Well, I did it. I actually won NaNoWriMo this year. Shocked the hell out of me, actually. Now my aching fingers and wrists may actually be able to recuperate, or they will suffer more as I start writing out Christmas Cards and playing various computer games until ridiculously early in the morning.
Fun news though. I'm considering starting my own Etsy shop. I will have a job soon! And hopefully after I while I will be able to work from home, which causes me all sorts of trouble seeing as I have Facebook at home. Nevertheless, I am able to get what needs to be done finished, mostly without trouble.
In all seriousness though, my life seems jumbled up right now. I feel like I'm closing in on 50 years old, even though I'm only 22. I look in the mirror and I'm surprised my hair is not gray sometimes. My anxiety is going through the roof and making me sick and angry at everyone. Most days I just want to curl up into a ball and be left alone. I have to watch a woman who I consider closer to me than my own mother die, and die slowly at that, because she won't take care of herself. Husband and I try our hardest to help, but it just seems that our help is going in one ear and out of the other. I hardly have any close connection to my parents at all, and sometimes Husband's family is a little unbearable. After marrying Husband, my friends are pretty much nonexistent. I dropped out of school until our family can get back on its feet and it's killing me inside. I love school. I feel so useless right now.
And yes, I do realize that there is no one reading this. Maybe that's a good thing. I don't like people I know finding out just how messed up and scared I am on the inside, and the fact that none of them read this allows me to just vent. Kind of. I still hold back about things. A lot of things.
Whatever.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Friday, October 28, 2011
NaNoWriMo is upon us!
Well, it's that time of year again. It's cold (downright freezing, in fact), people are worrying about their costumes, trick-or-treating, and how much they're going to drink at so-and-so's frat party. And all around the world, writer's are frantically typing up their final minute drafts and outlines for National Novel Writing Month, affectionately called NaNoWriMo.
My novel plotting is going swimmingly. Husband (eloped back in April) and I went to Busch Gardens Williamsburg at the beginning of October. Somewhere between listening to him swear he was going to divorce me after riding Griffon to me screaming as the ceiling dropped down on me in a maze, my year and a half long bout of writer's block came to an end. We spent two hours on our way to pick up Little Miss talking about it, then continued to talk about it on our way home, and haven't stopped talking about it since. Needless to say, I am PUMPED.
I don't think I've ever been this excited over NaNoWriMo. I actually feel like I stand a chance in breaking through the 50,000 word limit and pushing on to the other side. And for the first time, I actually have someone who's supporting me and willing to deal with the fact that I won't get any housework done during the month of November. I even have a title, and that in and of itself is a miracle. (Of course, Husband helped me with the title because I am terrible at creating them).
So, good luck to all my fellow WriMos, whether you read this or not. I wish all of you a pleasant writing lots of caffeine. May writer's block stay away from your novel and your plot bunnies never stray.
My novel plotting is going swimmingly. Husband (eloped back in April) and I went to Busch Gardens Williamsburg at the beginning of October. Somewhere between listening to him swear he was going to divorce me after riding Griffon to me screaming as the ceiling dropped down on me in a maze, my year and a half long bout of writer's block came to an end. We spent two hours on our way to pick up Little Miss talking about it, then continued to talk about it on our way home, and haven't stopped talking about it since. Needless to say, I am PUMPED.
I don't think I've ever been this excited over NaNoWriMo. I actually feel like I stand a chance in breaking through the 50,000 word limit and pushing on to the other side. And for the first time, I actually have someone who's supporting me and willing to deal with the fact that I won't get any housework done during the month of November. I even have a title, and that in and of itself is a miracle. (Of course, Husband helped me with the title because I am terrible at creating them).
So, good luck to all my fellow WriMos, whether you read this or not. I wish all of you a pleasant writing lots of caffeine. May writer's block stay away from your novel and your plot bunnies never stray.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Level of Productiveness Today - 3/19/11
Goals
- Have a picnic with Little Miss
- Do dishes
- Do laundry
- Pick up House
- Organize DVDS
- Give bath/Take shower
- Make a grocery list for Fiance to pick up at the store
- Read 'Things Fall Apart' for History since Spring Break ends Monday.
- Do Homework for the upcoming weeks, so I will not be scrambling at the last minute...like usual.
- Play more Dream Day Wedding
- Play more Marvel vs. Capcom 3
- Watch a movie with Fiance when he gets home.
- Go to bed at a reasonable hour.
Actually Accomplished
- Have a picnic with Little Miss - Yeah, this was semi-successful. She was more worried about playing in the yard and attempting to pick up all of my flowers than eating. And when she did eat, she crammed it all into her mouth at the same time. As for the bread, well, the birds should be eating well.
- SURPRISE ACCOMPLISHMENT - 12:53 PM - LITTLE MISS POOPED IN THE BIG POTTY! YAY!
