First off I want to tell you all that hot sauce on pumpkins, does work. The squirrels have stopped eating them!! WOoho0!
Second, I had to share a conversation that I had with my husband today. Remember, he's on day 7 of 13 that he has to be off work because of a medical issue stopping him from actually being physically able to do his work.
Him: What's up with your hair and make up?
Me: I'm testing it out for the Halloween party.
Him: You're doing a dry run of your hair and make up for a party?
Me: Yes
Him: Are you being a hooker for Halloween?
Me: WHAT?!?!.........................Yes.
Him: Really? (please note: he sounded excited when I said yes)
Me: Well, I'm being a Can-Can Girl...
Him: What the fuck is that?
Me: You know, corset, skirt with lots of colored ruffles, fishnets, old school boots...
Him: Is that a hooker?
Me: Kinda, I guess.
Him: Sweeeet!
Me: They were big in France and then kind of a thing in the old west.
Him: So you're being a French hooker?
Me: Yeah, I guess.
Him: Even better!
Me: Ya know, like that movie...
Him: What movie?
Me: Ya know that movie...with the Can Can Girls...
Him: Uhhhhhhhhhh...no.
Me: The frickin...with that chick that was married to Tom Cruise...the crazy red head...
Him: Uhhhhhhhhhh...no.
Me: YEAH! The frickin...shit...and she's sick and coughs up blood...
Him: She was a diseased hooker?
Me: HA! Uhm...
Him: Not good.
Me: She had TB.
Him: Sooooooooooo...she was diseased...and a hooker...she was a diseased hooker. Hope she didn't spread her diseased hookerness around.
Me: She sang. Then died. It was stupid.
Him: This conversation is stupid.
Me: You're stupid!
Him: I need to go back to work.
Me: Yup.
Him: Wanna do something fun at nap time (wink wink)
Me: You missed nap time
Him: What!? When?!
Me: When he was napping!
Him: Where was I?
Me: In the garage.
Him: You didn't come get me!
Me: I was busy
Him: Doing what?
Me: Not you...
Him: You suck.
Me: Mmmhmmm...
Can you feel it? The never ending, undying love!!
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Wordless Wednesday
I'm all over this photo thing on Wednesdays but no worries, I'll blog blog later :)
My heart is in the country. Things are simple, peaceful, patriotic, quiet, crime free and if you bring crime here God help you. These are from my current documentary photography project:
My heart is in the country. Things are simple, peaceful, patriotic, quiet, crime free and if you bring crime here God help you. These are from my current documentary photography project:
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
The Squirrel Project...Day 1
We have a problem...it's been a problem every year but this year I was hoping we could avoid it.
We can't. The stupid squirrels are eating our pumpkins!
I had an idea.
Yup. It's what it looks like.
Bathe the bastards in hot sauce!
So far, all I've learned is that flies really like hot sauce!
Tough Shit Tuesday
Tough shit is one of my favorite terms. It's hard, a pain in the ass, but you need to get over it. It does, however; suck when it's directed at me.
Even more so, I hate when I have 2 tough shit moments in one day!
So I'm totally stoked about having a Noodles and Co in DeKalb, IL now...no more driving to Geneva to get my fix of Pasta Fresca! I convinced my husband to hang in the car with the sleeping baby while I ran in to get myself some yummies for lunch. I get in there and there's a line a mile long. The Moose, doesn't sleep long in the car if it's not moving. Awesome-ism #1. When we finally get down to only one person in front of me I was excited. That is, until I heard her say "So..uhm...what's good here?"
FRICK!
The girl running the check, out who looked like she'd been drinking until 8am this morning, just stared at her and asked, "What do you like?"
I shit you not, the lady answered, "Well...I like noodles..."
SHUT UP! SHUT THE HELL UP! If you didn't like noodles would you go to a place called Noodles and Company?!? I think we effin know you like God blessed noodles!
This back and forth go nowhere banter goes on for about 4 minutes before I decided that this woman standing between me and my spinach, tomato, oily goodness had to move her ass out of my way before I started gnawing on my own arm out of hunger (yeah...the diet...not going so well...well it's going great if you consider looking at your dog as a nice piece of red meat normal).
I pipe up and say, "If you like spicy stuff get the Penne Rosa, if you don't then get the Pasta Fresca but for the love of God pick something or get the HELL out of line and let people who know what they want go!"
After she scowled at me for a second, she ordered the Penne. Of course, she went back and forth for another century about chicken or no chicken and roll vs flat bread...and thus my tough shit moment #1. Wanna get your food and get out fast? Tough shit cuz the idiots are out and eating noodles today!
