You Don’t Want To Mess With Me

Every week I have these grand plans to post every day, and then I wake up early, work all day, take care of the baby, and just want to sleep. I think that’s good: work, family, and sleep/taking care of myself should all have priority over writing here, but I miss it sometimes. So here I am!

I went to a wedding last weekend. It was the only wedding I’ve been to all year. The lesson I learned this weekend is don’t sit with your coworkers if you don’t have to. There were perfectly nice, but it was all “be on your best behavior” instead of “be silly and have fun.” However, I do have to say that the happy couple really looked fantastic, and they seemed to be having a fabulous time. That’s really all that matters.

I need to start a feud with someone. I don’t have a work nemesis anymore, and my life is so much less interesting because of it. (To be honest, my former nemesis and I have had very limited contact since the winking incident. I’m afraid I may have frightened him. I did have a pregnancy nemesis for a while, but I’m kind of over that too. Yes, she lost all of the pregnancy weight immediately and is probably even way more fit than she was before she got pregnant. And yes, she claims that her baby has slept through the night since he was a few weeks old. BUT, hello, B is the cutest baby ever, so really, she can’t compete.

I don’t even have any good nemesis candidates right now. Suggestions?

New York Is Where I’d Rather Stay

We went to the farm of my parents-in-law a couple of weekends ago in order to see my sister-in-law who was visiting from Texas. She is due with her first baby in January, so she flew up to visit before she has any travel restrictions. We had a good time seeing her, and there was a baby shower for her on Sunday.

But first, we had to meet the wildlife. H’s dad and brother raise hogs; they each have their own barns, but they work together. I have never been in the hog barns, and let me tell you why. Hogs are LOUD. And hogs smell DISGUSTING. I can hear and smell them from quite a distance, so I really do not see the need to actually go into the barns. Plus, I have seen hogs before, and they all look pretty much the same.

But H’s brother started raising cows this summer, and they are much quieter and less smelly, so we went to see them. (And by went to see them, I mean we walked like 500 feet from the house.)

I like taking B out to the farm so he can see how H grew up. I think that when B gets a little bit older, he will be excited to ride on all the tractors and the back hoe and whatever random machinery H’s dad owns that I could not name if you paid me.

I think H thinks I am anti-farm, but I’m not. I’m just allergic to pretty much everything, and I am of the opinion that if you’ve seen one chicken/pig/cow, you’ve seen them all. I admit that I get antsy if we stay at the farm too long because I feel bored and isolated. That’s really not about the farm though; it’s about being trapped with 25 people in one house with nowhere else to go and nothing to do. If H is being honest, he will admit that when we visit my mom’s house, H needs time away from the house too.

I can pretend to be excited about the farm if B is excited about it. But I’m still not going out to the hog barns.

Weird Things People Have Said To Me Lately

H’s aunt: My kids have never eaten hard candy.
My sister-in-law: Why not?
H’s aunt: They’re not allowed to. I’m afraid they will choke.
Her kids are 22, 20, and 16.

***

H’s aunt: I though B would be bigger.
I think this was a veiled insult, but it really only bothered me at all because I am already sensitive about B’s weight. I should have said, “That’s funny. B thought you’d be thinner.”

***

H had a freakishly large eyebrow hair that was sticking straight out. I didn’t notice it until we were in the car, and H was driving.
Me: I’ll try to pluck it when we get to that stoplight.
H: Why? So then everyone can see us?
Me: I’m not going to try to pluck your eyebrow hair while you’re driving.

***

This isn’t something anyone said to me, but I tried on some clothes today when H, B, and I went shopping. I realized AFTER SEVERAL HOURS that when I put my shirt back on in the dressing room, I had put it on inside out. So if you saw a weird lady in an inside-out shirt at the Mall of America or Target today, yes, that was me.

Maternal Instincts

In early January, I read a magazine article about trusting your maternal instincts, and the article has stuck in my mind for all these months. The article gave an example of a mom who toured a daycare and felt like something was a little off, but the mom really wanted to give the daycare provider the benefit of the doubt. In the end, the mom trusted her instincts and sent her baby elsewhere, and it turned out that the daycare provider was literally walking the dog alone outside, leaving a group of toddlers alone in her house for at least 15 minutes at a time. Way to go, maternal instincts!