- Take showers - Well, both Little Miss and I ended up taking a shower. This means my legs did not get shaved, but luckily, this time I got to wash my hair before the hot water turned ice cold.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Kind of sorta devastated
So, tomorrow, I'm dropping Little Miss off at the babysitter, because I need some time alone. I need to think. Because honestly I don't know what to do.
I went to the gynecologist on Monday, to find out what's going on with my ovaries, and I learned that they're not functioning properly. They're causing me a lot of pain, due to a large amount of cysts that are growing on them, and I have to go through all these labs and ultrasounds and things like that. I have no problem doing that, at all.
But he mentioned my ability to have children. He said I might not be able to have any, if I wait much longer, due to the state of my ovaries and I'm only 21. Even if I get pregnant, there's a good chance that I would have a miscarriage. I thought I would have more time than a month to decide whether or not to get pregnant in the near future, you know? And Justin says 'no, we're not having any kids right now. I want to give you a child, just not right now' and I can't help it, but I feel like shaking him and screaming 'IF I DON'T HAVE ONE NOW I MIGHT NEVER HAVE ONE!' then bursting into tears. I feel irrational and stressed out and selfish because I want to have a baby before I can't have one anymore. I don't care if they have to remove my ovaries or whatever right after the birth, I just want one.
I've been feeling down and depressed and worried and I just want to be left alone because I don't know what to think. Everyone but Fiance, family included, is just telling me that I should try to get pregnant now. But Fiance's refusing it. I'd like to say that I understand his reasoning behind it, and I do, to an extent, but I just don't think he understands how I feel about it.
Now, don't get me wrong, I love Little Miss. I love her with every fiber of my being, and I wish that I'd been the one to give birth to her. And I'm not saying I'm going to treat her like a stepchild - she will always be my daughter - I just want to experience being pregnant, having a baby, being there the whole time and raising the baby from birth, not just walking in when they're almost two. And I feel selfish for wanting that too. I feel selfish and ridiculous for even writing this. I don't have anyone really to talk to, because it's either I'm told to get pregnant by family or told no by Fiance and I want to talk to my doctor about it but I can never get a hold of him! Ugh.
Is it wrong that I'm feeling like this? I think it is, I think that I shouldn't be like this but I am and it hurts. Fiance says he'll love me anyway, but how am I supposed to love myself if I can't do the one thing that almost every woman wants to do?
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Intrauterine Terrorism
My uterus is a terrorist.
It is because of my uterus that I spent all night in the hospital AGAIN instead of at home, where I could be asleep by now. But NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. My uterus had other plans entirely.
WARNING: CONTINUING READING THIS BLOG POST MAY POSSIBLY MAKE YOU FEEL SCARED AND OR DISTURBED.
Last October, my uterus decided that it was going to with hold my period from me for four months. Unfortunately, it decided to release ALL of the hormones that cause PMS so instead of a period I had PMS. Every single day. For almost four months.
I took pregnancy tests, thinking that might be the problem. Nope.
I went to the doctor, thinking it was that stupid cyst on my ovary, or that maybe the pregnancy tests were wrong? Nope. But they put me on pills for a UTI that I didn't know I had. One day after I took the pills, I started my period. Thank God. For once, I was happy to see the little bitch rear it's ugly head. Life was back to normal.
Until two weeks ago.
I got my period again. Yay! I'm still un-impregnanted! But this time, it's accompanied with some of the worst pain in my life, dizziness, headaches and nausea. So, after two weeks of bleeding like a stuck pig, Fiance dragged me to the hospital. Mostly because I sat down in the middle of Kroger and said I was going to sleep. (Blood loss apparently got to me, though I just thought I was tired).
What I've learned from the doctor:
And guess what, uterus? These two terrorist factions that you've put on each of my ovaries are doing more harm that good. You hear that? There's a chance that if they don't go away, and get to where they have minds of their own and do not listen to you at all, that I may have to remove my ovaries. You know what that means, right? NO BABIES. EVER. And you would only have yourself to blame for it.
Personally, I would like to keep my ovaries, seeing as AFTER I FUCKING GRADUATE I plan on putting them to their purpose and if you don't stop throwing your little bitch-fits, that will never happen.
We will do things on MY TERMS, Uterus, not yours. I do not negotiate with terrorists. You think I'm scared of you? Well, if I was, then I wouldn't start birth control just to regulate your moody ass, since you either decide to show up randomly, on my doorstep, in say, the middle of a Final OR you show up late for your shift and I worry that you did what you wanted without giving me a heads up, in which case I would seriously consider removing you.
That's right. Removing you. I do not need you to survive. I can live without you just fine. You are just really stretchy muscle or skin or whatever you are, and if I really didn't want to have children, I can just get them to suck you out. But, since I do want to have children eventually, I will keep you Uterus. But you will stop your bitching. Or I will cut you.
It is because of my uterus that I spent all night in the hospital AGAIN instead of at home, where I could be asleep by now. But NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. My uterus had other plans entirely.
WARNING: CONTINUING READING THIS BLOG POST MAY POSSIBLY MAKE YOU FEEL SCARED AND OR DISTURBED.
