About 30 minutes ago, I posted a super friendly generic version of my new year's eve post. But since this is the last post I will have in 2012, and I have been fairly nice in all of the rest of them, let me get real in this one.
My one huge wish for 2013 is to become a mom. I want the whole shebang. I want to be pregnant, I want to decorate a nursery and bicker lightly with Ian over the final details of baby names. I want to bawl my eyes out when I hear my baby's heartbeat for the first time, when I see the first ultrasound, when I find out the gender. I even want the hours of grueling labor because that will mean that I HAVE DONE IT. I am a mom, I have done what millions of women before me have done.
I was going through old schoolwork of mine that my mum kept for me and I found my kindergarten stats sheet. Listed under "what I want to be when I grow up?" A mom. (Actually mine says "my mum" but you get the point). So for at least 19 years of my life, this is what I have wanted. That's 19 years of solid dedication to this wish.
What I don't want is useless advice or "funny" anecdotes. What is useless advice you ask? Well let me enlighten you. I don't want to be told that it would take me a while (trust me, no one realizes this more than me), or that I will get pregnant when I stop trying to get pregnant. I don't want to continuously hear about how easy it was for you to get pregnant or how it was a total oops moment, hahahaha! I am happy for those who get pregnant quickly, I really am! There are just a few people on my social media who like to throw it in my face all the time. I hate that. And don't get me wrong. I love people's updates about their pregnancies and their babies. I really do. It's a super exciting time in your life, you're growing a baby! It's when it's multiple times (read 5 or more) a day that it starts to grate on my nerves. Or when they say "If you're not a parent, you don't know what true love is." I hate that saying, I really do. I truly love my husband. Unconditionally. For better or worse.
But the biggest thing I do NOT want to hear from anyone EVER again? "In my personal opinion, because I have been there, I would wait. You never regret waiting." I am sure I don't, but I will never regret having my child either. And I haven't had anyone who is actually in my situation say that to me. My situation is as follows: I am in my mid twenties, I have been married to my high school sweetheart for four years, and we dated for three years before that. That is seven years with the same man. I have a great job that I love doing, and my husband has an awesome job that could support both of us should I decide to be a stay at home mom (which is what both Ian and I want). We both have running vehicles, even if they aren't brand new or gorgeous. Neither of us owes any debt on either of our cars. We own our home, which is not a dump, and we live in a safe and quiet neighborhood that would be great to raise kids in. We are both in stellar health, and the most addictive substance that has me in its vices is Wild Cherry Pepsi. I know, I know, I should attend a Sodaholics Anonymous meeting or something, right?
I don't mean to offend the kind and supportive people in my life at all. And if you're reading this and thinking "I have never-!" Then you probably haven't and this isn't for you. This is for the people who have ever made me feel like I am not a real woman because I am not a mom yet, or that I am doing something wrong if I am not pregnant yet. This is for anyone who has ever uttered the words "Even if you're never a mom..." to me. Don't even go there. Don't put that negativity on me. I don't need it.
And for those of you who read this whole thing and don't think I am the scum of the earth, thank you. Thank you for understanding that sometimes I need to be able to rant about things that upset me.
Now after I get off of work, I am going to go home, get into pjs and park my butt on my couch with a book and season five of Bones. I am not a party girl or even a regular drinker. It's a big deal that I am even contemplating staying up until midnight, and I will do that on my terms. My terms include captain america sleep pants, a doctor who nightshirt, fuzzy socks, and my TARDIS blanket.
Happy New Years my lovely readers!!
Monday, December 31, 2012
Thursday, December 27, 2012
I haven't forgotten you, my lovelies...
I hope everyone had a happy Christmas! I sure did. There was a small drama bloop on the sunday morning before christmas where I ended up in tears because people should be more considerate of the difficulties of other people...but I am not going there because I don't want to end up upset again.
Ian, the furbabies and I were very blessed to be into our new house (if not settled all the way) by Christmas. We had taken down the tree at the apartment, and never put it back up, nor did we put up any Christmas decorations, but it was festive nonetheless. We began the day by watching the Queen's christmas message and ended it with the Doctor Who christmas special, and in between was full of little naps, presents, and food! Lots of food!
This is just a short little blip of a post to let you know I am still here and alive, but busy with unpacking and organizing and getting ready for the new year. I hope to post a new year's eve blog of monday, so fingers crossed that I get time!
TTFN! Tata for now!
Ian, the furbabies and I were very blessed to be into our new house (if not settled all the way) by Christmas. We had taken down the tree at the apartment, and never put it back up, nor did we put up any Christmas decorations, but it was festive nonetheless. We began the day by watching the Queen's christmas message and ended it with the Doctor Who christmas special, and in between was full of little naps, presents, and food! Lots of food!
