Oh My Adulthood

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Wow.  Life.  It's gotten a little intense.

It has me asking all these questions like:

Am I a bad mom because I am only truly content when my kids are sleeping?

How can I lose 15 pounds while also drinking all the wine and eating only carbs?

When will I ever actually have a good nights sleep again?

How the FUCK do people have more than 2 kids?

You know, sweet stuff like that.

Adulthood is a tricky little bitch.  Adulthood is a series of lame victories like saving $400 on car insurance, only to then receive a $500 bill for medical expenses from your husbands vasectomy the very same day.  Adulthood is being totally ok with that damn unexpected bill because $500 is way less scary than having a 3rd child.  Plus I would spend way more than that on the wine I would have to drink to survive having another child.

And if adulthood is a tricky bitch, than parenthood is it's slutty little mistress.  So fun, so exciting, so new, but sooooo much baggage.

And by baggage I meant literal bags of human excrement.  All day every day.  The day I get to toss one of my diaper pails is going to be a good day.  It means I will be hauling 50% less human feces to the garbage every week!  Yay!  But I am far from that day.  The only progress I have had potty training Jack so far is when he wanted to go potty AFTER pooping in his diaper (unbeknownst to me) twice.  Which was messy.  And then saying, "I need treat" 4,fucking,000,000 times after that.

Parenthood also means thinking you are going to save money to buy a bigger house soon because your kids' shit is absoutely exploding from everywhere and your in laws have to sleep on the couch when they visit, but then realizing that spending your money on entertaining your kids and unloading them at preschool three days a week is WAY more life changing than more square footage, or even groceries for that matter.

The crazy thing about having two kids is that there is no such thing as down time anymore.  You can't pawn the one kid off on your spouse to be free because now there is always, always this OTHER kid that needs things.  And she can't walk or talk or eat sandwiches, despite how much she wants to, so you always have to hold her or make sure she doesn't swallow more than the safe amount of Play Doh and it's just absolutely exhausting.

So when your husband comes home, has a beer, then says he has a dry throat, then has a glass of wine, then says he needs to go to bed at 7pm without helping put the kids to bed, it isn't the best.  But then when he reappears when the kids go to bed to say that he thinks he has enough energy to eat half of a brownie, it's kind of the worst.  But it also means that you get the rest of the bottle of wine and to be alone for the rest of the night.  Which, if you are anything like me, is the closest you will get to paradise for the next decade.  So you sit back, drink that damn wine, watch that beautiful TV, and never forget that there is a half of a brownie somewhere in the kitchen.

And for today, that's enough.

 

So I married a white man

Does anyone else feel like they are constantly telling there husband to "Quit leaving your trident around the house!"

 

Note to self, clean the crap out of back door this weekend.

 

Or is it just me?

 

It's awkward when you have to explain it to him too.  You know, that's it's a "stab hazard".  The picture above was taken a week after I found it laying horizontal on a table in the garage.  Just waiting for some innocent person's stomach or baby's head to walk into it.

Getting Over It

I definitely just hit the point in my pregnancy in which I am over it.  I want this baby to be in my arms and my belly to go back to being as unremarkable as it's always been.

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I can't wait for a lot of things post-pregnancy:

- Being able to see the lower half or my stomach

- Being able to pee in a public restroom without accidentally farting*

- Being able to not weigh the same as a man of average height...who is also kind of fat

- Being able to drink alcohol

- Being able to eat Italian sandwiches

- Being able to sleep for more than 2 hours at a time without having to pee

- Being able to sleep on whichever quadrant of my body I choose

- Being able to mount or dismount a seat without grunting

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Oh, and being a mom!  I can't wait for that the most of all.  But I really, really want to not feel like a beached whale again.  

 

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This was me at dinner on Saturday.

 

Compared to my reflection now, when I look at old pictures of me on Facebook I am like, "Holy shit I was a freaking super model!".  Obviously that's a bit of an exaggeration, but it makes me want to tell my former non-ginormous self to lay off the fat comments to self and enjoy wearing regular pants with real pockets and even shirts that don't have elastic on the sides!

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*There's a reason why people tell you to wait until you are married to get pregnant.  It's not just about respecting your body and God.  It's because you need someone that is legally bound to you to stick with you through the multi-post-midnight bathroom interruptions, full body grunts, hormonal and emotional roller coaster rides, ice cream on your face, and involuntary body noises.  They should probably add an extra episode about that on MTV's Teen Mom.  If that doesn't cut teen pregnancy in half, nothing will.

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T-minus 6 weeks!

Wise Words from Ray Romano

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I saw Ray Romano come to the greatest realization on Wednesday night's Jimmy Kimmel Live.  This epiphany came after telling a story of his wife, who was asleep, getting mad at him for reading a book, because they were supposed to talk.  His defense was, rationally, that she was asleep. 