Last October, my uterus decided that it was going to with hold my period from me for four months. Unfortunately, it decided to release ALL of the hormones that cause PMS so instead of a period I had PMS. Every single day. For almost four months.
I took pregnancy tests, thinking that might be the problem. Nope.
I went to the doctor, thinking it was that stupid cyst on my ovary, or that maybe the pregnancy tests were wrong? Nope. But they put me on pills for a UTI that I didn't know I had. One day after I took the pills, I started my period. Thank God. For once, I was happy to see the little bitch rear it's ugly head. Life was back to normal.
Until two weeks ago.
I got my period again. Yay! I'm still un-impregnanted! But this time, it's accompanied with some of the worst pain in my life, dizziness, headaches and nausea. So, after two weeks of bleeding like a stuck pig, Fiance dragged me to the hospital. Mostly because I sat down in the middle of Kroger and said I was going to sleep. (Blood loss apparently got to me, though I just thought I was tired).
What I've learned from the doctor:
- That I have another cyst on my ovary. I "complex" cyst. If it gets worse, it shall need to be surgically removed. This cyst is on my right, and is a bigger terrorist group than the cyst that is on my left, which while annoying, isn't as kick-ass as the thing on my right.
- My uterus is indeed the terrorist backing both terrorist movements.
- Starting tomorrow, an anti-terrorist group (birth control) will force its way into my system, attacking not only the two smaller terrorist groups, and putting the uterus' cocky ass back in it's fucking place.
- It's really uncomfortable to get a pelvic exam when the doctor looks like Joel Osteen.
And guess what, uterus? These two terrorist factions that you've put on each of my ovaries are doing more harm that good. You hear that? There's a chance that if they don't go away, and get to where they have minds of their own and do not listen to you at all, that I may have to remove my ovaries. You know what that means, right? NO BABIES. EVER. And you would only have yourself to blame for it.
Personally, I would like to keep my ovaries, seeing as AFTER I FUCKING GRADUATE I plan on putting them to their purpose and if you don't stop throwing your little bitch-fits, that will never happen.
We will do things on MY TERMS, Uterus, not yours. I do not negotiate with terrorists. You think I'm scared of you? Well, if I was, then I wouldn't start birth control just to regulate your moody ass, since you either decide to show up randomly, on my doorstep, in say, the middle of a Final OR you show up late for your shift and I worry that you did what you wanted without giving me a heads up, in which case I would seriously consider removing you.
That's right. Removing you. I do not need you to survive. I can live without you just fine. You are just really stretchy muscle or skin or whatever you are, and if I really didn't want to have children, I can just get them to suck you out. But, since I do want to have children eventually, I will keep you Uterus. But you will stop your bitching. Or I will cut you.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
A Day in the Life of a Stay-At-Home-College-Student-Mother
8:30 am - Kick blankets off.
8:32 am - Have Fiance put blankets back on.
8:33 am - Kick blankets off again.
8:34 am - Fiance puts blankets on again, groans, and make sure I can't get out of blankets again, though I manage to wiggle a foot free.
9:45 am - Awoken by "I'm awake!" from Little Miss' room. Groan. Shove Fiance to get out of bed, only to have him shove me back.
10:00 am - Fiance's alarm goes off. He gets up and goes get Little Miss, I go downstairs and pull out milk and chop up bananas into cereal.
10:15 am - Fiance leaves for work. By this time Spongebob is on and while I'm trying to find my planner, Little Miss is chowing down on cheerios with bananas and blueberries, and a nice tall cup of milk.
10:30 am - 2 pm - Little Miss runs around strewing various toys around the house, while I attempt to do homework, but instead end up having to chase her around the house to make sure she doesn't destroy everything.
2:00 pm - 4:00 pm - Quiet time. Little Miss plays quietly in her room and Iplay on Facebook do a little bit of homework or housework without having her get underfoot.
4:00 pm - 5:00 pm - I start to cook dinner.
5:00 pm - 5:30 pm - Little Miss and I eat dinner and watch an episode of Dora or Spongebob.
5:30 pm - 6:50 pm - She plays or we watch a movie.
6:50 pm - 7:00 pm - Brush teeth, put on pajamas, and read a bedtime story.
7:00 pm - Bedtime! The best part of the day.
7:00 pm - 9:00 pm - Homework
9:00 pm: Fiance comes home, usually bearing pizza.
9:30 pm - 1 am - Watch TV or a movie with Fiance until one or both of us pass out/drag the other to bed.
Of course, sometime between the time we go to bed, and the time we wake up, Little Miss usually wakes up with a wet diaper or a bad dream, in which case we're up with her until we can convince her to go back to sleep. Or she'll use the curtains to climb out of bed and come into our room to inform us that she had a good nap.
Silly, silly child.
8:32 am - Have Fiance put blankets back on.
8:33 am - Kick blankets off again.
8:34 am - Fiance puts blankets on again, groans, and make sure I can't get out of blankets again, though I manage to wiggle a foot free.