This is just a short little blip of a post to let you know I am still here and alive, but busy with unpacking and organizing and getting ready for the new year. I hope to post a new year's eve blog of monday, so fingers crossed that I get time!
TTFN! Tata for now!
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
My tooth has left the union and an equally ridiculous story of oral surgery
When I was 16, I made the trek back to Dodge City to attend my wisdom tooth removal surgery. Unfortunate events occurred (read: stomach flu) and, in fear of me throwing up on my surgeon, my surgery was canceled. This did not appear to be a huge deal because over the next few years, all four of my wisdom teeth grew in miraculously straight and it appeared to be a sign from God that I should never have oral surgery again. More on that in a minute.
Over the past week, my lower right wisdom tooth has been aching a little. Now you need to understand that I am very OCD when it comes to the health of my mouth and teeth. You don't go through surgery and four years of braces and expect to come through without a little PTSD. I brush my teeth twice a day, every day and on days my teeth feel a little grimy, three times a day. I floss, I use mouthwash. I inspect my teeth for possible cavities often. I am very very careful with my teeth. So to have a sore mouth caused by a tooth is a major freak out moment for me. The first day I inspected it, it looked like my gums were a little swollen back there, so I lightly massaged them with my brush a few times that day and for the following day. It got a little better, so I stopped worrying about it. Then yesterday, I woke up with the whole right side of my face lightly swollen and I was again worried. This time when I looked in my mouth, the impossible appeared to have happened. My gums are not swollen, my wisdom tooth is receding! And it's receding crookedly, pushing the side of it into my jawline and cheek. On my lunch break yesterday I called a dental office and asked if this was, indeed, possible. Apparently it is because wisdom teeth are wicked little creatures with minds of their own. So now I have to go get all my wisdom teeth thoroughly examined and quite possibly removed. And if the crazy tooth doesn't come up back up, that will require oral surgery. Which I HATE. And here's why.
When I was preparing to get braces, Dr Ackerman realized that my mouth (much like the rest of my body) was tiny. Too small, in fact, to fit all the teeth that were growing in. So I had to set an appointment to have two bottom teeth removed and two top teeth removed. That would have been no big deal, but my top teeth were indignant. They stood their ground and refused to move, stating "we are too cool to leave this mouth." In normal person speak, this means that the roots of my teeth were actually hooked into my sinus and to merely pull them would resort in more surgeries than needed because then they would need to repair my sinus region. It was ultimately decided that I would need to have surgery to remove these teeth, no big deal, right? Wrong. I was terrified of surgery. What if I never woke up? Nonetheless, mum's final word was law in our house, and she said my teeth were being removed surgically.
The day of the surgery, I got to skip school (yay!) and on the way to the clinic, I asked mum if we could go to the library and sonic afterwards. She kind of did this little half laugh, and said sure, if I felt up to it after the surgery. I took this as a yes, because why wouldn't I feel like it?
Skipping all the boring details of signing in and getting to the good stuff, they hooked me up to all the tubes and a nurse took a nasty looking long needle and inserted it into my IV and asked me to count backwards from 10. The last number I remember was 9, so that was probably a sign of the future issues I had.
I am assuming (and would not like to hear otherwise) that the surgery itself went fine. It was the waking me afterwards that caused problems. As in, I wouldn't wake up. They went out and got my mum, and from what I am told, it even took her some time to get me conscious.
The first thing I remember was the clouds on the ceiling, with the cowboys and indians chasing each other. I tried to tell my mum about them, but there was so much gauze in my mouth, and it just kind of hung upen and wouldn't close and the drugs were definitely prohibiting any real human speak. Also I might mention there were no cowboys or indians on the ceiling. Or clouds. I am pretty sure it was just a plain white ceiling when I was put under and I seriously doubted they painted all of that in the hour I was down for the count.
Me: Mum, look, the cowboys are chasing the indians in the sky
Mum: umm...un huh, sweetie, you need to wake up. Can you open your eyes a little more?
Me: No, my eyes are fine. Do you see the cowboys?
Mum: That's nice, honey. Now we are going to get you home, okay? I have to leave for a second. I am going to get the car. I will be right back. (my drug addled brain did not recognize this sentence as actual words so I had no idea what my mum was doing)
Me: But the indians! And the clouds!
At this point, my mother had left the room to pull the van around to the side of the building so that I didn't freak out the rest of the patients in the waiting room with my crazy mouth face. The two nice male dental assistants helped me walk (read: basically carried me) to the side door, where my mother was waiting. Unfortunately for them, they also had a supplies van waiting there as well, and I couldn't see my mum's van at first, so I freaked out on them as much as a ninety pound pre-teen girl could freak out on two physically fit mid twenties men. I was sure they were kidnapping me for ransom and I just couldn't allow that. My mum hurried over to calm me down and with a little bit of struggle, we got me safely loaded into the waiting vehicle and on my way home.