 

Her response: 

 

"Oooooh, so you just immediately pick up a book."

 

He said he realized this from the argument:

 

Women want you to focus on them...only every waking moment.  With laser focus.  Then, when they go to sleep, you should sketch them.

 

That way when they wake up, instead of being able to accuse you of not paying attention to them or slacking off, you can say, "Here, look at this beautiful picture I drew of you!"

 

Sounds simple enough!  Ray Romano you are a wise man.

Bye Bye Bath Mat

Recently I went in my husband's bathroom (I have to spot check it every once in a while to make sure we aren't violating any epic health codes).  I noticed that his bath mat was missing.

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I asked him about it and he replied, "Hmm, I don't know where it went.  Maybe my brother accidentally took it home with him."

Hold the phone.

First of all,  how in the name of the Martha Stewart Home Collection, could you possibly lose a bathmat?

Second of all, people don't "accidentally" take bathmats home with them, but great suggestion.

It's about 3 weeks and still no sign of the bathmat.  I'm actually so confounded by the loss that I am not even mad.  Kind of like when Baxter ate a whole wheel of cheese.  I guess I'll be heading to Bed, Bath, and Beyond this weekend for a replacement.  Will male wonders never cease?

RAOK - Random Act of Kindness

Natural Beauty

 

Look at these beautiful flowers my honey boo boo child gave me.  For no reason!

I can't remember what they are called, but they are my new favorite. 

So exotic!  So beautiful!  So much happiness!



Sissy Gettin' Married

My sister is getting married this weekend!!

I'm so excited and I can't wait to start off the weekend with some sisterly mani/pedis tomorrow! 

Nothing says marital bliss quite like a perfect stranger from Asia massaging your calves and making your nails shiny.

Since I can't afford to do anything drastic like hair extensions or colonics, and since it's not even my wedding, I have been sticking to a strict regimen of free samples from Kiehl's...for approximately 3 days.

I'm sure I'll be positively glowing by the time of the actualy "I Do's".

I also wrote a toast, dismissed it.  Wrote another toast, liked it.  And now, as I progressively get more and more nervous about giving it, I'm sporadically crossing off parts of it to make it shorter, so I don't drown in a pool of my own nervous sweat.

At this rate, by the time I give it it's going to be something like this:

"Hi, I'm the sister of the bride.  Love...Cheers!"

That way I can keep things short, awkward, and all about me.

So excited for dancing, laughing, and fun!!!

Future Love

My 2 year anniversary is in less than 2 months and it has made me think a lot about the future. It's really amazing to think that I will probably be married for about 60 years if I live to be 85ish. And I'm only 2 little years into that time frame. Daunting, isn't it!? Two years is nothing!

That is really crazy to think about! We've already had so much adventure and laughter and learning about each other. And it's only been 2 years! I just wonder how many more times we will make each other laugh, cry, and cry from laughing during the next 60 or so years. And maybe rage out a little bit sometimes too when I get mad. Gotta keep it interesting! (Again, assuming I don't get hit by a truck on my way home today.)

I can't wait to see what we're talking about when we are 70 and my boobs are at my waist and he can't hear because of ear hair interference. I bet it will still be about something epic like who gets the remote or what we are going to have for dinner. So far those are our big hot topics.

Mostly I think it will just be a little of this - http://whatshouldwecallme.tumblr.com/post/20768720920/when-my-boyfriend-leaves-for-work

And lot of this - http://whatshouldwecallme.tumblr.com/post/20818290289/fighting-with-my-boyfriend

Sleepy Wine

I have a theory that I am currently pursuing. It is this: "Red wine makes my husband snore".

Among his many, many amazing qualities, he was blessed with the gift of not snoring. This is ideal for me because I cannot even sleep with the sound of my own thoughts running through my head. Let alone the nasal congestion of another lying next to me.

Come to think of it, I don't even know if I originally cared about his personality. Once I realized he didn't snore I knew he had to be mine. That' always been a top priority for my Mr. Right...I kid.

Now there's a new dynamic to this dream quality. Apparently the kryptonite of not snoring is red wine. One glass is all it takes to make my silent life partner a veritable back-of-throat machine gun. Luckily this doesn't happen often, because he probably drinks about one week night a month (oh the horror!), but when it does happen it highly amuses me...and then makes me one cranky beotch from lack of sleep.

As long as he keeps to a bi-monthly maximum it will make me curiously giggle. And it means more wine for me!

Mr Fix It...Later

I grew up having a dad that liked to fix things. And even now, he's like the Tasmanian Devil of home improvements. Moving with a determination and speed that, although is probably not even safe with power tools, is much appreciated because he GETS. IT. DONE.