9:45 am - Awoken by "I'm awake!" from Little Miss' room. Groan. Shove Fiance to get out of bed, only to have him shove me back.
10:00 am - Fiance's alarm goes off. He gets up and goes get Little Miss, I go downstairs and pull out milk and chop up bananas into cereal.
10:15 am - Fiance leaves for work. By this time Spongebob is on and while I'm trying to find my planner, Little Miss is chowing down on cheerios with bananas and blueberries, and a nice tall cup of milk.
10:30 am - 2 pm - Little Miss runs around strewing various toys around the house, while I attempt to do homework, but instead end up having to chase her around the house to make sure she doesn't destroy everything.
2:00 pm - 4:00 pm - Quiet time. Little Miss plays quietly in her room and I
4:00 pm - 5:00 pm - I start to cook dinner.
5:00 pm - 5:30 pm - Little Miss and I eat dinner and watch an episode of Dora or Spongebob.
5:30 pm - 6:50 pm - She plays or we watch a movie.
6:50 pm - 7:00 pm - Brush teeth, put on pajamas, and read a bedtime story.
7:00 pm - Bedtime! The best part of the day.
7:00 pm - 9:00 pm - Homework
9:00 pm: Fiance comes home, usually bearing pizza.
9:30 pm - 1 am - Watch TV or a movie with Fiance until one or both of us pass out/drag the other to bed.
Of course, sometime between the time we go to bed, and the time we wake up, Little Miss usually wakes up with a wet diaper or a bad dream, in which case we're up with her until we can convince her to go back to sleep. Or she'll use the curtains to climb out of bed and come into our room to inform us that she had a good nap.
Silly, silly child.
Curiousity Finished
So, Valentine's Day has come and gone, and it was a good one.
The first present happened to be Fiance's parents taking Little Miss for a couple of days. That was great. She had a blast (probably because she got spoiled rotten since Grandparents have no idea what time out is) but was happy to come home last night and sleep in her big girl bed (which she got because she decided to pull the bars off of her other bed, so a new bed was in order. We were still pretty pissed though). And even though we missed her, we loved being able to sleep in and not hear screaming in the morning.
The trip to the grandparents was also very much needed on my end. While I love her, I have homework I needed to get done. Also, she bit my nipple when I was trying to wash soap out of her hair. That hurt. I cried hysterically into the phone talking to Future Mother-In-Law (and then on the phone with Fiance) asking her to please take her for a couple of days. Future Mother-In-Law had to call Fiance to translate, but in the end, it was all sorted out and Little Miss went to bed while I iced my nipple in misery on the sofa.
I got my presents at midnight on Valentine's Day, while watching Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time with Fiance. I got a Love Bug named George, from Build-A-Bear (so I can squeeze him and love him and hug him...) and inside of George's little box of chocolate was a gold snowflake necklace. It's so pretty. And yes, I will add pictures later.
He got what he wanted too - a back scratcher. We went into Bed, Bath and Beyond and found a back scratcher and he immediately started using it. We also went into Lindt Chocolate, where we both got chocolate, and Yankee Candle, where he got candles. This was followed by dinner at CiCi's Pizza (I don't like it, but he does, so we went there) and then a night of card games, drinking and movies with a friend who decided to stay at our house. It was a nice day overall. And my cats were happy, because my curiosity could kill a million cats. Though, I think Brother a.k.a. Simple Cat is still wobbly from a week of exposure to curiosity.
I hope everyone else had a nice Valentine's Day too!
The first present happened to be Fiance's parents taking Little Miss for a couple of days. That was great. She had a blast (probably because she got spoiled rotten since Grandparents have no idea what time out is) but was happy to come home last night and sleep in her big girl bed (which she got because she decided to pull the bars off of her other bed, so a new bed was in order. We were still pretty pissed though). And even though we missed her, we loved being able to sleep in and not hear screaming in the morning.
The trip to the grandparents was also very much needed on my end. While I love her, I have homework I needed to get done. Also, she bit my nipple when I was trying to wash soap out of her hair. That hurt. I cried hysterically into the phone talking to Future Mother-In-Law (and then on the phone with Fiance) asking her to please take her for a couple of days. Future Mother-In-Law had to call Fiance to translate, but in the end, it was all sorted out and Little Miss went to bed while I iced my nipple in misery on the sofa.
I got my presents at midnight on Valentine's Day, while watching Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time with Fiance. I got a Love Bug named George, from Build-A-Bear (so I can squeeze him and love him and hug him...) and inside of George's little box of chocolate was a gold snowflake necklace. It's so pretty. And yes, I will add pictures later.
He got what he wanted too - a back scratcher. We went into Bed, Bath and Beyond and found a back scratcher and he immediately started using it. We also went into Lindt Chocolate, where we both got chocolate, and Yankee Candle, where he got candles. This was followed by dinner at CiCi's Pizza (I don't like it, but he does, so we went there) and then a night of card games, drinking and movies with a friend who decided to stay at our house. It was a nice day overall. And my cats were happy, because my curiosity could kill a million cats. Though, I think Brother a.k.a. Simple Cat is still wobbly from a week of exposure to curiosity.