This example makes sense. Your instincts (maternal or not) can and should be used to tell whether someone is trustworthy or not.

The second example annoyed me when I read it, and it still annoys me. A kid was sick, so his mom took him to the doctor. The doctor  said that the kid probably had Disease A. The mom’s instincts told her the diagnosis was wrong, so she took her kid to a specialist. That specialist said the kid had Disease A. The mom’s instincts again told her the diagnosis was wrong, so she took her son to another specialist. She took her kid to specialist after specialist for two years, until finally her instincts told her a specialist’s diagnosis was right, and then her son became healthier. According to the article, hooray for instincts! According to me, BOOO!

Do your instincts have a medical degree? Can your instincts read an MRI and analyze the results of medical tests? No. That is stupid. Your instincts could tell you that a doctor isn’t treating you seriously. Your instincts could tell you that your kid seems to be feeling worse instead of better. But I do not believe for one second that your instincts can tell you that your kid does or doesn’t have a specific ailment. Your instincts can’t tell you that science isn’t true. Do I think you should get a second opinion about a serious diagnosis? Yes. But I also think that if the blood test tells you that you have malaria, I don’t care if your gut tells you that you don’t have malaria. You have malaria.

Fashion Faux Pas

On Sunday morning I got up with B when he woke up, gave him a bath, and got him dressed. I had him wear a cute new striped short sleeve polo-shirt-but-really-a-onesie. When H saw what B was wearing, H reminded me that it was game day. I said that I knew that and he and B would have a good time watching the Vikings game together. H looked at B again pointedly and repeated that it was game day. Then H changed B into his Vikings jersey-but-really-a-onesie, and H put on his Vikings actually-a-jersey. I can’t believe I made such an embarrassing fashion faux pas. One simply MUST wear his Vikings jersey on game day.

While the guys watched the football game, I went to a bridal shower for a friend. I am not a huge fan of showers in general, watching someone open presents just doesn’t do it for me, but I do enjoy spending time with women I like, so I was happy to go. I was worried I was going to be late because I got off to a late start and I live farther from the hostess’s house than anyone else who was going, but I was right on time. Well, to be honest, I was two minutes late, but I think that counts as right on time. When I got there, the only other people there were the bride and the hostess. No one else (even the co-hostess) showed up for another 45 minutes. The last person finally got there an hour and 15 minutes after the shower was supposed to start. The hostess was serving warm food, and she was really scurrying around trying to keep things warm without overcooking everything. The bride seemed kind of embarrassed that no one was there. And I was extremely annoyed because I think it’s rude that the other people all seemed to think that the rest of us should just wait around for them because we don’t have any other plans and their time is more important than ours. Once everyone arrived, it was actually very nice, and we didn’t have to play any weird games or pass the presents around in a circle and make polite comments about them. We just sat and ate and talked and laughed and watched the bride open presents.

Important News Alerts

- That last post was supposed to be about how I dislike it when people represent their marriages as perfect and wonderful and happy smiley sunshine rainbows, and I was trying to explain why I don’t write about the many arguments exciting discussions that H and I have, but then it turned into a sappy barf-fest, so I think the point may have been lost. I love H. I love that last night he watched both (1) a documentary on how to make pianos and (2) UFC – Ultimate Fighting Championship – mixed martial arts fights. But our marriage isn’t perfect, though I try not to write about the negative stuff here.

- Remember the people in my neighborhood who have a tractor in their front yard? I drove by on Tuesday morning to discover that now there are TWO tractors in their front yard. What the heck is going on here, people?!

- I am already starting to think about B’s first birthday party. I guess it’s not that far away; it’s like 6 weeks or so from now. I am going to try to make cupcakes that look like lions and monkeys. That’s really the whole plan at this point. We are going to invite some friends and family, not that any of our friends would really be too excited to celebrate a one-year-old boy’s birthday, but let’s be honest: this party is more for H and me than it is for B. I am pretty sure that B does not understand the concept of birthdays or parties. The cupcakes are going to be awesome though.