Everything was fine until we passed the library.
Me: Mum! Where are you going? The library, you said, I feel fine!
Mum: No, Angie, you don't. You don't make any sense, your entire face is swollen and you can't even walk on your own. We are just going home.
Me: But you said! You said, you said you said you said..." (This was like a whine sob word mix)
Mum: No.
And again, mum's final word was law, so I shut up except for some halfhearted sniffles. She did, however, take me to Sonic and get me a sprite and also a chocolate shake with fries so I could mush them around in my mouth. Later we would find out that they gave me too much anethesia for my weight, which is why I was so unfunctional and hard to wake up, but the whole experience traumatized me.
And this has been the long winded reason why I do NOT want to have another surgery, yet I am afraid I will have to. Stupid teeth.
Over the past week, my lower right wisdom tooth has been aching a little. Now you need to understand that I am very OCD when it comes to the health of my mouth and teeth. You don't go through surgery and four years of braces and expect to come through without a little PTSD. I brush my teeth twice a day, every day and on days my teeth feel a little grimy, three times a day. I floss, I use mouthwash. I inspect my teeth for possible cavities often. I am very very careful with my teeth. So to have a sore mouth caused by a tooth is a major freak out moment for me. The first day I inspected it, it looked like my gums were a little swollen back there, so I lightly massaged them with my brush a few times that day and for the following day. It got a little better, so I stopped worrying about it. Then yesterday, I woke up with the whole right side of my face lightly swollen and I was again worried. This time when I looked in my mouth, the impossible appeared to have happened. My gums are not swollen, my wisdom tooth is receding! And it's receding crookedly, pushing the side of it into my jawline and cheek. On my lunch break yesterday I called a dental office and asked if this was, indeed, possible. Apparently it is because wisdom teeth are wicked little creatures with minds of their own. So now I have to go get all my wisdom teeth thoroughly examined and quite possibly removed. And if the crazy tooth doesn't come up back up, that will require oral surgery. Which I HATE. And here's why.
When I was preparing to get braces, Dr Ackerman realized that my mouth (much like the rest of my body) was tiny. Too small, in fact, to fit all the teeth that were growing in. So I had to set an appointment to have two bottom teeth removed and two top teeth removed. That would have been no big deal, but my top teeth were indignant. They stood their ground and refused to move, stating "we are too cool to leave this mouth." In normal person speak, this means that the roots of my teeth were actually hooked into my sinus and to merely pull them would resort in more surgeries than needed because then they would need to repair my sinus region. It was ultimately decided that I would need to have surgery to remove these teeth, no big deal, right? Wrong. I was terrified of surgery. What if I never woke up? Nonetheless, mum's final word was law in our house, and she said my teeth were being removed surgically.
The day of the surgery, I got to skip school (yay!) and on the way to the clinic, I asked mum if we could go to the library and sonic afterwards. She kind of did this little half laugh, and said sure, if I felt up to it after the surgery. I took this as a yes, because why wouldn't I feel like it?
Skipping all the boring details of signing in and getting to the good stuff, they hooked me up to all the tubes and a nurse took a nasty looking long needle and inserted it into my IV and asked me to count backwards from 10. The last number I remember was 9, so that was probably a sign of the future issues I had.
I am assuming (and would not like to hear otherwise) that the surgery itself went fine. It was the waking me afterwards that caused problems. As in, I wouldn't wake up. They went out and got my mum, and from what I am told, it even took her some time to get me conscious.
The first thing I remember was the clouds on the ceiling, with the cowboys and indians chasing each other. I tried to tell my mum about them, but there was so much gauze in my mouth, and it just kind of hung upen and wouldn't close and the drugs were definitely prohibiting any real human speak. Also I might mention there were no cowboys or indians on the ceiling. Or clouds. I am pretty sure it was just a plain white ceiling when I was put under and I seriously doubted they painted all of that in the hour I was down for the count.
Me: Mum, look, the cowboys are chasing the indians in the sky
Mum: umm...un huh, sweetie, you need to wake up. Can you open your eyes a little more?
Me: No, my eyes are fine. Do you see the cowboys?
Mum: That's nice, honey. Now we are going to get you home, okay? I have to leave for a second. I am going to get the car. I will be right back. (my drug addled brain did not recognize this sentence as actual words so I had no idea what my mum was doing)
Me: But the indians! And the clouds!