I hope everyone else had a nice Valentine's Day too!
Thursday, February 10, 2011
I'm Free!
For now, anyway. My aunt has so wonderfully decided to take Little Miss off of my hands for me while I go relax. This is very, very welcome. Little Miss has been absolutely terrible - a side effect of the terrible two's, I'm afraid, and I need some time away from her so I can relax and rejuvenate my patience and all that jazz.
My mother decides to tell me this makes me a bad mom. No, it doesn't. I'm a stay-at-home mom, and full-time college student who never gets any time alone anymore. If I didn't get out and away every now and then, I just might scream and rip my hair out. Especially with the fact that Little Miss' favorite new phrase is "I hate you." And the fact that she ignores everything I say. And rolls her eyes. I cannot stand the eye-rolling. She's two! She shouldn't be rolling her eyes yet.
So here I am, hiding out in the school computer lab, in a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie which loudly proclaim "I'm a frazzled mom and I don't care anymore" wishing there was someway I could sneak back home and go to sleep (which there isn't). Instead, I will settle for studying for psychology, working on my short story and fucking around on Facebook.
Also print out my resume, because I need a job.
Of course, I'm not really all that sure if I should go dropping off resumes looking like I just rolled out of bed. That probably wouldn't go over well with future employers.
My mother decides to tell me this makes me a bad mom. No, it doesn't. I'm a stay-at-home mom, and full-time college student who never gets any time alone anymore. If I didn't get out and away every now and then, I just might scream and rip my hair out. Especially with the fact that Little Miss' favorite new phrase is "I hate you." And the fact that she ignores everything I say. And rolls her eyes. I cannot stand the eye-rolling. She's two! She shouldn't be rolling her eyes yet.
So here I am, hiding out in the school computer lab, in a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie which loudly proclaim "I'm a frazzled mom and I don't care anymore" wishing there was someway I could sneak back home and go to sleep (which there isn't). Instead, I will settle for studying for psychology, working on my short story and fucking around on Facebook.
Also print out my resume, because I need a job.
Of course, I'm not really all that sure if I should go dropping off resumes looking like I just rolled out of bed. That probably wouldn't go over well with future employers.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
So Much For Smelling Good
So, Valentine's Day is coming up. That dreadful time of year where everything is covered in Pepto Bismal pink and little naked men with wings and arrows (i.e. Cupid) are sprinkled all over the place. So many people make such a big deal about this day created by Hallmark and various candy companies...and I'm guilty too.
Is the reason why I'm so into Valentine's Day this year is because I have someone to share it with. No, that's not it.
The truth is that dear Fiance has plans for next Monday, and refuses to tell me what they are. I abhor surprises. I HAVE to know what will happen. Finding out surprises becomes an obsession that I will not rest until I know what it is, and he knows this. He takes a sick pleasure in my trying to coax, force, bash the answer out of him. And he doesn't even crack.
However, this presents a problem for me. I have no idea what I'm going to do for him. What in the hell would I do for him? A card? Lela will shred it. Food? I'm pretty much a one dish kinda gal, and that is mac and cheese. I have no clue.
His suggestion is a backscratcher and a blowjob. My friend has suggested in covering myself with chocolate sauce, but I'm not a big fan of that idea either. And so far, his suggestion will probably mean the most out of everything, sadly enough.
And the Little Miss doesn't even know what Valentine's Day is, but will probably accept it as Candy Day and drive us insane on a sugar high, while pointing out that everything is pink. Especially while pointing out that everything is pink.
Like my $50 perfume, which she dumped out all over the bed last night. Grrrrrr.
Is the reason why I'm so into Valentine's Day this year is because I have someone to share it with. No, that's not it.
The truth is that dear Fiance has plans for next Monday, and refuses to tell me what they are. I abhor surprises. I HAVE to know what will happen. Finding out surprises becomes an obsession that I will not rest until I know what it is, and he knows this. He takes a sick pleasure in my trying to coax, force, bash the answer out of him. And he doesn't even crack.
However, this presents a problem for me. I have no idea what I'm going to do for him. What in the hell would I do for him? A card? Lela will shred it. Food? I'm pretty much a one dish kinda gal, and that is mac and cheese. I have no clue.
His suggestion is a backscratcher and a blowjob. My friend has suggested in covering myself with chocolate sauce, but I'm not a big fan of that idea either. And so far, his suggestion will probably mean the most out of everything, sadly enough.
And the Little Miss doesn't even know what Valentine's Day is, but will probably accept it as Candy Day and drive us insane on a sugar high, while pointing out that everything is pink. Especially while pointing out that everything is pink.
Like my $50 perfume, which she dumped out all over the bed last night. Grrrrrr.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Wedding Expos give out free swag. Go to them.