After inhaling my food like a Hoover, we moved on. (PS. Thanks to my husband for feeding the baby while I was in Noodle Hell trying to get my order. XOXO.)
With our upcoming (God only knows when) impending move of doom, lots of unnecessary household items and old unplayed with toys have found a new temporary home @ a storage facility. It's supposed to be top of the line, climate controlled, high security, with a guarantee that you will always be able to 'easily access your unit without any problems'. Yeah. Right.
Now, let me just say, I have a respect for people who do jobs that I myself consider menial. Don't take that the wrong way, they're jobs someone has to do, but they're just...well...not for me. I did my time in bars, retail and tanning salons. The one thing it taught me is I don't want some bullshit, barely pays the bills, unable to respect myself, kinda job. That's why I work for myself, that's why I chase hurricanes and publish books. It's why I document the most important moments of people's lives. I just don't see myself wiping 30 something years old and someone else's sweat off acrylic or refolding the same pair of jeans 30 times in one day because people are too lazy to pull something out of a pile nicely.
That being said, I have respect ONLY for the people who do their menial jobs correctly and with a sense of pride in them. The property manager at the storage place...is NOT one of these people.
My 'unit' is not large enough (thank God that's not a problem at home!) which is issue #1 and of course, there are none of the next size up that are available...and the property manager is a BIATCH x 10 which is the second problem. This summer we had enough wasps around the units to scare Billy the Exterminator away. I very nicely (and trust...that doesn't happen often) went into her office, knowing damn well it's her job to maintain the property...and told her how bad the problem was and asked if someone could spray so I could get into my unit without having to dodge dip duck dive dodge the swarm of stingers coming at me. Ya know what she freakin said to me "it's not my problem".
Not your damn problem? WTH? How are the dinner plate sized wasp nests OUTSIDE the units not your problem? Do you understand the concept of manage? Does not the phrase "easily access...without any problems" seem to be in direct opposition to the phrase "holy fuck I almost got stung like forty seventy hundred times"?
Her next response: "someone sprayed a few days ago" followed by "I had to buy the spray myself" and then "yeah again, it's really not my problem". I called the corporate number and after they assured me that buying wasp spray and hosing my own unit was not necessary, they had the district manager call me. He called back later and said he would comp a few days off my bill and that the manager had been way out of line with me...great...she got in trouble, I'm sure she wont be a problem again. *eye roll*
So months go by and I go to my unit today and low and fucking behold...my lock had been cut off and one of their locks put on. Now, I may fly off my rocker at top speeds sometimes but I rarely do it without being provoked and never unless I'm 100% sure that I'm in the right. So I strapped my ass to the seat long enough to call the corporate number, have them verify that my payment had gone through and that even if it hadn't gone through my lock should not have been removed until the 20th of the month...today's the 19th...and find out what protocol is. Should I have not paid my bill and should I have come in after the 20th, they could have cut and replaced my lock with theirs until said bill was paid, but that was not the case.
I hung up with the very nice lady at corporate (after explaining what my situation was and having her apologize profusely and say she would notify the district manager immediately). I very calmly got out of my SUV, walked to the cargo area, removed the giant bolt cutters which I have with me at all times (don't ask why) and with gusto, I cut their lock off my unit while cussing up a storm. I realized that some lady and her husband were watching me with their jaws on the floor. When I turned and looked at them they both went quickly back to loading their truck.
Once all of my boxes had been placed in my unit, I rummaged through my tool box which happened to be with me and found a lock to replace the one the biatch manager had cut off...a titanium one no less...like to see her try to cut that bad boy off. Back into my car and up to the main office and breakneck speeds, ok more like 15 mph because its a small drive and there were people on both sides. I huffed into the office and just as she looked up, I tossed the lock at her. She caught it and her eyes went 10 ft wide. Guess she remembered what unit was mine. She exclaimed, "That is our property! I will have you fined for cutting that lock off! And I am going to contact..."
I cut her off, "Your district manager, John? Yeah nice guy. You wont need to contact him, I just got off the phone with him and he'll be calling you shortly. He's not real happy that you cut my lock off, although not as pissed as I am. My bill is paid. YOU submitted the payment to corporate which means you KNOW it's paid and even if it wasn't you are required to not only send me a notice if it's not paid but also call me neither of which you did."