At this point, my mother had left the room to pull the van around to the side of the building so that I didn't freak out the rest of the patients in the waiting room with my crazy mouth face. The two nice male dental assistants helped me walk (read: basically carried me) to the side door, where my mother was waiting. Unfortunately for them, they also had a supplies van waiting there as well, and I couldn't see my mum's van at first, so I freaked out on them as much as a ninety pound pre-teen girl could freak out on two physically fit mid twenties men. I was sure they were kidnapping me for ransom and I just couldn't allow that. My mum hurried over to calm me down and with a little bit of struggle, we got me safely loaded into the waiting vehicle and on my way home.
Everything was fine until we passed the library.
Me: Mum! Where are you going? The library, you said, I feel fine!
Mum: No, Angie, you don't. You don't make any sense, your entire face is swollen and you can't even walk on your own. We are just going home.
Me: But you said! You said, you said you said you said..." (This was like a whine sob word mix)
Mum: No.
And again, mum's final word was law, so I shut up except for some halfhearted sniffles. She did, however, take me to Sonic and get me a sprite and also a chocolate shake with fries so I could mush them around in my mouth. Later we would find out that they gave me too much anethesia for my weight, which is why I was so unfunctional and hard to wake up, but the whole experience traumatized me.
And this has been the long winded reason why I do NOT want to have another surgery, yet I am afraid I will have to. Stupid teeth.
Friday, December 7, 2012
My mother is a thief of joy- The tale of a poor sick girl.
Sorry I haven't posted in a bit! Ian and I have just purchased a home, and it's requiring a bit of TLC, plus packing, and getting ready for Christmas, I just haven't had time to breathe. Then yesterday, I had an evil stomach bug and so I laid on the couch and read and moaned of how I was on my deathbed, but no one would take of me. This, of course, was a complete lie as Ian was a very good caretaker but it reminded me of a conversation I had with my mum on the phone a week ago.
She called for some odd and random reason (read: Taylor's christmas box so no details will be provided here) and then I teased her about being a negligent mother for not remembering his birthday.
Mum: I know! I know! All my children tell me I am a terrible mother. I'm the worst. Over it. Moving on.
Me: Well, not the worst...but you know...you haven't exactly been attentive to my needs lately.
Mum: What do you mean?
Me: I didn't want to mention it, bbuutt for, like, the past four years, you haven't been at my beck and call when I was sick...
Mum: ...oh Lord...
Me: (continuing on throughout mum's mumblings) ...and so I haven't had anyone to bring me orange juice and cold rags for my head or make me couch nests to lay in and read, sleep, and watch Harry Potter...
Mum:...might I mention that you're married...
Me:...and so I really don't think that I have been getting as well as quickly as I used to.
Mum: Does Ian not take care of you?
Me: He does, but that's besides the point. You're my mum. You're supposed to take of me forever, especially when I am sick.
Mum: This entire conversation has taken a turn for the ridiculous.
Me: You just wait. I am probably going to be ill soon, and you won't take care of me.
Mum: You're right. Because your husband will and you're being a child.
Me: *blows raspberry in her ear*
AND what would you know, I was sick yesterday, and Ian did take care of me. But I had to make my own couch nest, and I didn't get to watch any Harry Potter, there was no orange juice or cold rags for my head. Not that I was that sick, just a little tummy bug probably caused my dinner the night before, and I have already packed away my Harry Potter movies to be moved over to the new house. I am also not a huge fan of orange juice. But this is all besides the point. The point is when I am sick, I need a certain routine followed, and I don't care that I am in my mid-twenties, if I don't feel well, my body thinks its five again. And when you're five, you need your mum.
And also probably some "Soft Kitty."
She called for some odd and random reason (read: Taylor's christmas box so no details will be provided here) and then I teased her about being a negligent mother for not remembering his birthday.
Mum: I know! I know! All my children tell me I am a terrible mother. I'm the worst. Over it. Moving on.
Me: Well, not the worst...but you know...you haven't exactly been attentive to my needs lately.
Mum: What do you mean?
Me: I didn't want to mention it, bbuutt for, like, the past four years, you haven't been at my beck and call when I was sick...
Mum: ...oh Lord...
Me: (continuing on throughout mum's mumblings) ...and so I haven't had anyone to bring me orange juice and cold rags for my head or make me couch nests to lay in and read, sleep, and watch Harry Potter...
Mum:...might I mention that you're married...
Me:...and so I really don't think that I have been getting as well as quickly as I used to.
Mum: Does Ian not take care of you?
Me: He does, but that's besides the point. You're my mum. You're supposed to take of me forever, especially when I am sick.
Mum: This entire conversation has taken a turn for the ridiculous.
Me: You just wait. I am probably going to be ill soon, and you won't take care of me.
Mum: You're right. Because your husband will and you're being a child.
