As usual, I'm late to the party. I had planned on doing this post, oh you know, about 2 weeks ago, but I apparently suck at time management. So yeah, it's a new year and I like to think that before we can move forward, we have to look at the past, so we can reflect and learn. I don't really think that. I really think that what's done is done, no sense crying over spilled milk, why would you buy the cow when you can get the milk for free...no wait. That's not the right saying. I've derailed.
Without further ado, I present to you my Best Posts of 2009 (in my humble opinion of course). Here we go.
10. 10 Years - This was to my babies on their 10th birthday, who aren't so much babies anymore as wonderful little young people.
9. Karma gets you every time - Poop. Tampons. Toilet overflow. Is there anything else to say?
8. Domestic Bliss - An ode to crafting. And you know what? Fuck crafting.
7. Kicked out of the Cardigan Club - I still don't fit in with these Coach wearing/carrying bitches. Apparently, a lot of you don't either. This is was one of my most commented, most e-mailed about, most talked about posts in 2009.
6. Get your boobs off my donut - The title really says it all...
5. Scrooge McDuck and Magellan do Boston - Tunnels, near death experiences, Boston...what else could it be? ROADTRIP!
4. Animal Voodoo - More near death experiences.
3. Furry buzzing overlords - A guest post written by Chris, that makes me laugh so hard I pee my pants. He's freaking hilarious.
2. The scary truth about Fiber One - I am an AWESOME mom
1. My Story - I shared my experience with domestic violence with Violence UnSilenced. It was the hardest and most rewarding thing I've ever done. Closure, finally, is a beautiful thing. Thank you Maggie, for giving me the opportunity.
I got mad skills, yo.
I know that my posts are kinda few and far between lately, but I have a good reason. I've taken on yet another new role: General Contractor. Yep, that's right, Miss I Suck At All Things Home Improvementy is now a general contractor. The good thing about being a general contractor is that I don't have to use a glue gun like for stupid crafting. The bad thing about being a general contractor is that I don't get use a glue gun like for stupid crafting because that would be way easier than the other tools I find myself using.
For instance, last weekend I put up tile in the kitchen (BY MYSELF thankyouvermuch). So I went to Home Depot and asked the tile guy for help. He kept asking me all these questions like, do you have a grout float? I was like, dude. I don't even know what grout is, let alone why I'd want to float it. Or what I'd float it in. Or why. Why don't you just tell me what I need. Ok? Thanks so much. He was like, oh, ok. So you've never done this before. Good call buddy. So he gets me this stuff, which was basically like a big sheet of double-sided tape, and assured me I could do this. So not believing him, I was like, if you say so. What's next? He gives me this big box of powder (which is apparently what grout comes in before you add water and make a horrible mess all over your new floors). I told him I REALLY wanted the premixed kind, he said I didn't. I suppose he was right about that, because it was really fun mixing it with the drill bit extender stirrer thngy (see how I've learned all the technical names for tools now?). $120 later and I was off to hopefully not wreck the kitchen that I'd spent almost a month fixing. It really was easy, way easier than I thought it would be. I did stick my head to the wall a couple of times (that double sided tape stuff is REALLY sticky), and I did get black grout everywhere. And I did ruin some of the tile when I threw across the room because it wouldn't go on the wall straight. But I did it. BY MYSELF. Did I mention I did it by myself?
This week I've been working on staining the cabinets. I think I'm completely high on the fumes, but the cabinets look great. I'm thisclose to finishing the kitchen, and I can't wait to show y'all how awesome it is. In the meantime, please be patient with me. This whole homeownership thing is way more time consuming than I'd thought it would be. On the other hand, more validation for my awesomeness is never a bad thing.