She started to argue and I shut her down. "And let me tell you something," leaning over the counter toward her and getting very quiet and calm, "I am the LAST renter here you want to fuck with. I don't care about your job and the things in my unit are more valuable than your life. If I catch you fucking with my stuff again, I won't call your boss." She started to back up and I smiled a little, "Ya know, someone smart once told me that you should never wear a pendant on a leather strap, if it were to get hung up on something you could strangle yourself." Her eyes were as wide as open garage doors! What? I wasn't threatening her, I was just saying! I used to wear a quarter on a leather strap all the time.
As I turned to walk out I saw her touch her pentagram choker and it was all I could do to not laugh. Honestly, all that's in my unit is some furniture I don't really like anyway, a few rubber tubs of toys that the kids have outgrown but that I promised them we wouldn't throw away, a couple not so great paintings I did, and an old Kitty Kat snow mobile that doesn't even run. Gotta wonder if she's flipping through the want ads now trying to find a job where she won't have to interact with me or trying to figure out what is in my locker. There is a distinct possibility that all the SOA I've been watching lately has gone to my head. *shrug* whatever. I'm fairly certain that my stuff will be left alone. Hopefully it will be out of there soon. The fact still remains that a $20 lock that I paid for was cut off, I spent almost a half hour of my time there screwing around with calls to corporate and chewing out some broad who obviously has a God complex with her managerial title at her $8/hr job. Tough shit for me...wasted $20 and some time.
I guess that's life though. It's a Tough Shit Tuesday for me. Hopefully tomorrow will be better!
Even more so, I hate when I have 2 tough shit moments in one day!
So I'm totally stoked about having a Noodles and Co in DeKalb, IL now...no more driving to Geneva to get my fix of Pasta Fresca! I convinced my husband to hang in the car with the sleeping baby while I ran in to get myself some yummies for lunch. I get in there and there's a line a mile long. The Moose, doesn't sleep long in the car if it's not moving. Awesome-ism #1. When we finally get down to only one person in front of me I was excited. That is, until I heard her say "So..uhm...what's good here?"
FRICK!
The girl running the check, out who looked like she'd been drinking until 8am this morning, just stared at her and asked, "What do you like?"
I shit you not, the lady answered, "Well...I like noodles..."
SHUT UP! SHUT THE HELL UP! If you didn't like noodles would you go to a place called Noodles and Company?!? I think we effin know you like God blessed noodles!
This back and forth go nowhere banter goes on for about 4 minutes before I decided that this woman standing between me and my spinach, tomato, oily goodness had to move her ass out of my way before I started gnawing on my own arm out of hunger (yeah...the diet...not going so well...well it's going great if you consider looking at your dog as a nice piece of red meat normal).
I pipe up and say, "If you like spicy stuff get the Penne Rosa, if you don't then get the Pasta Fresca but for the love of God pick something or get the HELL out of line and let people who know what they want go!"
After she scowled at me for a second, she ordered the Penne. Of course, she went back and forth for another century about chicken or no chicken and roll vs flat bread...and thus my tough shit moment #1. Wanna get your food and get out fast? Tough shit cuz the idiots are out and eating noodles today!
After inhaling my food like a Hoover, we moved on. (PS. Thanks to my husband for feeding the baby while I was in Noodle Hell trying to get my order. XOXO.)
With our upcoming (God only knows when) impending move of doom, lots of unnecessary household items and old unplayed with toys have found a new temporary home @ a storage facility. It's supposed to be top of the line, climate controlled, high security, with a guarantee that you will always be able to 'easily access your unit without any problems'. Yeah. Right.
Now, let me just say, I have a respect for people who do jobs that I myself consider menial. Don't take that the wrong way, they're jobs someone has to do, but they're just...well...not for me. I did my time in bars, retail and tanning salons. The one thing it taught me is I don't want some bullshit, barely pays the bills, unable to respect myself, kinda job. That's why I work for myself, that's why I chase hurricanes and publish books. It's why I document the most important moments of people's lives. I just don't see myself wiping 30 something years old and someone else's sweat off acrylic or refolding the same pair of jeans 30 times in one day because people are too lazy to pull something out of a pile nicely.
That being said, I have respect ONLY for the people who do their menial jobs correctly and with a sense of pride in them. The property manager at the storage place...is NOT one of these people.