I'm used to that. And I am used to doing things in a timely manner. So this whole moving into a house and doing one improvement per day is not my ideal.

My husband built the great wall of China a closet for me, and although it really is a dream closet, the box that it came it said estimated assembly time is 59 minutes...It took him a week. And I think he's still pretty tuckered out from it.

Last night I tried to reason him into putting up a mirror for me, because I knew it would only take a minute or two. The mirror now works, but my reasoning did not. I tried to tell him that I think we are in pretty traditional marriage roles. I cook all of his meals and clean and do laundry and all of that stuff. He works a lot and hunts and, in a dream world, can fix everything the minute I ask him to!

Well I did not plan this argument well. A mere hour before I gave him this schpeel, I had insisted that we go to Hooters for beer and buffalo wings. And while it was delicious, it did absolutely nothing for my whole "we are traditional" argument.

He reminded me that traditional women don't beg their husbands to go to a place where the only thing bigger than the beers and wings is the bazongas on the women that serve them.

Point. Counterpoint.

I am slowly just getting used to not getting everything finished instantly. And I hate it. But I am realizing...GULP...my way is not always the best way and sometimes a man just needs to sit on his ass. And sometimes a woman just needs some damn buffalo sauce.

Situation Normal

Homeowning so far is awesome. And hard. And hilarious.

Remember that time my husband told me I looked like a newspaper?

Well he still says awesome things like that.

We were swimming in the pool this summer and he kind of held me up in the water. That inspired him to tell me that he would carry me across the threshold of our new house...if we could build a moat around the front door so that the water could displace my weight. Needless to say I did not do any further prancing around in my bikini after that swim. But I think he actually meant it in a nice way?

This past weekend I was out of town and left him to tend to a few home improvements in my absence. When I returned I asked him if he hung up the blinds.

His response: "Well, I started working on it and then I hit a SNAFU."

Me: "What was the SNAFU?"

Him: "...I started drinking wine and watching baseball."

Some call that a SNAFU. Some call that a terrible excuse to not do work. I call it hilarious.

Even though we still have nary a blind in our house, he makes me giggle so I can't get too mad.

Babies R'nt Us...yet

It's the dawn of a new era. I have a pregnant friend.

I have plenty of wonderful cousins and relatives who have adorable babies. But this will be my first real, my-age friend who is pregnant.

I am so unbelievably excited for her, and I am going to ask her every personal detail I can think of for my future experiences. But I am glad it's her, not me. At least for now.

I know that I know that I am not ready to have a baby for several "little reasons":

*I'm basically like a half-adult.

*The thought of not having an ice cold beer after work on a Friday makes me cringe.

*I don't even work on Fridays.

*I'm married, but haven't been for very long.

*I have a job, but I only work 3 days a week (best thing EVER, by the way).

*I live in a nice house. I live with my parents.

*I pay my credit card bill, but all the charges are from bars, hotel rooms from wedding weekends, or Jersey Mikes.

*Babies love me, but I think it's more because we are thinking the same thing than that I'm maternal.

I can't wait to have a baby in a few years, but I hope it hits me when I'm ready. Right now I am still wishing I was 22, just graduating from college, on the cusp of fresh awesome memories and zero responibilities, the tailend of my metabolism, and the ability to stay up past midnight drinking without wanting to die in the morning.

Baby, if you're out there. Sit tight. It's going to be a while.

It takes two

Yesterday my husband informed me that he bought a surfboard. I'd been trying to talk him out of it all summer, but now I'm glad he got the damn thing so he can stop talking about it.

He claimed he got a good deal because the owner was originally asking $550 and he got it for $450. I don't usually talk about specific dollar amounts because I think it's rude. But for the sake of impact, I had to here. Because guess what husband, that’s still a buttload of money.

If I wanted to buy a dress that was originally $1000 it wouldn't exactly be a "good deal" if I talked the seller down to $900. Anyway, the funniest apart about the whole conversation was what reaffirmed my notion that he should never, ever be a salesperson.

He actually said, "Oh, well maybe you could go out with me sometime. The guy who sold it to me said it was really great for couples' surfing." And, yes, he meant on the same surfboard. He was trying hard to make me feel good about that $550.

Yeeeah...No. I don't even swim in the ocean for fear of sharks, and I sure as hell am not about to linger out there for hours every afternoon while my husband learns how to surf with me on the board. That can't be good for our relationship. And I know I can't be good for his buoyancy.