For instance, last weekend I put up tile in the kitchen (BY MYSELF thankyouvermuch). So I went to Home Depot and asked the tile guy for help. He kept asking me all these questions like, do you have a grout float? I was like, dude. I don't even know what grout is, let alone why I'd want to float it. Or what I'd float it in. Or why. Why don't you just tell me what I need. Ok? Thanks so much. He was like, oh, ok. So you've never done this before. Good call buddy. So he gets me this stuff, which was basically like a big sheet of double-sided tape, and assured me I could do this. So not believing him, I was like, if you say so. What's next? He gives me this big box of powder (which is apparently what grout comes in before you add water and make a horrible mess all over your new floors). I told him I REALLY wanted the premixed kind, he said I didn't. I suppose he was right about that, because it was really fun mixing it with the drill bit extender stirrer thngy (see how I've learned all the technical names for tools now?). $120 later and I was off to hopefully not wreck the kitchen that I'd spent almost a month fixing. It really was easy, way easier than I thought it would be. I did stick my head to the wall a couple of times (that double sided tape stuff is REALLY sticky), and I did get black grout everywhere. And I did ruin some of the tile when I threw across the room because it wouldn't go on the wall straight. But I did it. BY MYSELF. Did I mention I did it by myself?
This week I've been working on staining the cabinets. I think I'm completely high on the fumes, but the cabinets look great. I'm thisclose to finishing the kitchen, and I can't wait to show y'all how awesome it is. In the meantime, please be patient with me. This whole homeownership thing is way more time consuming than I'd thought it would be. On the other hand, more validation for my awesomeness is never a bad thing.
Things I've discovered since being domesticated
Since I've been staying at home, being all domestic and stuff, I've learned all kinds of interesting things about myself that I never knew before. I don't know, maybe the drugs are finally starting to wear off, or maybe the effects are just kicking in...
1. I make a kick ass grilled cheese sandwich. I mean, it's GOOD. Like restaurant good. I didn't know that. I've made grilled cheese for Chris and the kids, but I'd never eaten one I'd made before. Since being home all day, I get really hungry for lunch, and you can only eat Chef Boyardee so many times before you have to cave and make real food (yeah, grilled cheese counts as real food). I don't know why it's so good, probably because I'm awesome, so it only stands to reason my grilled cheese is as well.
2. No matter how many loads of laundry I do, there's always more. Always. No matter what. The other day, I spent the whole day doing laundry. When I finally finished, I was strutting around, so proud that I'd finally conquered the Battle of the Laundry. To my utter dismay, there was a sock...ONE freakin sock...in the basket. I don't know how it got there. I don't know where the other one was, I didn't have any extras, everything I'd folded had a match. I'm convinced that there is some evil sock gnome that is just not playing fair. When I find him, I'm going to punch him in the face. I'm just sayin...
3. The UPS guy is even more exciting now than he was before. A couple days ago I got a package from Pottery Barn (more on that in a minute). And while I was excited about my package, I was thrilled to see the UPS guy. I was all, Hai! How are you today? He's all, here you go ma'am, have a nice day. I'm all, wait! Don't you want to have a cup of coffee? I could make you a grilled cheese sandwich! He's all, no thank you, ma'am. Have a nice day. He starts pulling the door closed and I'm like, wait! Don't go! Talk to me! Are you enjoying the weather? I just moved here from Maine, it's cold there. My favorite color is green. I like sunsets and puppies, please don't go, please talk to me! He's all walking quickly to his truck, furtively glancing over his shoulder to make sure I'm not following him, which I totally am. By the time he gets to his truck, he's at a near sprint. Maybe I scared him, I don't see why though. I just wanted some human contact. I get kind of lonely during the day. And it's not like I was going to chase the truck ALL the way down the street...
4. I love, love, love Pottery Barn. I'm trying to make my whole house an homage to the perfection that is Pottery Barn. Last night I was looking at their catalog for the zillionth time, trying to decide if $129 for velvet drapes was really too much to spend, and Chris was like, you know the whole house doesn't HAVE to be from Pottery Barn. I was like, YES IT DOES. YOU SAID I COULD DO WHATEVER I WANTED TO AND I WANT POTTERY BARN! WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM? He's like, um...first, you're nuts. Second, I like it too, but don't you think it's a little expensive? I scoffed, it's not like I get a paycheck anymore. The least you can do is pay me in Pottery Barn. He's all, but we have a mortgage now...blah, blah, blah. I love Pottery Barn. I want more Pottery Barn things in my house. That's all I have to say about that.