My 'unit' is not large enough (thank God that's not a problem at home!) which is issue #1 and of course, there are none of the next size up that are available...and the property manager is a BIATCH x 10 which is the second problem. This summer we had enough wasps around the units to scare Billy the Exterminator away. I very nicely (and trust...that doesn't happen often) went into her office, knowing damn well it's her job to maintain the property...and told her how bad the problem was and asked if someone could spray so I could get into my unit without having to dodge dip duck dive dodge the swarm of stingers coming at me. Ya know what she freakin said to me "it's not my problem".
Not your damn problem? WTH? How are the dinner plate sized wasp nests OUTSIDE the units not your problem? Do you understand the concept of manage? Does not the phrase "easily access...without any problems" seem to be in direct opposition to the phrase "holy fuck I almost got stung like forty seventy hundred times"?
Her next response: "someone sprayed a few days ago" followed by "I had to buy the spray myself" and then "yeah again, it's really not my problem". I called the corporate number and after they assured me that buying wasp spray and hosing my own unit was not necessary, they had the district manager call me. He called back later and said he would comp a few days off my bill and that the manager had been way out of line with me...great...she got in trouble, I'm sure she wont be a problem again. *eye roll*
So months go by and I go to my unit today and low and fucking behold...my lock had been cut off and one of their locks put on. Now, I may fly off my rocker at top speeds sometimes but I rarely do it without being provoked and never unless I'm 100% sure that I'm in the right. So I strapped my ass to the seat long enough to call the corporate number, have them verify that my payment had gone through and that even if it hadn't gone through my lock should not have been removed until the 20th of the month...today's the 19th...and find out what protocol is. Should I have not paid my bill and should I have come in after the 20th, they could have cut and replaced my lock with theirs until said bill was paid, but that was not the case.
I hung up with the very nice lady at corporate (after explaining what my situation was and having her apologize profusely and say she would notify the district manager immediately). I very calmly got out of my SUV, walked to the cargo area, removed the giant bolt cutters which I have with me at all times (don't ask why) and with gusto, I cut their lock off my unit while cussing up a storm. I realized that some lady and her husband were watching me with their jaws on the floor. When I turned and looked at them they both went quickly back to loading their truck.
Once all of my boxes had been placed in my unit, I rummaged through my tool box which happened to be with me and found a lock to replace the one the biatch manager had cut off...a titanium one no less...like to see her try to cut that bad boy off. Back into my car and up to the main office and breakneck speeds, ok more like 15 mph because its a small drive and there were people on both sides. I huffed into the office and just as she looked up, I tossed the lock at her. She caught it and her eyes went 10 ft wide. Guess she remembered what unit was mine. She exclaimed, "That is our property! I will have you fined for cutting that lock off! And I am going to contact..."
I cut her off, "Your district manager, John? Yeah nice guy. You wont need to contact him, I just got off the phone with him and he'll be calling you shortly. He's not real happy that you cut my lock off, although not as pissed as I am. My bill is paid. YOU submitted the payment to corporate which means you KNOW it's paid and even if it wasn't you are required to not only send me a notice if it's not paid but also call me neither of which you did."
She started to argue and I shut her down. "And let me tell you something," leaning over the counter toward her and getting very quiet and calm, "I am the LAST renter here you want to fuck with. I don't care about your job and the things in my unit are more valuable than your life. If I catch you fucking with my stuff again, I won't call your boss." She started to back up and I smiled a little, "Ya know, someone smart once told me that you should never wear a pendant on a leather strap, if it were to get hung up on something you could strangle yourself." Her eyes were as wide as open garage doors! What? I wasn't threatening her, I was just saying! I used to wear a quarter on a leather strap all the time.
As I turned to walk out I saw her touch her pentagram choker and it was all I could do to not laugh. Honestly, all that's in my unit is some furniture I don't really like anyway, a few rubber tubs of toys that the kids have outgrown but that I promised them we wouldn't throw away, a couple not so great paintings I did, and an old Kitty Kat snow mobile that doesn't even run. Gotta wonder if she's flipping through the want ads now trying to find a job where she won't have to interact with me or trying to figure out what is in my locker. There is a distinct possibility that all the SOA I've been watching lately has gone to my head. *shrug* whatever. I'm fairly certain that my stuff will be left alone. Hopefully it will be out of there soon. The fact still remains that a $20 lock that I paid for was cut off, I spent almost a half hour of my time there screwing around with calls to corporate and chewing out some broad who obviously has a God complex with her managerial title at her $8/hr job. Tough shit for me...wasted $20 and some time.
I guess that's life though. It's a Tough Shit Tuesday for me. Hopefully tomorrow will be better!
Monday, October 18, 2010
Mushy Monday?
Hey everyone! Sorry I haven't blogged much the last week.