Me: *blows raspberry in her ear*
AND what would you know, I was sick yesterday, and Ian did take care of me. But I had to make my own couch nest, and I didn't get to watch any Harry Potter, there was no orange juice or cold rags for my head. Not that I was that sick, just a little tummy bug probably caused my dinner the night before, and I have already packed away my Harry Potter movies to be moved over to the new house. I am also not a huge fan of orange juice. But this is all besides the point. The point is when I am sick, I need a certain routine followed, and I don't care that I am in my mid-twenties, if I don't feel well, my body thinks its five again. And when you're five, you need your mum.
And also probably some "Soft Kitty."
Monday, November 26, 2012
"Presents! Everywhere!"
Ian and I have put up our christmas tree on Thanksgiving night every year since we got married. I don't participate in Black Friday, so I don't have to go to bed early and he does, but he just pulls an allnighter, so it's the perfect time to put it up. We don't have to worry about how late we are up, and we watch a christmas movie, we get into PJs, I usually drink hot cocoa and it's the "Ross Christmas Tree Ceremony." It's one of my very favorite nights throughout the whole year.
This year, however, was different. This year we have two kittens who are in the destruction to everything stage. I was a little worried about this, but they seem to respond fairly well to disciplinary action, so I tried not to dwell on it too much. BIG MISTAKE.
1. Getting the tree out of the holiday closet: I walk to the library, open door. Kittens with supersonic hearing hear the door open. They come running. They both shoot into holiday closet and immediately disappear among boxes. I pull tree out and drag it to the living room, then go back to get kittens out of holiday closet. They aren't there. I search everywhere, get irritated, decide to lock them in there to teach them a lesson. I walk back to the living room to find christmas tree container moving. The kittens managed to crawl into the one container I was pulling out anyway. Get kittens out of box, and shoo them away. Ian distracts them with shiny stuff.
2. Assembling the christmas tree: I do my super important job of putting the tree base into the perfect position while Ian pulls the heavier part of the tree out and places it into said base. So far, so good, kittens still distracting with shiny stuff. I pull out the second part of the christmas tree. For some reason unknown to man, this action attracts kittens. Now intrigued, they run full force into the bottom part of the already assembled tree and scoot it out of perfect position. I distract them with a ball of yarn (yes this is cliche, but it totally works on my kittens) and they are sufficiently distracted. We manage to get the rest of the tree put up with relative ease.
3. Lighting the christmas tree: We do have a pre-strung christmas tree, but the order in which the lights connect to each other have absolutely no rhyme or reason and I tossed the instructions three years ago (because who really needs them??) so we just plug them together randoming until all the lights are on. As soon as the first set of lights came on, they had the kittens' attention again. Doctor tried to gnaw on a light only to burn his tongue, Olive just sat and stare wide-eyed for about 30 second and then went batpoop crazy and tried to destroy the tree. The problem was that now that the lights were on, there was no way to distract them from the tree, and we needed the lights on to tell when they were all connected properly. We slid the cats away, we lightly swatted them, I tried holding them while Ian desperately attempted to get everything connected. We finally decided to let them lay near, but not touch, the tree. It seemed to work best. I only had to swat their paws a couple times a piece before they realized they could look but not touch.
4. Decorating the christmas tree: This is when all hell broke loose. Most of our ornaments are plastic anyway, thank the Lord, so it was mostly chasing down cats with ornaments in tow, or to replace the ornaments they swatted off. Ian used mean voice on them and they kept the swatting to a minimum a.k.a. when Ian wasn't looking only. This part took the longest as it normally does, but it was ungodly long this time because of all the interference from the two cat demons from hell.
5. Finishing the rest of the house decorations: piece of cake. Kittens liked the tree, didn't give two hoots about anything else.
After the tree was assembled, everything calmed down, cats lost interest, we forgot that they were unholy creatures sent to torment us during the Christmas season. Until Saturday. Saturday night Ian took me on a spontaneous late night Palace movie date night, and all was well. Ian had decided to put my presents under the tree already to taunt my with their wrappedupness and I was NOT appreciating it. I just wanted to rip them apart and have them already.
When we got back from the movies, Ian was dallying behind in his car messing with something so I was the first into the house. As soon as I flipped on the hallway light, I saw two flashes, white and black, shoot into the library. Immediately suspicious I hurried to the living room, knowing that Olive and Doctor only willingly went into their room if they were hungry, thirsty, or about to be in huge trouble. In this case, I was absolutely sure they were about to be in trouble. Once I turned on the light to the living room, I saw that they had apparently played some form of "present hockey" or soccer or basketball. SOMETHING. My presents (wrapped as much as I could see) were EVERYWHERE.
Me: PRESENTS! EVERYWHERE! OH, IT IS CHRISTMAS! (doctor who quote)
Ian: What do you mean, presents everywhere?
Me: My presents are all over! Maybe some are opened!
Ian: Don't you lay a single finger on any of those presents or I will send them all back! Don't move a muscle.