Why’d You Have to Go And Make Things So Complicated

H is a complicated dude, as illustrated by his Facebook status. Each day, H has been coming up with Star Wars discussion topics and using them as as his Facebook status.  Some examples he has used:

Is Luke Skywalker a redneck? He grew up on a dirt farm in the middle of nowhere. He kissed his sister. He kills small animals with his T-16. and his father murdered his mother.

Todays topic: Why would Jabba be sexually attracted to Leia? They are two different species, different genus, probably even different orders.

Interspersed among the discussion topics are random updates (that some of you may not appreciate, I realize) such as:

So the “protests” in DC this weekend where organized by Dick Armey and his group called Freedom Watch. Funny, Dick Armey gathers together an Army of Dicks.

I am not generally a fan of most political posts on Facebook, but H’s comment made me laugh.

A few weeks ago, on Together They Come, the author wrote:

I don’t really let loose on here when it comes to an argument or differences with my husband.  I know why.  I don’t want to make him seem like a bad guy.  Because he’s not.  But at the same time we are human and even though I love him very much, we still have our moments.  I play my part in these moments too.  I’m not going to deny that.  And what I always find interesting is I struggle to really let it out on here, but what helps me IS reading other blogs that are honest.  Or talking to my girlfriends and finding out that they lose it too, and yes, their husbands drive them nuts as well.

I try not to write anything negative about H here. I like when people are honest about their marriages. I can empathize with both the ups and downs of daily life. I understand when people complain about the little (and sometimes big) things their spouses do that drive them crazy. But I don’t want to create a record of arguments I have with H. Writing about the bad stuff, and having it out there on the internet forever, means that even if I forget about a disagreement, the other people who read this might not. I just don’t want that.

I’m not criticizing anyone for writing about the negative. I understand if it works for you. I’m only trying to write about why I try not to.

And to end this on a barfy note, here’s another random Facebook status written by H:

whenever i look at my son i see so much of my wife in him. It is amazing to look at the person you love the most and see the person you love the most.

Labor Day Weekend

Saturday, I cleaned all day. I cleaned and organized and put things away for at least six hours. It was not fun. The reason for the cleaning spree is that two friends came over to watch B Saturday night, while H and I stayed overnight at a hotel to celebrate our anniversary. The two friends who watched B are the two biggest neat freaks I know, so I felt the need to get everything in our house as clean as possible. I know it still wasn’t up to their standards, but at least they hopefully weren’t grossed out.

I told someone today that my friends watched B, and he thought it was kind of weird that my friends agreed to watch B. I don’t think it’s weird, but I don’t really care either way. The only family we have nearby is H’s sister. She babysits probably every 4 to 6 weeks, which is awesome. I hated to ask her to watch B overnight because I think it is asking too much for a single person to take care of B for that long. By asking a couple to watch B, they could take turns getting up with B during the night, and having two people just makes meals, showering, EVERYTHING so much easier. Plus, the guy is one of my best friends, and he and his girlfriend have told us many times that they would babysit for us anytime we wanted, so I felt comfortable asking them to watch B overnight. We gave them a $50 gift card to Target as a thank you gift. I probably should have gotten them a bigger gift card considering that, even though they said B slept fine, they later told me that B woke up at midnight and 2:30 am, and then B woke up at 4:30 am and would not go back to sleep until 6 am.

H and I had a totally wild night away. We got milkshakes at Sonic, went out to dinner, and goofed around at a casino. Then I passed out in the hotel at 11 pm and slept until 8:30! I sincerely acted different on Sunday. It was like I was my old pre-baby-self again. It only lasted the one day – I’m already exhausted again – but it gave me hope that some day I may have the same energy I used to.

We took B to the pool on Sunday afternoon, and I think he is finally at the stage where going to the pool is worth it. It is more fun than it is work now. We also realized that it is not worth it to try to shower and clean B up in the locker room. I’m not sure why it took us until the end of the summer to realize that, but oh well. We can continue to use that knowledge since the gym we go to has an indoor pool as well.