I want to start by saying how excited I am to be one of the featured bloggers this week at www.theskinnyscoop.com. If you haven't been to that site you should check it out! It's like coffee time with your girlfriends...but online and with lots of pink text. You can post questions, get ideas for all sorts of stuff and chat with 'friends'. I am pretty new to it but have already started to take advantage of some of what the site has to offer and I dig it. Plus its a freebee site so I'm totally down with that!
Being a featured blogger this week I will try try try my best to blog every day...that being said my husband is still home sick and for this entire week! He can't drive but is enjoying making fun of me for blogging...the good news, I have a built in babysitter for my blogging time! The bad news...he's getting really stir crazy in the house so I might have to find some outings for us to do with the baby boy.
If you're new to my blog, I write about a little bit of everything. I tried my damnedest to avoid being domesticated and had no plans for a husband or kids...now married with 4 children and a stay at home/work from home mom, I blog about my attempts to avoid doing the laundry, the ridiculous shit that I see during the day, things that urk me, and sometimes relationship stuff. Sometimes I'm flowery and mushy, sometimes I'm a down right bitch. Love it or leave it.
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
So let me just say that I don't normally do the mushy lovey blogs very often. But I have to admit that with my anniversary coming up this Sunday and my husband on day 5 of being home and unable to drive, I've been doing some reflecting on the past and I'm feeling a bit sentimental.
I am 31 1/2 years old. I have known my husband and had a relationship with him of one sort or another for, get this...17 years. SEVENTEEN FREAKIN YEARS! That's more than half of my life!!
Now I'm sure that more than one of his ex's is probably reading this...some as friends, some not so much. So let me qualify my statement of "relationship of one sort or another" for you all and take you on a little trip down memory lane...well more like memory washboard super bumpy dirt road.
I met the man who would become my husband, when I was 14 years old and man was he a piece of ass (still is)! He had a body like Beckham; washboard abs, tight pecks, incredible arm and back muscles. Yeah, he was yummy. (I have a shirtless photo of him that I'd love to share, but I can't for fear that shirtless photos of me would magically appear on the web then!) It was the height of the grunge era and he had the long hair and facial scrub, ripped jeans and beat old Vans with a flannel...I loved it! He was dating someone I had known since 1st or 2nd grade when I met him (waves to Melissa...she's his ex and a friend). High school love is fickle and it wasn't long before we were dating. Ok, Ok...depending on who tells the story, I may or may not have had a direct hand in his break ups with between 1 and 4 different women over the course of 12 years on up to but not exceeding 6 different occasions. Confused yet? Good!
I want to start by saying how excited I am to be one of the featured bloggers this week at www.theskinnyscoop.com. If you haven't been to that site you should check it out! It's like coffee time with your girlfriends...but online and with lots of pink text. You can post questions, get ideas for all sorts of stuff and chat with 'friends'. I am pretty new to it but have already started to take advantage of some of what the site has to offer and I dig it. Plus its a freebee site so I'm totally down with that!
Being a featured blogger this week I will try try try my best to blog every day...that being said my husband is still home sick and for this entire week! He can't drive but is enjoying making fun of me for blogging...the good news, I have a built in babysitter for my blogging time! The bad news...he's getting really stir crazy in the house so I might have to find some outings for us to do with the baby boy.
If you're new to my blog, I write about a little bit of everything. I tried my damnedest to avoid being domesticated and had no plans for a husband or kids...now married with 4 children and a stay at home/work from home mom, I blog about my attempts to avoid doing the laundry, the ridiculous shit that I see during the day, things that urk me, and sometimes relationship stuff. Sometimes I'm flowery and mushy, sometimes I'm a down right bitch. Love it or leave it.
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
So let me just say that I don't normally do the mushy lovey blogs very often. But I have to admit that with my anniversary coming up this Sunday and my husband on day 5 of being home and unable to drive, I've been doing some reflecting on the past and I'm feeling a bit sentimental.
I am 31 1/2 years old. I have known my husband and had a relationship with him of one sort or another for, get this...17 years. SEVENTEEN FREAKIN YEARS! That's more than half of my life!!
Now I'm sure that more than one of his ex's is probably reading this...some as friends, some not so much. So let me qualify my statement of "relationship of one sort or another" for you all and take you on a little trip down memory lane...well more like memory washboard super bumpy dirt road.