I was immediately shunned to the closest room (the laundry room) to sit and wait for Ian to inspect all the presents for any damage. Satisfied there were none, he let me out and went into the library with the kittens. I heard a lot of mean voice (no raised volume, just harsher tone). Then he came out of the room with a kitten in each arm, both looking sheepish. We spent the rest of the night curled up on the couch, watching "How I Met Your Mother" and cuddling with the apparently apologetic, suddenly cuddly kittens.
This year, however, was different. This year we have two kittens who are in the destruction to everything stage. I was a little worried about this, but they seem to respond fairly well to disciplinary action, so I tried not to dwell on it too much. BIG MISTAKE.
1. Getting the tree out of the holiday closet: I walk to the library, open door. Kittens with supersonic hearing hear the door open. They come running. They both shoot into holiday closet and immediately disappear among boxes. I pull tree out and drag it to the living room, then go back to get kittens out of holiday closet. They aren't there. I search everywhere, get irritated, decide to lock them in there to teach them a lesson. I walk back to the living room to find christmas tree container moving. The kittens managed to crawl into the one container I was pulling out anyway. Get kittens out of box, and shoo them away. Ian distracts them with shiny stuff.
2. Assembling the christmas tree: I do my super important job of putting the tree base into the perfect position while Ian pulls the heavier part of the tree out and places it into said base. So far, so good, kittens still distracting with shiny stuff. I pull out the second part of the christmas tree. For some reason unknown to man, this action attracts kittens. Now intrigued, they run full force into the bottom part of the already assembled tree and scoot it out of perfect position. I distract them with a ball of yarn (yes this is cliche, but it totally works on my kittens) and they are sufficiently distracted. We manage to get the rest of the tree put up with relative ease.
3. Lighting the christmas tree: We do have a pre-strung christmas tree, but the order in which the lights connect to each other have absolutely no rhyme or reason and I tossed the instructions three years ago (because who really needs them??) so we just plug them together randoming until all the lights are on. As soon as the first set of lights came on, they had the kittens' attention again. Doctor tried to gnaw on a light only to burn his tongue, Olive just sat and stare wide-eyed for about 30 second and then went batpoop crazy and tried to destroy the tree. The problem was that now that the lights were on, there was no way to distract them from the tree, and we needed the lights on to tell when they were all connected properly. We slid the cats away, we lightly swatted them, I tried holding them while Ian desperately attempted to get everything connected. We finally decided to let them lay near, but not touch, the tree. It seemed to work best. I only had to swat their paws a couple times a piece before they realized they could look but not touch.
4. Decorating the christmas tree: This is when all hell broke loose. Most of our ornaments are plastic anyway, thank the Lord, so it was mostly chasing down cats with ornaments in tow, or to replace the ornaments they swatted off. Ian used mean voice on them and they kept the swatting to a minimum a.k.a. when Ian wasn't looking only. This part took the longest as it normally does, but it was ungodly long this time because of all the interference from the two cat demons from hell.
5. Finishing the rest of the house decorations: piece of cake. Kittens liked the tree, didn't give two hoots about anything else.
After the tree was assembled, everything calmed down, cats lost interest, we forgot that they were unholy creatures sent to torment us during the Christmas season. Until Saturday. Saturday night Ian took me on a spontaneous late night Palace movie date night, and all was well. Ian had decided to put my presents under the tree already to taunt my with their wrappedupness and I was NOT appreciating it. I just wanted to rip them apart and have them already.
When we got back from the movies, Ian was dallying behind in his car messing with something so I was the first into the house. As soon as I flipped on the hallway light, I saw two flashes, white and black, shoot into the library. Immediately suspicious I hurried to the living room, knowing that Olive and Doctor only willingly went into their room if they were hungry, thirsty, or about to be in huge trouble. In this case, I was absolutely sure they were about to be in trouble. Once I turned on the light to the living room, I saw that they had apparently played some form of "present hockey" or soccer or basketball. SOMETHING. My presents (wrapped as much as I could see) were EVERYWHERE.
Me: PRESENTS! EVERYWHERE! OH, IT IS CHRISTMAS! (doctor who quote)
Ian: What do you mean, presents everywhere?
Me: My presents are all over! Maybe some are opened!
Ian: Don't you lay a single finger on any of those presents or I will send them all back! Don't move a muscle.
I was immediately shunned to the closest room (the laundry room) to sit and wait for Ian to inspect all the presents for any damage. Satisfied there were none, he let me out and went into the library with the kittens. I heard a lot of mean voice (no raised volume, just harsher tone). Then he came out of the room with a kitten in each arm, both looking sheepish. We spent the rest of the night curled up on the couch, watching "How I Met Your Mother" and cuddling with the apparently apologetic, suddenly cuddly kittens.