Mrs. Awkward

Changing your name when you get married is so weird. I am definitely still trying to get used to it. I always feel like I have to explain myself when I meet someone that knows my parents or family, but don’t know that I’m related to them. Like, “I’m Jane Dear. I used to be Jane Doe. You might know my parents, John and Jane Doe. So basically I’m Jane Doe Dear. Part of the Doe family.” Oops, I’ve said too much.

That might make little sense, but basically I just live in an area where some people know my extended family and I feel the need to inform people that I am part of a real family, and not a random solitary transplant from planet “OH MY GOD I'M AWKWARD.”

The first time I felt really stupid about it was when I went with my parents and sister to my dad’s boarding school for a reunion sort of thing right after I got married. Everyone was John Doe, Jane Doe, and Sister Doe, and then here comes random ol’ me with this unmatched last name out of nowhere (My husband wasn’t there, to make matters me more awkward). Then I ended up sounding like a baby explaining like, “That’s my dad, and my mom, and my sister.” Like maybe I was reminding myself of my family tree because I’m so “simple” that I might get lost later and need someone to call my parents.

It didn’t help that I was wearing a blazer that made me look like the manager of a local Hampton Inn. People probably thought I crashed the party and was soliciting hospitality services.

I love my husband, adore his family, and feel like a confident, capable person with my new name. But I’m still thinking that a strong hyphen might have added to my ability to socialize.

Tara Does!

After a handful of syke-out engagements, Tara Reid got really married in Greece this past weekend.

Check out the article here.

T-Rein kept it classy with a bare midriff, a very fake looking ring, and what appears to be a gay husband.

I hope this last Tara. You, your messed up nipple, and your likely damaged liver deserve a nice guy to settle down with. Mazel Tov!

Funny Yummy White Trashy

Last night I made this luscious Buffalo-flavored Shrimp salad with all of my favorites - feta cheese, romaine lettuce, tomatoes, red onion, avocado, cucumbers, and light ranch.

When I put it down on the table my husband said, in all seriousness, "Yuuum! That looks like something you would get at TGIFridays!"

Alex, I'll take NOT A COMPLIMENT for $600.

At least it was delicious and healthy. So I didn't have to feel like a short-order cook and a redneck.

Abduction is Blind

For the 3rd time since being married for a year, I'm living by myself again. This time only for 4 weeks.

On the nights I don't ease my worries with lots of wine, I get kind of scared at night. I'm not going to lie!

Last night, after trying to sleep for about 3 hours, I just got up and went to the bathroom for something new to do. I didn't bother putting on my glasses.

I started thinking that if there was someone downstairs to get me, the only thing that would suck worse than being abducted is being abducted without your glasses on! Hostages have it bad enough already. To be a legally blind hostage would just be too much to handle.

2 more weeks and I'm out of my dumpy house and my nighttime solitude...and moving in with my parents! I assure you I won't get lonely there!

Love is not in the air

Without talking too much about my pseudo-rage and dissapointment of yesterday, I have a PSA for my few guy readers out there:

THE ONLY THING WORSE THAN FORGETTING AN ANNIVERSARY IS REMEMBERING IT AND DOING ABSOLUTELY NOTHING FOR IT.

This is made worse if it is a "milestone" anniversary like your first wedding anniversary.

On a budget? No excuses! Homemade cards are even acceptable and show that you care.

Homemade nothing, however, is not ok.

I Be Wed for one year

I can't believe it, but I've been married for almost a year! Sunday is the real anniversary.

It's really flown by.

This week is the first week we will have dual incomes since G-money is now gainfully employed. This week is also the last week we will have dual incomes, since I am leaving my job in a week and a half. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted!

Now I need to get myself a new job so we can wipe our butts with $20s have enough for basic necessities.

P.S. I bought my husband a gift and reminded him of the anniversary about 5 times. What do you want to bet that he gets me a 3-pack of nothing?! He may be an up-and-comer in the healthcare industry, but he's a dumbo when it comes to romance.

The Hotness Fatness

Due to some recent fatness and travels my husband and I have "let ourselves go", as they say.

I decided to try the South Beach Diet, starting today. My husband said he'd do it with me because he wants to lose weight also.

We had our weigh-in yesterday and each figured out how much weight we want to lose.

Everything was going great until about an hour later when he called me to ask what exactly he could eat (he is already living in Wilmington so he's on his own for groceries).

Upon learning that he couldn't eat fruit or bread or drink alcohol for 2 weeks, he immediately proclaimed that it was the stupidest diet ever and he wasn't going to do it.

Now I'm no expert dieter, as my thighs can attest, but I have never quit a diet the day before I've even started it.

Now you just know he is going to exercise and eat healthy for like a day and lose 20 lbs, while I go carb-free/alcohol-free/fun-free for 2 weeks and lose a half a pound. Nonetheless, boys are redonkulous and make no sense.

But they sure do make me laugh!