I met the man who would become my husband, when I was 14 years old and man was he a piece of ass (still is)! He had a body like Beckham; washboard abs, tight pecks, incredible arm and back muscles. Yeah, he was yummy. (I have a shirtless photo of him that I'd love to share, but I can't for fear that shirtless photos of me would magically appear on the web then!) It was the height of the grunge era and he had the long hair and facial scrub, ripped jeans and beat old Vans with a flannel...I loved it! He was dating someone I had known since 1st or 2nd grade when I met him (waves to Melissa...she's his ex and a friend). High school love is fickle and it wasn't long before we were dating. Ok, Ok...depending on who tells the story, I may or may not have had a direct hand in his break ups with between 1 and 4 different women over the course of 12 years on up to but not exceeding 6 different occasions. Confused yet? Good!
 |
| Sophomore Year in High School - Yup...Piece 'o' Assss! |
High school. Land of making out in the hall ways, late evening trips to the dog kennel (because he would walk to my house to see me), and ditching ACT prep class to go to Taco Bell with him (it's cool, I still got a 28). We were THAT couple, the ones that were looked at as inseparable...and probably a little psychotic. God help any girl who even looked at him, and he was equally vicious when it came to guys talking to me. We had arguments that, had we been given access to ammo, would have rivaled the world wars and yet when we touched it was all fire and lightening. Riding the bus became cool to me because he rode the same one. We were on again, off again, but even in our off agains...and even when dating other people, we couldn't stay apart for long.
It's hard to believe that was so long ago. The memories are still so vivid.............................sorry...got lost in a particularly fun to relive memory!
When something happens that forces you apart *Cough*parents*Cough* it makes things hard. Senior year we were extra off again on again but by the next year, it was on again. I started college. We were still on because I lived at home while going to school. Early in the year just before I turned 19 he proposed. I said yes. What I really meant was "Yes as long as you mean someday...eventually...no rush," but when the words 'family' and 'baby' and 'kids' came out of his mouth a few weeks later...it was 'hit me with some Xanax' panic time! Most people walk away and take some time to re-evaluate...I uhm...got on a plane to Africa. Yup. I ran OUT OF THE COUNTRY! Dumb move too...by the time I got back, he wouldn't talk to me. Such is life.
Now, I said we had a relationship of one sort or another...this was the other. We had gone our separate ways but when hearts are as tied as ours were...not a day goes by that you don't think about the other person. Every guy I dated was compared to him. Trust me, I had my fair share of boyfriends, short term and long. Not a one could hold a candle to him. There was this one guy who I was good friends with but never dated, though I always had a thing for him...but he turned out to be more douchetastic than most of them. Turns out that all that time we were apart, the women he was with were falling short of living up to my legacy.
And as I have said a million times before, let it go, if it's really yours it will come back and come back it did...sort of.
See, people talk. People who know people you used to date talk even more. They love to fill you in on the sordid little details of what your exes are doing, where they are, how they are and especially when they've taken leave of their current relationship. So MAYBE I made a call and had someone make a call that I knew would result in a returned call to me...from him...that is, if he was in the market, as it were. And it took less than 24 hours to get that call.
I might talk or blog about how to have a good relationship but I don't even talk about how to have a relationship like mine. Why? Because it's not fair. A friend of mine recently said she wanted for her and her husband to act/talk/touch/and generally 'be like' my husband and myself. She wanted to know how we were so close. How many people can say they knew who their soul mate was when they were 14 and not be full of shit? Not many. *shrug*
I could tell you where I was when the phone rang. I could tell you what song I was listening to. I could tell you that I don't answer numbers I don't know; so it was weird that I looked at the phone, sat it down, and then picked it back up and looked again...and answered it. What I couldn't tell you to any level you can understand; is how my heart raced when I heard "Hi." all nonchalant on the other end. Or how my stomach flipped so hard that it almost made me ill. Or how I felt the same fire just hearing his voice that I remembered from so many years earlier. So; a call, and a job, and an unexpected evening hanging out together and the rest is history.
I'm sitting here typing, hearing his voice from the other room and it warms my heart. I see him standing or walking or sitting and it makes me smile knowing he is here, with me. I wouldn't be anywhere else in the world. Not chasing hurricanes, not chasing tanks, not traveling the world. I've done that. Not even the rush of beating CNN and Fox News into a ravaged area by 24 hours to document holds a candle to the happiness I feel here.