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Happy Turkey Day of the food and the giving of thanks!
I am not sure how busy I will be tomorrow because it is the day before Thanksgiving and the banks are closed for the holiday, so I might be slammed with faxes, phone calls, and cases, but I really don't want to leave you hanging. So here is my thanksgiving post.
I am thankful all year round, but Thanksgiving really reminds me how thankful I am for so many things.
My marriage: I am thankful that God had a man for me that was silly, fun, and a planner. Whereas I tend to dive into things headfirst, consequences be damned, Ian takes a step back and thinks "Where do I want to be a year/five years from now? How with this particular action affect that future? What are the pros/cons?" I will admit that there are times when I do not feel thankful for this because it really cuts back on my spontaneity, but they're few and far between. I love that I get to spend the rest of my life with this man and that he will make every effort to ensure his family is provided for at all times.
My furbabies: This year, Ian and I rescued both Doctor and Olive from starvation and watery death, respectively. I have had pets in the past, but this is the first time that they felt like our pets as opposed to my pets and I really think that made all the difference. They are so adorable, and though there are times when they drive me up the wall, I wouldn't trade them for all the cute baby animals in the world. They have their own little personalities that complement our own perfectly and I love the feeling of being needed and unconditionally loved. Also watching Ian with our cats has instilled me reassurance that he will be so great with children. If he can be so tender and loving, yet firm on obeying rules with CATS, he will do a kick butt job with our own little humans.
My family: I will say that there has been at least one time this year that every single one of my family members have made me want to scream until I was blue in the face and move somewhere that no one could reach me. I think when you know someone for as long as we've known each other, and when you're as close as our family is, it is impossible not to make each other mad at least once a year. There's just too much that we all know about each other, and such differing opinions on things that it's inevitable. But all that aside, at the end of the day, there is very little I wouldn't do for my family, and I hope that they feel the same.
My friends: I am truly blessed with great friends, whether they are new friends or very long term friends, I haven't found myself wanting for a listening ear when I need it. Especially my best friend, Deloris. She has heard more rants and sadness from me this year than even most of my family. Outside of Ian, she is my go to for any venting of any problems I have and again, outside of Ian, she is usually the first to hear any big news or happiness I have to express as well. I am pretty sure the only reason God made sure she was born to a different family was because I don't think my mum could handle us 24/7 from birth. As it was, she basically handled us 24/7 a good deal of our lives anyway, other with my other best friend Sarah. We were always up to shenanigans to make my mum turn grey.
My faith: I am not the type to punch you in the face with my religion, but I am also not afraid to tell you if I think you're missing out either. Because my God is so full of love and so ready to welcome you into his loving arms. I know I am using the word love a lot, but God and love are pretty synonymous in my book. I fell away in my late teens and early twenties, but I am so glad I came back. I am glad that through the reading of the word I realized that Church and individual people can claim to be messengers of God and can lead you astray with their two facedness. And I am also glad to have met good and godly people in our new church that are shining examples of God's love and not judmental bigots on a soapbox about how amazing their life is and curse curse curse the sinners! They actively want to reach new people and bring them to Christ. It's an actual desire of theirs, and you can tell the difference.
These are just a few things I am thankful for, the big things. My life is so well taken care of, between my husband's love and care, my best friends, my family and my God. I don't think there is a blog post long enough to encompass how thankful I am for the life God has given me. Even though there are trials and heartbreaks, I have always come back from all of them stronger.
Happy Thanksgiving, my dear readers.
I am thankful all year round, but Thanksgiving really reminds me how thankful I am for so many things.
My marriage: I am thankful that God had a man for me that was silly, fun, and a planner. Whereas I tend to dive into things headfirst, consequences be damned, Ian takes a step back and thinks "Where do I want to be a year/five years from now? How with this particular action affect that future? What are the pros/cons?" I will admit that there are times when I do not feel thankful for this because it really cuts back on my spontaneity, but they're few and far between. I love that I get to spend the rest of my life with this man and that he will make every effort to ensure his family is provided for at all times.
My furbabies: This year, Ian and I rescued both Doctor and Olive from starvation and watery death, respectively. I have had pets in the past, but this is the first time that they felt like our pets as opposed to my pets and I really think that made all the difference. They are so adorable, and though there are times when they drive me up the wall, I wouldn't trade them for all the cute baby animals in the world. They have their own little personalities that complement our own perfectly and I love the feeling of being needed and unconditionally loved. Also watching Ian with our cats has instilled me reassurance that he will be so great with children. If he can be so tender and loving, yet firm on obeying rules with CATS, he will do a kick butt job with our own little humans.