Today was the day of a big wedding expo that I just HAD to go to, despite the fact that my Mom ended up not coming and Fiance was like "I want my bed" and stayed home. After dropping off a movie that I'd borrowed from a friend, I went to the hotel two hours early, to wait in line for this expo. The line, by the time I got there, was in the basement. It was here I learned that the Omni does not heat their basements.
Apparently, this Expo was giving out free 8-Day Honeymoons to Mexico and free wedding band sets to the first 300 people. And I'd be damned if I didn't get within the first three hundred. (And I did, aha!) Pearl necklaces and earrings were also distributed (sweet) and then there were various other raffles throughout the day. There was food, and booze and cake. There was even cake with booze in it! It was glorious.
However, despite the fact that I wanted to spend the entire four hours there, I didn't. I ran into Maid of Honor/Fellow Bride and ended up completing my rounds around the room (why are there no florists at wedding expos? Don't most brides want flowers?) and then we left to go to a hookah bar, which was closed. At that point, I just went home. After getting gas and pizza, which Fiance had ordered in the hopes that I would pick it up.
I had bribed the Little Miss this morning with gummy sharks. I gave her one before I left and told her "There's more where that came from if you behave!" She behaved. She received a gummy shark when I got home, and I made her day.
But then again, yesterday she decided that she wanted to eat a ton of gummy sharks, which I told her she couldn't have. So when I asked for a kiss later, she told me. "No gummies, no lovin'. No sharks no love." Repeatedly.
But I did get her to pose for several pictures, because she dressed herself yesterday (after pulling out half the clothes in her dresser) and it was cute.
At least she didn't do too bad on the matching front. Though my office was kind of destroyed by the time I found out where she was, as you can tell by the papers on the floor.
Seriously, if you ever have kids, throw all hope of ever being organized ever again out of the window. It isn't going to happen.
Apparently, this Expo was giving out free 8-Day Honeymoons to Mexico and free wedding band sets to the first 300 people. And I'd be damned if I didn't get within the first three hundred. (And I did, aha!) Pearl necklaces and earrings were also distributed (sweet) and then there were various other raffles throughout the day. There was food, and booze and cake. There was even cake with booze in it! It was glorious.
However, despite the fact that I wanted to spend the entire four hours there, I didn't. I ran into Maid of Honor/Fellow Bride and ended up completing my rounds around the room (why are there no florists at wedding expos? Don't most brides want flowers?) and then we left to go to a hookah bar, which was closed. At that point, I just went home. After getting gas and pizza, which Fiance had ordered in the hopes that I would pick it up.
I had bribed the Little Miss this morning with gummy sharks. I gave her one before I left and told her "There's more where that came from if you behave!" She behaved. She received a gummy shark when I got home, and I made her day.
But then again, yesterday she decided that she wanted to eat a ton of gummy sharks, which I told her she couldn't have. So when I asked for a kiss later, she told me. "No gummies, no lovin'. No sharks no love." Repeatedly.
But I did get her to pose for several pictures, because she dressed herself yesterday (after pulling out half the clothes in her dresser) and it was cute.
Seriously, if you ever have kids, throw all hope of ever being organized ever again out of the window. It isn't going to happen.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Hyper Me is Hyper
So, apparently it is impossible for me to go to sleep before 4 a.m. This is something that Fiance is not fond of, especially because for some reason tonight, he's made it his mission to stay up with me, despite the fact that we're driving two hours away tomorrow to see my mom at 10 a.m. and one of us should be responsible and go to sleep.
Of course, they're calling for a high of 23 degrees tomorrow, so I'm all excited to go out anyway. (By the way, if it's this cold, there should be some snow here. There's no reason for it to be this cold and there's nothing to show for it.
But all this has led to is me finding the bag of gummy sharks that I bought the other day at a local Mennonite store, and devouring a couple while loudly singing the "Jaws" theme and throwing them at Fiance and giggling. He retaliated by going "Huuuuungry....huuuuuuuungry.....hungry hippos, hungry hippos..." set to the theme of "Jaws" and now it's stuck in my head.
See? Gummy sharks exist, though the pictures are blurry, like when people take pictures of the Loch Ness Monster or Bigfoot or aliens. But they're real, and they taste like blue raspberry.
I don't know why I needed to validate the fact that gummy sharks exist. I'm sure that you either 1) didn't care or 2) believed me, and if that's the case, you're sweet.
I think I'm disturbing Fiance, while he's watching The Fifth Element, seeing as I'm blaring music and random youtube videos two rooms in the way. I apologized for the loud music, and blamed it on his little brother, who decided to put a lot of random stuff on my iPod saying that I need to listen to 'the good stuff'. Yes, I do like screaming death metal whatever. But at 4 in the morning, I do not need to be listening to something soft and then have someone sounding like they're going to come through my laptop speakers and eat me.
Though any song called "Bondage Goat Zombie" is a win in my book.
Of course, they're calling for a high of 23 degrees tomorrow, so I'm all excited to go out anyway. (By the way, if it's this cold, there should be some snow here. There's no reason for it to be this cold and there's nothing to show for it.