It's just so surreal to me that after all that the world has done to split us up and keep us apart, it wasn't enough. And trust me...it's insane that it's been 17 years today since the day he said he and Melissa had broken up and only 6 days short of the 17 years since the day we started dating. We took a Wednesday off work 3 years ago to say our vows in the court house on the date we wanted to have as our wedding...the anniversary of the day we started dating 14 years earlier. Aww! Sentimental and mushy...as promised. My feelings for him have only gotten stronger. No worries...I won't be running off to Africa any time soon ;)
 |
| As Mr. & Mrs. |
Featured Blogger
I'm totally stoked to be a featured blogger this week at www.theskinnyscoop.com and I promise a nice long blog this afternoon (as soon as I get back from taking my hubby to the doc again!).
Keep posted...I'm goin' all sentimental today :)
Keep posted...I'm goin' all sentimental today :)
Friday, October 15, 2010
Loss Blog
I try not to be serious, at least not in a way that is a downer...but today is October 15th which is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness & Remembrance Day. Yeh...hard to be upbeat about that one!
As a general rule I don't talk much about my loss. It's not something that haunts me or that I even thing about weekly much less daily. For me it's simple. Cells didn't split right, it wasn't the right time, God needed an angel by his side...whatever the reason, our first little one was not meant for this world.
Like I said, I rarely talk about it, but this is the story.
In June of 2008 I went off birth control because my hormones were all whacked out from being on it for...oh like 11 years straight. My husband and I had just been married and we agreed that while we were not going to try to get pregnant, if it happened it happened. We had been talking for a while about adding to our already crowded home with a child that would be mine in the biological sense, and figured if it was our time, we would welcome a babe with open arms.
Sometime that year, and I'll be honest, I don't remember when, my father had been diagnosed with CLL, a form of Leukemia. CLL is what they call a "wait and watch" cancer, and while it may contribute to a life threatening situation; it acts more as an immune disease than a cancer so he would "die with it, not from it"...comforting in a sense.
Fast forward to September of that year. I was on a photography trip in Mississippi with my mother when we received a call from my father that my grandma, whom we were all super close to, had been admitted to the hospital. We cut our trip a day short and headed home. Once home, a few weeks passed before they confirmed that her heart failure was in it's last stages and there was really nothing they could do. My grandmother was placed in Hospice care. October 7th was a Tuesday and my mom and I headed down to meet up with my father who was already with my Grandmother. I spent a really nice 4 days with her, great conversation, some laughs...the kind of time that you can only wish to have with someone in their last days here.
While we were with her in the hospital, my dad fell ill. Kidney stones. Not the end of the world...but when doing a CT scan for the stones, they discovered a football sized mass in his abdomen. Forgive me Grandma, because we all kept it from her. She didn't need that stress...nor the stress of my sister and her boyfriend having an epic battle in the parking lot of Quizno's over car keys...but that's a story for another time.
No worries, my dad is fine now. A few rounds of chemo, some heart stopping, a pace maker, an almost deadly round with pneumocys....ya know, I can't spell it but its a really really rare pneumonia...and he's as good as new now.
Back to the story. The afternoon of October 11th I had to very very reluctantly, leave my Grandmother's side and say goodbye. It was a long 4 hour drive home alone, but it gave me some time to reflect on my life with her...and the fact that I was pretty sure that I was pregnant. Without birth control pills to take every day to track the month (yeah yeah, I know...it's called a calendar) I had lost track of the weeks but thought I was late for Aunt Flo's visit that month. I also had this insane massive breakout that almost resembled a rash all over my face...my mom said she couldn't see it, but I had tiny little bumps all over my cheeks, chin and forehead. I knew something was up.
When I arrived home on Saturday, I told my husband that I thought we might have a little one on the way. He was excited. The next morning, I tested positive...I was pregnant! I totally suck at these surprise things...and my way of announcing it to my love was "yeah uhm...there's 2 lines...so that's a yes." Romantic, no?
I was excited, so was he.
The next day my mom came out to visit. I couldn't resist the urge to tell her, she looked genuinely shocked! That afternoon my dad called to say Grandma was not doing well and it would not be long before she went home to God. I told him, I figured everyone could use a pick me up. He laughed. I told him to tell Grandma and he said "hell no! She'll hold on for another 9 months!!" but he did tell her. The last thing my dad heard my Grandma consciously and clearly say was (after a small chuckle) "Good Lord, someone better help that poor girl, she's gonna need it!" (Side note to Grams: I'm doing just awesome handling 4 kids! I don't need help...I learned from the best parents and grandparents in the world!)
My Grandma passed away the next day.