5. I'm still as crazy as before (as evident by this completely rambing nonsensical post). I still break out into dance in public. I still bust a move in the kitchen when I'm making dinner. I still burst into song randomly. The other day we were in the car and Chris was talking to the kids about the Panama Canal (I forget why, but I readily admit it's an odd subject to be discussing in the car...or at all, for that matter), and I'm just contently looking out the window, when all of a sudden, Panama! Panama-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! PANAMA! You know, a la Van Halen? It just kinda came out. Kat started laughing, and I was like, what? She's like, mom, you're nuts. Ain't that the truth.
1. I make a kick ass grilled cheese sandwich. I mean, it's GOOD. Like restaurant good. I didn't know that. I've made grilled cheese for Chris and the kids, but I'd never eaten one I'd made before. Since being home all day, I get really hungry for lunch, and you can only eat Chef Boyardee so many times before you have to cave and make real food (yeah, grilled cheese counts as real food). I don't know why it's so good, probably because I'm awesome, so it only stands to reason my grilled cheese is as well.
2. No matter how many loads of laundry I do, there's always more. Always. No matter what. The other day, I spent the whole day doing laundry. When I finally finished, I was strutting around, so proud that I'd finally conquered the Battle of the Laundry. To my utter dismay, there was a sock...ONE freakin sock...in the basket. I don't know how it got there. I don't know where the other one was, I didn't have any extras, everything I'd folded had a match. I'm convinced that there is some evil sock gnome that is just not playing fair. When I find him, I'm going to punch him in the face. I'm just sayin...
3. The UPS guy is even more exciting now than he was before. A couple days ago I got a package from Pottery Barn (more on that in a minute). And while I was excited about my package, I was thrilled to see the UPS guy. I was all, Hai! How are you today? He's all, here you go ma'am, have a nice day. I'm all, wait! Don't you want to have a cup of coffee? I could make you a grilled cheese sandwich! He's all, no thank you, ma'am. Have a nice day. He starts pulling the door closed and I'm like, wait! Don't go! Talk to me! Are you enjoying the weather? I just moved here from Maine, it's cold there. My favorite color is green. I like sunsets and puppies, please don't go, please talk to me! He's all walking quickly to his truck, furtively glancing over his shoulder to make sure I'm not following him, which I totally am. By the time he gets to his truck, he's at a near sprint. Maybe I scared him, I don't see why though. I just wanted some human contact. I get kind of lonely during the day. And it's not like I was going to chase the truck ALL the way down the street...
4. I love, love, love Pottery Barn. I'm trying to make my whole house an homage to the perfection that is Pottery Barn. Last night I was looking at their catalog for the zillionth time, trying to decide if $129 for velvet drapes was really too much to spend, and Chris was like, you know the whole house doesn't HAVE to be from Pottery Barn. I was like, YES IT DOES. YOU SAID I COULD DO WHATEVER I WANTED TO AND I WANT POTTERY BARN! WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM? He's like, um...first, you're nuts. Second, I like it too, but don't you think it's a little expensive? I scoffed, it's not like I get a paycheck anymore. The least you can do is pay me in Pottery Barn. He's all, but we have a mortgage now...blah, blah, blah. I love Pottery Barn. I want more Pottery Barn things in my house. That's all I have to say about that.
5. I'm still as crazy as before (as evident by this completely rambing nonsensical post). I still break out into dance in public. I still bust a move in the kitchen when I'm making dinner. I still burst into song randomly. The other day we were in the car and Chris was talking to the kids about the Panama Canal (I forget why, but I readily admit it's an odd subject to be discussing in the car...or at all, for that matter), and I'm just contently looking out the window, when all of a sudden, Panama! Panama-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! PANAMA! You know, a la Van Halen? It just kinda came out. Kat started laughing, and I was like, what? She's like, mom, you're nuts. Ain't that the truth.