Monday we just hung around and enjoyed having a clean (to us) house.

And now H and I are kind of at a loss. We had been watching Seasons 1 and 2 of Leverage on Netflix via Xbox 360, but now we are all caught up! I thought the show looked pretty dumb when I saw the commercials, but it is not. It is kind of similar to Burn Notice, but with less explosions and more humor. Plus, I do not find the guy on Burn Notice attractive, but there are TWO hot characters on Leverage. We had been watching at least two episodes of Leverage a night, after B went to bed, and now (1) we have nothing to do, and (2) we have to wait until WEDNESDAY to watch another episode! Oh, the horror!

Forever

On September 3rd, H and I will have been married for four years. We’ve been together for eight years total.

That’s more than a quarter of my life. Wow.

My life has changed in so many ways since and because H and I are married. On my own, I used to go through shampoo much faster than conditioner, but now, with H, we always finish the conditioner first. I watch NFL games now. I cheer for the Twins. I know which comics are DC Comics and which are Marvel Comics. I know the names of fighters in the UFC. There are little things too, like we bought a house and had a baby.

H is disappointed this post isn’t more mushy. He is annoyed that I wrote about conditioner instead of about how love lifted us up where we belong, where the eagles fly, on a mountain high, or something similar. I am not in a mushy mood though.

H and I disagree, and we do fight sometimes. But H makes me laugh. All the time. At stupid things like this repetitive guitar riff on a radio commercial. We are very different, but we can always make each other laugh, and I think we’ll always have that.

Dorks Forever!

Lame

Yeah, I haven’t written anything for a while. I have been busy.

Swistle asked her readers a while ago how they define “drunk.” I was really surprised by the answers. Most of the answers were along the lines of you know you’re drunk when you wake up the next morning on the bathroom floor. I think that might have been my answer when I was in college, but hi, I’m 30 years old now. I think I’m drunk when I start slurring my words or saying things I wouldn’t normally say. Not that other people can’t define being drunk however they want; it just surprised me.

Speaking of being drunk, when I went to that bachelorette party in Las Vegas a few years ago, I didn’t feel drunk at any point while I was there. I think that’s because when I looked around, I saw random people vomiting in the streets, carrying around 3-foot-high drinks, and acting like total idiots. But one night, I drank a few glasses of wine, some sake, and at least three screwdrivers, and I thought I was fine. I thought that since I wasn’t vomiting or falling over like other people in the street, I was doing ok. Yeah, there’s a different gauge of “drunk” in Las Vegas.

So, are you wondering how the bachelorette party I went to last weekend was? It was fine. I only knew the bride and two other women before I went, but my friend’s friends are all very nice. I felt kind of like I didn’t fit in, but I think that’s because at least half the group went to law school together, so they all knew each other and had these shared stories that I wasn’t a part of. The other reason I felt kind of like I didn’t fit it was that I felt like most of the women there were “mommies.” I don’t know how to explain it. I’m a mom. Being a mom is a huge part of my life right now. But I don’t feel like it defines me. Maybe it does, and I just don’t realize it. I mean, if your only knowledge of me is reading this blog then you are probably thinking that I am an obsessed mommy who does nothing but talk about her kid. But I felt like a large group of these women were mommies first, women second. They didn’t want to talk about anything but their kids. They dressed like “moms.” I don’t really know how to explain it. Do you have any idea what I’m talking about? I don’t have any problems with people being moms first, women second, but a bachelorette party isn’t really the place for that, I think.

We had a wine tasting, and the wine was really, really good. We had prosecco, which I had never had before and did not expect to like, but I loved it. The only one I didn’t like was some kind of red wine, but I am not a fan of reds, so that was to be expected.

I was totally lame, and when the party moved to a third bar at midnight, I left with two other women, and we went back to the hotel and went to sleep. I could not give up the opportunity to get some uninterrupted sleep!

Seriously, mother? Lame.