My family: I will say that there has been at least one time this year that every single one of my family members have made me want to scream until I was blue in the face and move somewhere that no one could reach me. I think when you know someone for as long as we've known each other, and when you're as close as our family is, it is impossible not to make each other mad at least once a year. There's just too much that we all know about each other, and such differing opinions on things that it's inevitable. But all that aside, at the end of the day, there is very little I wouldn't do for my family, and I hope that they feel the same.
My friends: I am truly blessed with great friends, whether they are new friends or very long term friends, I haven't found myself wanting for a listening ear when I need it. Especially my best friend, Deloris. She has heard more rants and sadness from me this year than even most of my family. Outside of Ian, she is my go to for any venting of any problems I have and again, outside of Ian, she is usually the first to hear any big news or happiness I have to express as well. I am pretty sure the only reason God made sure she was born to a different family was because I don't think my mum could handle us 24/7 from birth. As it was, she basically handled us 24/7 a good deal of our lives anyway, other with my other best friend Sarah. We were always up to shenanigans to make my mum turn grey.
My faith: I am not the type to punch you in the face with my religion, but I am also not afraid to tell you if I think you're missing out either. Because my God is so full of love and so ready to welcome you into his loving arms. I know I am using the word love a lot, but God and love are pretty synonymous in my book. I fell away in my late teens and early twenties, but I am so glad I came back. I am glad that through the reading of the word I realized that Church and individual people can claim to be messengers of God and can lead you astray with their two facedness. And I am also glad to have met good and godly people in our new church that are shining examples of God's love and not judmental bigots on a soapbox about how amazing their life is and curse curse curse the sinners! They actively want to reach new people and bring them to Christ. It's an actual desire of theirs, and you can tell the difference.
These are just a few things I am thankful for, the big things. My life is so well taken care of, between my husband's love and care, my best friends, my family and my God. I don't think there is a blog post long enough to encompass how thankful I am for the life God has given me. Even though there are trials and heartbreaks, I have always come back from all of them stronger.
Happy Thanksgiving, my dear readers.
Monday, November 19, 2012
Soundbytes from the Weekend.
"We aren't playing bitey biterson right now, we are playing sleepy sleeperson."
"Oh look, your backseat. The place all my tupperware goes to die."
"Ian, I tangled your stupid paracord rope around my wrist and can't get it off."
"Hold on, I'll help you in a second."
"Good, but try to take it off all sexy like so I don't feel like such a moron."
"Okay, look. There really isn't a 'sexy' way to remove a rope that you've successfully tangled around your wrist, sorry. I'm just going to have to pull it off, and it might hurt."
"I can hear it now! 'Listen up boys, it's a fight for the finish! I don't care if you have to take a chainsaw to that egg to get in, you just get in!' Haha!"
"Ian, come look at my Ross budget proposal for 2013."
"You have a budget proposal? What just happened to calling it your budget plan? No wait. I like this better. It makes me feel important, like a senator or a president. Maybe a lawyer."
"Okay...?"
"My name is Ian Ross and I approve this budget."
"Introverts unite!"
"....in separate houses, maybe..."
"Can you bring a pie this Sunday?"
"Maaaaayyyybbbeeee..."
"Please?"
"Depends on how bad you want it."
"I don't want it. I just don't want to make it....what do you want?!"
"Your soul. Nom nom nom."
"I just don't think it's fair you own all the properties on that entire corner of the board plus the TARDIS/railroad. It's like you have a monopoly on that section."
"Well, they don't call the game Monopoly for no reason."
"Oh look, your backseat. The place all my tupperware goes to die."
"Ian, I tangled your stupid paracord rope around my wrist and can't get it off."
"Hold on, I'll help you in a second."
"Good, but try to take it off all sexy like so I don't feel like such a moron."
"Okay, look. There really isn't a 'sexy' way to remove a rope that you've successfully tangled around your wrist, sorry. I'm just going to have to pull it off, and it might hurt."
"I can hear it now! 'Listen up boys, it's a fight for the finish! I don't care if you have to take a chainsaw to that egg to get in, you just get in!' Haha!"
"Ian, come look at my Ross budget proposal for 2013."
"You have a budget proposal? What just happened to calling it your budget plan? No wait. I like this better. It makes me feel important, like a senator or a president. Maybe a lawyer."
"Okay...?"
"My name is Ian Ross and I approve this budget."
"Introverts unite!"
"....in separate houses, maybe..."
"Can you bring a pie this Sunday?"
"Maaaaayyyybbbeeee..."
"Please?"
"Depends on how bad you want it."
"I don't want it. I just don't want to make it....what do you want?!"
"Your soul. Nom nom nom."
"I just don't think it's fair you own all the properties on that entire corner of the board plus the TARDIS/railroad. It's like you have a monopoly on that section."
"Well, they don't call the game Monopoly for no reason."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)