Seismic shift
I never really wanted to be "someone's wife". And I never really wanted to be one of those moms whose days revolved around her children. I wanted my own life, I wanted my own interests, and more than anything else, I wanted to retain my independence. When we moved, everything I thought I was, everything I thought I wanted, everything in my life completely shifted. My days are now filled with laundry, dishes, vacuuming, ironing, sewing buttons and thinking about healthy meals and snacks for my family. Sometimes I find myself feeling like I'm living someone else's life, I mean, this is Merritt. 110% independent, snarky, and a total disaster when it comes to anything domestic related. Or at least that's how I thought I was. Maybe I'm not at all who I thought, and maybe that's not such a terrible thing.
This morning I got up with Chris at 5:30 to have breakfast with him before he went to work. Granted it was Eggo waffles, but the old me would've never done that. I would have half-heartedly said goodbye to him as he left, not even bothering to open my eyes. When it was time for the kids to get up, I would have gotten them up and gone back to bed, confident that they could take showers and get ready themselves, certainly capable of getting their own cereal. Now, I get up before them so I can make them a hot breakfast, usually something along the lines of scrambled eggs, peanut butter toast and some kind of fruit, that I've peeled and sliced for them. They eat at the table, with the tv off. We chat about what they have going on at school, I quiz them on vocabulary or spelling words, and they're seeming to love every minute of it. What's nuts is, I am too.
I'm taking great pride, I'm talking GREAT pride, like I live in the freakin Taj Mahal pride, in my home. I'm painstakingly choosing everything that goes into this house. For instance, it took me 3 weeks, no exaggeration, to choose a backsplash. It took me 2 weeks to decide on the wall scheme of shelves for the kitchen. I've arranged pictures, then rearranged them again to make sure that they're perfect. I make my bed every single day, complete with frou frou pillows and a puffy comforter, just like in a magazine. You know, I actually even considered ironing my sheets, but I thought that might be overkill. The table no longer has laundry folded all over it like it did when we lived in Maine. It's folded and put away immediately.
So what's the difference? Is it because I'm not working and my only job now is to be a wife and mother? Is it because the climate is warmer and I don't feel the need to hide under blankets to stay warm? Is it because the day light lasts longer and I don't feel that familiar depression creeping in? Maybe it's all of it. Maybe it's none of it. But for the first time in my life, I don't care why. I don't need to analyze. I'm happy, and I'm exactly where I want to be, where I need to be. I'm still crazy, and I still rock my pink bathrobe like nobody's business, but something's just different. And I like it.
This morning I got up with Chris at 5:30 to have breakfast with him before he went to work. Granted it was Eggo waffles, but the old me would've never done that. I would have half-heartedly said goodbye to him as he left, not even bothering to open my eyes. When it was time for the kids to get up, I would have gotten them up and gone back to bed, confident that they could take showers and get ready themselves, certainly capable of getting their own cereal. Now, I get up before them so I can make them a hot breakfast, usually something along the lines of scrambled eggs, peanut butter toast and some kind of fruit, that I've peeled and sliced for them. They eat at the table, with the tv off. We chat about what they have going on at school, I quiz them on vocabulary or spelling words, and they're seeming to love every minute of it. What's nuts is, I am too.
I'm taking great pride, I'm talking GREAT pride, like I live in the freakin Taj Mahal pride, in my home. I'm painstakingly choosing everything that goes into this house. For instance, it took me 3 weeks, no exaggeration, to choose a backsplash. It took me 2 weeks to decide on the wall scheme of shelves for the kitchen. I've arranged pictures, then rearranged them again to make sure that they're perfect. I make my bed every single day, complete with frou frou pillows and a puffy comforter, just like in a magazine. You know, I actually even considered ironing my sheets, but I thought that might be overkill. The table no longer has laundry folded all over it like it did when we lived in Maine. It's folded and put away immediately.