But all this has led to is me finding the bag of gummy sharks that I bought the other day at a local Mennonite store, and devouring a couple while loudly singing the "Jaws" theme and throwing them at Fiance and giggling. He retaliated by going "Huuuuungry....huuuuuuuungry.....hungry hippos, hungry hippos..." set to the theme of "Jaws" and now it's stuck in my head.
See? Gummy sharks exist, though the pictures are blurry, like when people take pictures of the Loch Ness Monster or Bigfoot or aliens. But they're real, and they taste like blue raspberry.
I don't know why I needed to validate the fact that gummy sharks exist. I'm sure that you either 1) didn't care or 2) believed me, and if that's the case, you're sweet.
I think I'm disturbing Fiance, while he's watching The Fifth Element, seeing as I'm blaring music and random youtube videos two rooms in the way. I apologized for the loud music, and blamed it on his little brother, who decided to put a lot of random stuff on my iPod saying that I need to listen to 'the good stuff'. Yes, I do like screaming death metal whatever. But at 4 in the morning, I do not need to be listening to something soft and then have someone sounding like they're going to come through my laptop speakers and eat me.
Though any song called "Bondage Goat Zombie" is a win in my book.
Friday, January 21, 2011
I'm so glad that Fiance can cook.
So, it was previously established a long time ago that I can not cook. Maybe it was from when I was 12 and I set my aunt's microwave on fire because no one ever told me that aluminum foil doesn't go in the microwave, or maybe it's because I can burn water. Macaroni and cheese, tater tots, chicken nuggets, and porcupine meatballs are about the only things I can cook, not including things I can just toss in the microwave (without aluminum foil). I can bake like no one's business, but cooking? Not so much.
Thankfully, Fiance is skilled at cooking. I mean, he makes AWESOME food, seriously. This is good, because that means Little Miss and I won't starve and bad, because he 1) cooks almost everything with gravy, and 2) I feel like I've gained five pounds after eating.
Take tonight for instance.
He'd been bugging me to let him make turkey burgers for the past week, and tonight, after Little Miss was put to bathed and put to bed, I told him to go ahead and make them. So, at 10:22 PM, he finally starts to make the turkey burgers. He keeps coming in and asking me questions about spices ("What do you think about rosemary? Should I grind it up?") and cheese ("I'm putting the cheese inside the burger, is that all right?") And I give him my opinion and go back to chatting on Facebook.
Then, I notice moaning coming from the kitchen, and I'm curious, and slightly worried. Just what the hell is he doing in there that requires "Oh God....yes....Mmmm....so good...." So I get up and go into the kitchen, and I find this in the frying pan.
I had just cleaned the stove top too....
"What do you think? This one's yours!" He beamed.
That's a one-pound turkey burger filled with cheese and spices. It smelled so good. But it was huge. (This was the smaller one. He ate the bigger one himself). A few minutes later, more moaning comes from the kitchen and I expect to see yet another gargantuan burger, but instead, I see this:
That was my turkey burger smothered in a gravy filled with cilantro and red peppers. We settled down and he waited until I took the first bite, apparently anxious that I would be like "This shit sucks!" and flip the table over or something.
I took a bite. It was good. I took another bite. He smiled like a child who's come home from school with an ashtray made out of their hand print and proceeded to eat. Man vs. Food was on the television in the other room, and apparently that convinced us that we had to eat our entire burger. We were in a competition now, and one that I lost. He finished his burger while I stared at the plate, wanting to eat more but having my stomach go "Please don't." My desire to prove to him that I can eat the burger overwhelmed my desire to not eat, and I finished it, pushing my empty plate at him as if to say, "Yeah, what else you got. I can do it!"
He then pulled out ice cream. I hung my head in shame and admitted defeat. He grinned triumphantly.
I think his whole plan is going to backfire tonight when we go to bed and he wants to do "stuff."
Fiance: "Hey honey..."
Me: *snoring as a result of food coma*
Fiance: "Damn."
Thankfully, Fiance is skilled at cooking. I mean, he makes AWESOME food, seriously. This is good, because that means Little Miss and I won't starve and bad, because he 1) cooks almost everything with gravy, and 2) I feel like I've gained five pounds after eating.
Take tonight for instance.
He'd been bugging me to let him make turkey burgers for the past week, and tonight, after Little Miss was put to bathed and put to bed, I told him to go ahead and make them. So, at 10:22 PM, he finally starts to make the turkey burgers. He keeps coming in and asking me questions about spices ("What do you think about rosemary? Should I grind it up?") and cheese ("I'm putting the cheese inside the burger, is that all right?") And I give him my opinion and go back to chatting on Facebook.
Then, I notice moaning coming from the kitchen, and I'm curious, and slightly worried. Just what the hell is he doing in there that requires "Oh God....yes....Mmmm....so good...." So I get up and go into the kitchen, and I find this in the frying pan.
"What do you think? This one's yours!" He beamed.
