, thought-provoking, deep and profound posts in return.

Well, maybe.

Or I'll just tell you about the mice that live on my balcony.

Wordless Wednesday

2007-11-21T01:09:00.001-05:00

7 Months

2007-11-17T21:19:00.000-05:00

The girly is 7 months old. Time is flying by.

We had lots of firsts today. Nothing like packing it all in at once.
~ First sign of teeth. They're through the gums. Not enough to write home about, but plenty to blog about.
~ First bad reaction to a food. Pluots (plum apricot cross). Not so great. I was actually saving them for later down the road, but grabbed a cube this morning thinking I had the bag of plum cubes. Apparently permanent marker is not permanent on freezer baggies. And apparently, E will not be getting these again, as she puked all over me, herself and the cat. (Yes, the cat - he smells pretty now.)
~First major bump on the head. A giant goose-egg, courtesy of the wall. Who knew those things were stationary.
~ First clapping. Or perhaps she was mocking her mother as she made a fool out of herself.
~ First pull-up to standing. Lord help us. Nothing is safe now.

They're furry, with zippers, and I love them!

2007-11-16T22:04:00.001-05:00

My husband rocks. Big time. This isn't just brownie points, this is like Coldstone's Birthday Cake Remix with Brownies points.

Generally, I protest any and every purchase the man makes. He likes to spend his money, I like to tell him not to. It's just the way it works in our house.

This time, however . . . wise, wise purchase he talked me into. (Okay, so I was all for this one from the beginning, but shhh, let's not ruin my record.) These boots are the absolute most comfortable things I have ever had on my feet. Stylish? Meh, I have no one to impress. They compliment my wispy ponytail and spit-up covered hoodie.

I haven't taken them off all day. (They're brand new, so they don't violate my OCD, no shoes in the house rule.) In fact, I'm sitting here right now with toasty toes . . . while the rest of me turns into an icicle.

Boots, boots, I love my boots!

How to Nap:101

2007-11-15T20:58:00.000-05:00

Step 1: Whine.
Step 2: Refuse to nurse.
Step 3: Refuse to lay down.
Step 4: Whine more.
Step 5: Follow Mommy into the bathroom while she does laundry.
Step 6: Whine more.
Step 7: Get comfy on cozy blanket with lots of toys.
Step 8: Realize Mommy is not listening to you and is going to take a shower.
Step 9: Whine more.
Step 10: Try to pull self up on shower curtain.
Step 11: Cry, because shower curtain is too slippery.
Step 12: Find blankie in clean clothes basket.
Step 13: Clutch blankie and suck thumb.
Step 14: Make Mommy wonder why you're so quiet.
Step 15: Pass out.
Step 16: Let Mommy take a super long, hot shower and then wonder how to get you to your crib and off the hard floor.

Back to 'real' life

2007-11-13T23:18:00.001-05:00

E and I are on our own again. M began his long trip back to the sandbox tonight. This last week was more than I could have ever hoped for, and I've spent a lot of time thanking God for me falling off that darn horse. M was a wonderful help and I barely had to lift a finger (aside from our new sport of E-wrangling - two people are just not enough to get a diaper on that kid). We're optimistically heading into this last leg of the deployment, with only around about a third of the 15 months left. Time is going to fly. I hope.

Really, Really Happy - All of Us

2007-11-05T22:06:00.001-05:00

M is home on emergency leave to help me recover, and E is loving her new playmate. Bonding time aplenty.

More spontaneous combustion

2007-11-03T19:04:00.000-04:00

Huge Decision = done

Outcome = Really, Really Happy

And to quote Forrest, "And that's all I'm going to say about that."

For now, at least.

Suspense. It's a wonderful thing.

I think my head may explode

2007-11-03T00:09:00.000-04:00

Spontaneous combustion. Without a doubt.

I'm surprising myself at being able to even type.

Just got off the phone with M and I'm beginning to think he may suspect just how few of my marbles I have left. Seriously. It was bad. I found myself stuttering and unable to put together complete sentences, let alone intelligent thoughts.

The little corner of my brain that handles stress is apparently malfunctioning right now.

The Huge Decision that is going to make me either Really Happy or Really Pissed is about to go down. Stay tuned.

Happiness is . . .

2007-11-01T23:19:00.000-04:00

Baby hands. Soft, gentle baby hands.

Putting E to sleep tonight was one of the more difficult nights we've had. The second she's out of the bath it's an all out war to get a diaper and pajamas on. No small feat with slow motion movement on this end. Add to the mix inconsolable sobbing, complete with crocodile tears and pauses to hack and sputter. Great for the stress level.

At one point, I could feel myself on that cry/scream/yell/bang your head against the wall point. I set the wriggling, screaming bundle of unhappiness down on her floor blanket and went into the bedroom and just screamed into my pillow. Got it all out.

When I came back to the living room, E was still sobbing, but now looking at me like "Why don't you love me, mama?"

Made me feel just wonderful. (sarcasm there, for those of you without that radar).

Finally I got her calmed down, fed and into bed. And she just laid there with her eyes wide open, staring at me. Like I was abandoning her or something.

Guilt is a powerful thing.

Out she came, and onto the bed we went. Snuggled up and face to face. As I was stroking her hair, mushing about how much I love her and how sorry I was I lost my temper, she reached her little hand up and stroked my cheek. And then reached out with her other hand and clasped my thumb.

So, there we were. Her hand on my face was the sweetest touch I've ever felt and, even just for a little while, made everything else disappear.

Jingle jangle

2007-10-31T23:34:00.000-04:00

There are certain toys of E's that I have a deep disdain for. The Learning Puppy is pretty high on that list. Nothing says freaky like hearing "Hug me!" or "That tickles!" coming from a box in your packed up house in the middle of the night.

However, one other particular toy ranks just a little higher on the annoyance scale than that song filled pup. The Clink 'N Chew Keys are the most annoying things in my house right now. If you so much as breathe in their direction, this fake jingling sound keeps playing. Over and over and over. And there is no off button. Heaven help us if E is almost asleep and I don't notice them on my way to put her down. That is one of her favorite noises. "Jingle jingle jingle" go the keys. "Play!" goes E, eyes wide open, ready for action.

Even worse though, is when those stupid keys become a new play toy for the cats. Sitting alone, in the faint glow of just the computer screen, and hearing "jingle jingle jingle" coming from under the dining table is enough to make me just about jump out of my skin. Clearly their basket full of feline appropriate toys is no longer appealing.

When they start playing with the toy piano and stacking rings, we may have to have an intervention.

Wordless Wednesday - Happy Halloween

2007-10-31T00:00:00.001-04:00

Happy Halloween from the cutest confectionery colored canine impersonator around :-)

In the holding pattern

2007-10-30T23:41:00.000-04:00

So . . . . . .

I am not a wuss.

According to the tech at my MRI that I had today, I'm in for a bit of a recovery time now, due to multiple fractures of my pelvis and sacral region.

I knew it.

Now, it's just a waiting game to see what goes down when the full report from the scan shows up at my doctors. Not that there is much that can be done besides chilling out and not doing anything dumb to hurt myself more. But, there is a possible silver lining to all this, which I may or may not be getting my hopes up about. Further posting on this subject will come once there is an outcome. I'll either be really really pissed, or really really happy.

In the meantime, E and I are hanging out around the house, both slightly cranky (a combination of teething and boredom on her part).

I cannot put into words how much I have missed my broadband. Cable, eh, I can do without. But man, it feels like I'm flying through the internet world again tonight.