So what's the difference? Is it because I'm not working and my only job now is to be a wife and mother? Is it because the climate is warmer and I don't feel the need to hide under blankets to stay warm? Is it because the day light lasts longer and I don't feel that familiar depression creeping in? Maybe it's all of it. Maybe it's none of it. But for the first time in my life, I don't care why. I don't need to analyze. I'm happy, and I'm exactly where I want to be, where I need to be. I'm still crazy, and I still rock my pink bathrobe like nobody's business, but something's just different. And I like it.
Airline fun
So the other day, well not really the other day, more like two months ago (I just didn't post it because I'm super lazy and have been totally enthralled in my own personal drama...read: moving 1800 miles), I told you I'd tell you about Chris almost getting arrested by TSA. Here goes.
Ok. So. Chris and I were traveling to Georgia to get some painting and stuff done on the house. The whole trip really started poorly because I'd had a huge fight with the kids' dad, his car died, which meant that he couldn't watch the kids while we were gone, so we had to let him borrow our car while we were gone and have him pick us up at the airport when we got back. Of course now, like 2 months later, it really doesn't sound like a big deal, but at the time, it was. The tension was so thick in the car, you could've cut it with a knife. So Chris and I were already pretty stressed when we got to the airport. We tried to check in through the little self-check-in kiosk, but it of course didn't work. When we got to the counter, the grouchy little man was all, did you try the self-check-in? I was like, yes, we did. It didn't work. He lets out this big obnoxious sigh, and walked the 4 feet around the counter to help us. When the tickets were printed, we noticed that our seats weren't together. We asked if he could fix that for us. Now, keep in mind, we aren't world-class travelers, but we do travel quite a bit. We had a long distance (1800 miles) relationship for over a year, so flying isn't a new thing. Anyway, we always sit together, and no airline, ever, has had a problem fixing our seats. Well, this douchebag did. He was all, I can't change your seat without permission. I'm like, well, get permission. The guy's all, ma'am, we don't do that. I was like, it's fine, we'll just ask at the gate. Then the guy goes into this 10-minute diatribe about how they don't do that. I was like, dude. Whatever. We'll ask at the gate. We good here? We got through security and made it to the gate with time to spare. Then it went really bad.
Now, Chris is just about the most charming person on the planet. He always gets what he wants, he's polite, charming, smooth talking, the whole deal. He never raises his voice, and people always bend over backwards to help him. This time? Not so much. We walked up to the desk and Chris all, excuse me, ma'am? I just have a quick problem I'm hoping you can help me with. You see, I would like to sit with my wife on the plane, but our seats aren't together. The gentleman downstairs said that you might be able to help me. This woman, snorted and said, No. I can't. Chris said, do you think you could check again? She was like, No. Chris raises his eyebrows, takes a deep breath and says, is there some reason we can't sit together? She sighs and says, I'd have to change someone's seat. And I'm not doing that without asking them. Chris says, well, can we ask them? She's all huffy at this point, and snaps, Fine. Then she picked up the phone and called the angry little man that we'd already talked to downstairs, who apparently was a "manager", if manager meant douchebag. They talk for a second on the phone and then she smirks at Chris, and says, no. You can't change seats. Chris opened his mouth to say something, then she walked away...like mid-conversation. We were like, uh...what the fuck? If the day hadn't already been absolute crap, we probably start laughing. I didn't find it even remotely funny. I burst in to tears. I was like, I can't sit next to some stranger on the plane! I hate flying and you know how I feel about enclosed spaces! I can't do this, please don't make me do this! Chris was like, I know baby, I'm gonna fix it. They always change it for us. This lady is just a bitch, I'll fix it. Don't cry. So I walk over and sit in the chairs, totally pouting.