That's a one-pound turkey burger filled with cheese and spices. It smelled so good. But it was huge. (This was the smaller one. He ate the bigger one himself). A few minutes later, more moaning comes from the kitchen and I expect to see yet another gargantuan burger, but instead, I see this:
That was my turkey burger smothered in a gravy filled with cilantro and red peppers. We settled down and he waited until I took the first bite, apparently anxious that I would be like "This shit sucks!" and flip the table over or something.
I took a bite. It was good. I took another bite. He smiled like a child who's come home from school with an ashtray made out of their hand print and proceeded to eat. Man vs. Food was on the television in the other room, and apparently that convinced us that we had to eat our entire burger. We were in a competition now, and one that I lost. He finished his burger while I stared at the plate, wanting to eat more but having my stomach go "Please don't." My desire to prove to him that I can eat the burger overwhelmed my desire to not eat, and I finished it, pushing my empty plate at him as if to say, "Yeah, what else you got. I can do it!"
He then pulled out ice cream. I hung my head in shame and admitted defeat. He grinned triumphantly.
I think his whole plan is going to backfire tonight when we go to bed and he wants to do "stuff."
Fiance: "Hey honey..."
Me: *snoring as a result of food coma*
Fiance: "Damn."
Why I would lose a fight with a two year old.
I realized yesterday that if I were to ever enter a boxing ring and fight against my two year old, I would probably lose.
"Why?" You might ask. "She's two? Are you that weak and pathetic that you would lose against a two year old?"
Let me let you in on a little secret: I'm convinced this child is not just a normal two year old.
For starters, she's over half as tall as I am. I'm 5'0". She comes up over my waist. This can be explained through her father, who is also freakishly tall at 6'5". (I actually had a lady ask if I have to stand up on a step stool to kiss him. The answer is no, I don't. He has to bend down and I have to stand on my tiptoes. However, if a step stool is around, I sometimes will use it to even the playing field, so to speak.)
Another reason, is that she's vicious. A little kid came up at the playground and hit her in the back. She retaliated by whipping around and kicking him in the testicles. The cat got in her way while she was on her quest to get into the cat food while I was trying to fix the TV, and she sodomized him with a fork. That cat didn't come inside for days.
She also has this habit of grabbing onto your nipples, and will not let go no matter what to do. I don't care if you're Danny Trejo - if there are thirty pounds of laughing, amused toddler swinging back and forth and holding onto your nipples, you'd fall to the ground in pain too.
See? He doesn't like the sound of that.
Little Miss finds your weak spots, and she uses them for her own enjoyment. Does she need to mercilessly grab onto your nipples with a Death Grip that will frighten Chuck Norris away? No. But she does it anyway. Why?
Because while you're screaming and doing everything in your power besides bashing her over the head with a $145 psychology textbook, she's having the time of her life. She will fall down, pulling on your sensitive ta-tas even more, and swing back and forth, laughing at your tears.
Of course, I discipline her for it. Does that ruin the amusement factor for her? Of course not. She thinks it's funny, Daddy thinks it's funny....hell, even my own parents think it's funny. I apparently, do not get the joke.
In conclusion, my freakishly tall, vicious two year old can totally take me down in a boxing match if she ever uses the Toddler Nipple Death Grip again.
"Why?" You might ask. "She's two? Are you that weak and pathetic that you would lose against a two year old?"
Let me let you in on a little secret: I'm convinced this child is not just a normal two year old.
For starters, she's over half as tall as I am. I'm 5'0". She comes up over my waist. This can be explained through her father, who is also freakishly tall at 6'5". (I actually had a lady ask if I have to stand up on a step stool to kiss him. The answer is no, I don't. He has to bend down and I have to stand on my tiptoes. However, if a step stool is around, I sometimes will use it to even the playing field, so to speak.)
Another reason, is that she's vicious. A little kid came up at the playground and hit her in the back. She retaliated by whipping around and kicking him in the testicles. The cat got in her way while she was on her quest to get into the cat food while I was trying to fix the TV, and she sodomized him with a fork. That cat didn't come inside for days.
She also has this habit of grabbing onto your nipples, and will not let go no matter what to do. I don't care if you're Danny Trejo - if there are thirty pounds of laughing, amused toddler swinging back and forth and holding onto your nipples, you'd fall to the ground in pain too.
Little Miss finds your weak spots, and she uses them for her own enjoyment. Does she need to mercilessly grab onto your nipples with a Death Grip that will frighten Chuck Norris away? No. But she does it anyway. Why?
Because while you're screaming and doing everything in your power besides bashing her over the head with a $145 psychology textbook, she's having the time of her life. She will fall down, pulling on your sensitive ta-tas even more, and swing back and forth, laughing at your tears.
Of course, I discipline her for it. Does that ruin the amusement factor for her? Of course not. She thinks it's funny, Daddy thinks it's funny....hell, even my own parents think it's funny. I apparently, do not get the joke.
In conclusion, my freakishly tall, vicious two year old can totally take me down in a boxing match if she ever uses the Toddler Nipple Death Grip again.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)