I called my doc and went in to see her right away and she confirmed that I was pregnant. I didn't know much about pregnancy...I didn't know about levels and betas and HCG and all that fun stuff. All I knew was I had to go back in another week for blood work and the week after that for an ultrasound.
On the way to Grandma's funeral, we decided that since the kiddos were so down about, we should tell them the exciting news. Bummer a few weeks later when we found out we lost the baby...but the experience of losing Grandma, the joy of the baby, and losing the baby really brought our family closer together.
At 5 weeks and 6 days I got to see the little one, even as just a little bean looking thing. At 7 weeks 6 days I got to see it's little heart flickering. Only 2 days later, it's heart stopped. I didn't know. I didn't know for a while. It wasn't until 8 weeks and 5 days that I realized something might be wrong. It started as spotting, but right after an exam so I didn't think much of it. It was Friday afternoon and my doc had left that afternoon (literally RIGHT after my apt) for Egypt and would be gone for 2 weeks. I saw the doc taking her place the following week on Monday and it was a horrific experience.
All I can say is this. The doc told me that she wished I would have come in the next day because her ultrasound tech was off and she herself had "not done an ultrasound in over 8 years". Then proceeded to tell me that she "couldn't see a heartbeat" but she advised that I wait until my doc got back before I do anything. She said if I started spotting heavy and had any pain, to call and she would write me a script for pain killers. It was a few days later when I began contracting...the date was November 26th, the day before Thanksgiving.
I toughed out Thanksgiving dinner at the in laws and then at my parents. I toughed out the next few days.
It would be my luck that I was ok until that weekend...when that doc was off and a totally different doc was taking her calls...a doc who had never seen me or heard of me and refused to write a script for pain meds. She told me to go to the ER if I was in a lot of pain, but I knew from talking to some really great girls on thebump.com that if I did that, the ER doc would likely push me to have a D&C procedure done...and I didn't want to do that without seeing my doc who I trusted and hearing her say it was really over.
Over the weekend the contractions got so bad that I felt nauseous at times and thought I was going to black out once. By Sunday morning they were every 3 minutes, steady full on labor contractions. How awesome is that...10 weeks pregnant, with a baby who was likely not alive anymore...contracting for what had now been 5 days. Yeah...this is why I have NO sympathy for the "OMG...it took like 4 hours before I could have my epidural" women. SUCK IT UP you whiny bitches!
On Sunday night I broke down. I called my doc at her home and left a message on her voice mail. Yeah, we're close like that. She called me before she even took off her coat from her trip home from Egypt. She told me to call her at any point that night if I needed her, and to be at her office at 9am. In true typical my life form...we had an epic ice storm that night. I got up 3 hours early for what should have been a 45 minute drive. It took me 4 hours to get to her office. When I finally arrived she had bad news...it didn't look good. I was already mentally prepared for what that day would hold, but I was still hoping that things were ok (I knew better...someone could have stabbed me and I would have bled less).
After an ultrasound confirming that the baby was no longer living, we scheduled me for the D&C that evening. I called my husband and went to my parent's house to spend the day because no way in hell was I driving home in that ice and then back into town.
After the D&C we picked up the kids at my in laws and headed home. There were lots of questions, lots of tears and lots of opportunities to talk to them about God, Heaven, and how life works.
Like I said, I don't live my life thinking about the baby we lost. We had chosen both a boy and a girl name, but since it was so early on and we didn't know what the sex would have been, we named the babe a unisex name: Teaghan. I threw in the middle name Cherish because I will always cherish our lost little babe in my heart. I know that somewhere in heaven my Grandma is rocking little TC and smiling down at us now as she sees the joy our Moose has brought us. For those of you just now experiencing this type of loss...it DOES get better. Does it ever go away? No. And it shouldn't! But is typing this the 1st time I have teared up about TC in over a year...yes. Sometimes things aren't meant to be. Sometimes, at least I believe, a child is conceived in such pure and totally unadulterated love that it is too pure for this world. Our TC was one of those babies. I keep a journal that I was writing to TC. I don't read it or open it, but it's there and it's comforting.
So today on National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Day, I tell a story that I avoid telling when at all possible.
But the stories of loss DO need to be told. People need to be educated. Know to ask questions about your pregnancy and understand that AT LEAST 1 in 4 (they estimate closer to half) of all pregnancies end in miscarriage or pregnancy loss. You're not alone. I am the face of loss.
Scars tell us where we have been in life, they don't have to determine where we are going.
Teaghan Cherish
12/1/08
Always in our hearts...this is your candle today.
TC's tattoo:
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)