The lady didn't come right back, so Chris patiently waited at the counter for her. When she finally came back, she was helping other people, so Chris continued to be patient. When she was done helping everyone, making phone calls and trying her level best to ignore Chris, she finally was like, can I help you, sir? Now, I didn't hear what else was said, I was too busy pouting in the chair. The next thing I knew, Chris was walking quickly toward me, shaking his head. I was like, what happened? He was like, that fucking whore just threatened to call TSA on me! This, I found a little funny. Apparently, he asked to speak to a manager, and she said, if you don't stop bothering me, I'm going to report you to TSA. You can explain to them why you're terrorizing me. She picked up the scary red phone to call them, and he walked away. I feel sure I'm not making it sound nearly as scary as it actually was...
So maybe the moral of the story is, airline personnel, quit being dicks. Don't use TSA as a threat so you don't have to deal with people. TSA is there for security, not for your personal bodyguard. Because here's the truth, that lady was a straight up bitch, she didn't even TRY to help us, she was rude and absolutely unprofessional. Chris didn't so much as raise his voice, and she was nothing but nasty. That's not TSA's fault, nor is it their problem. Or maybe the moral of the story is to never fly with Delta again, EVER (we usually use AirTran because they're cheaper and have THE best customer service of any airline we've ever used, and Delta has never given us anything but problems), no matter how cheap they are. Or maybe the moral of the story is, don't bother with airline personnel, just put on your best sad face and manipulate total strangers into doing what you what them to. Which is what we ended up doing.
Once we were on the plane, Chris said to the lady in the seat next to his, ma'am, my wife is terrified of flying, and may have a panic attack if she can't sit next to me. Can you please switch seats with her? She didn't seem to be too happy about it, but one look at me, complete with red puffy eyes, sniffling and wet cheeks, she moved. I slept the whole flight.
Ok. So. Chris and I were traveling to Georgia to get some painting and stuff done on the house. The whole trip really started poorly because I'd had a huge fight with the kids' dad, his car died, which meant that he couldn't watch the kids while we were gone, so we had to let him borrow our car while we were gone and have him pick us up at the airport when we got back. Of course now, like 2 months later, it really doesn't sound like a big deal, but at the time, it was. The tension was so thick in the car, you could've cut it with a knife. So Chris and I were already pretty stressed when we got to the airport. We tried to check in through the little self-check-in kiosk, but it of course didn't work. When we got to the counter, the grouchy little man was all, did you try the self-check-in? I was like, yes, we did. It didn't work. He lets out this big obnoxious sigh, and walked the 4 feet around the counter to help us. When the tickets were printed, we noticed that our seats weren't together. We asked if he could fix that for us. Now, keep in mind, we aren't world-class travelers, but we do travel quite a bit. We had a long distance (1800 miles) relationship for over a year, so flying isn't a new thing. Anyway, we always sit together, and no airline, ever, has had a problem fixing our seats. Well, this douchebag did. He was all, I can't change your seat without permission. I'm like, well, get permission. The guy's all, ma'am, we don't do that. I was like, it's fine, we'll just ask at the gate. Then the guy goes into this 10-minute diatribe about how they don't do that. I was like, dude. Whatever. We'll ask at the gate. We good here? We got through security and made it to the gate with time to spare. Then it went really bad.
Now, Chris is just about the most charming person on the planet. He always gets what he wants, he's polite, charming, smooth talking, the whole deal. He never raises his voice, and people always bend over backwards to help him. This time? Not so much. We walked up to the desk and Chris all, excuse me, ma'am? I just have a quick problem I'm hoping you can help me with. You see, I would like to sit with my wife on the plane, but our seats aren't together. The gentleman downstairs said that you might be able to help me. This woman, snorted and said, No. I can't. Chris said, do you think you could check again? She was like, No. Chris raises his eyebrows, takes a deep breath and says, is there some reason we can't sit together? She sighs and says, I'd have to change someone's seat. And I'm not doing that without asking them. Chris says, well, can we ask them? She's all huffy at this point, and snaps, Fine. Then she picked up the phone and called the angry little man that we'd already talked to downstairs, who apparently was a "manager", if manager meant douchebag. They talk for a second on the phone and then she smirks at Chris, and says, no. You can't change seats. Chris opened his mouth to say something, then she walked away...like mid-conversation. We were like, uh...what the fuck? If the day hadn't already been absolute crap, we probably start laughing. I didn't find it even remotely funny. I burst in to tears. I was like, I can't sit next to some stranger on the plane! I hate flying and you know how I feel about enclosed spaces! I can't do this, please don't make me do this! Chris was like, I know baby, I'm gonna fix it. They always change it for us. This lady is just a bitch, I'll fix it. Don't cry. So I walk over and sit in the chairs, totally pouting.
The lady didn't come right back, so Chris patiently waited at the counter for her. When she finally came back, she was helping other people, so Chris continued to be patient. When she was done helping everyone, making phone calls and trying her level best to ignore Chris, she finally was like, can I help you, sir? Now, I didn't hear what else was said, I was too busy pouting in the chair. The next thing I knew, Chris was walking quickly toward me, shaking his head. I was like, what happened? He was like, that fucking whore just threatened to call TSA on me! This, I found a little funny. Apparently, he asked to speak to a manager, and she said, if you don't stop bothering me, I'm going to report you to TSA. You can explain to them why you're terrorizing me. She picked up the scary red phone to call them, and he walked away. I feel sure I'm not making it sound nearly as scary as it actually was...
So maybe the moral of the story is, airline personnel, quit being dicks. Don't use TSA as a threat so you don't have to deal with people. TSA is there for security, not for your personal bodyguard. Because here's the truth, that lady was a straight up bitch, she didn't even TRY to help us, she was rude and absolutely unprofessional. Chris didn't so much as raise his voice, and she was nothing but nasty. That's not TSA's fault, nor is it their problem. Or maybe the moral of the story is to never fly with Delta again, EVER (we usually use AirTran because they're cheaper and have THE best customer service of any airline we've ever used, and Delta has never given us anything but problems), no matter how cheap they are. Or maybe the moral of the story is, don't bother with airline personnel, just put on your best sad face and manipulate total strangers into doing what you what them to. Which is what we ended up doing.
Once we were on the plane, Chris said to the lady in the seat next to his, ma'am, my wife is terrified of flying, and may have a panic attack if she can't sit next to me. Can you please switch seats with her? She didn't seem to be too happy about it, but one look at me, complete with red puffy eyes, sniffling and wet cheeks, she moved. I slept the whole flight.
One small action at a time
Awhile back, I was contacted by Jon Brooks, of FOAR.US and was asked to cover their launch. Sadly, I was so busy and so wrapped up in our move that I dropped the ball...big time. I should've covered this before Christmas, or even during the big Christmastime push, but I'm wondering if this is maybe a blessing in disguise (disguised of course as an overworked, overstressed mom). The new year is just days away, and aren't we all looking for a resolution we can keep? Maybe this year, we can resolve to do the right thing. Maybe this year, we can resolve to make a difference in the world, one small action at a time.
FOAR.US is a clothing company that works with the non-profit organizations, War Child and Women Thrive to raise money for their organizations through the sale of t-shirts. According to FOAR's website, "Foar.us has the objective of redefining conscious consumerism and bring light to vital issues too often forgotten. Through fashion we give people the opportunity to have a voice beyond a simple aesthetic." In other words, you're going to buy t-shirts anyway, why not buy a t-shirt that makes a difference in the world? Incidentally, $10 from each t-shirt sold goes directly to the charity it was designed for (the t-shirts sell for $30-$35). Their products are also organic as well as sweat shop free.
I'm not going to rant or rave. I'm not going to beg and plead. What I will tell you is, these are really cool t-shirts. The charities they've been designed for are worthy and deserve more attention. Check it out for yourself. Maybe you'll decide that you want to put some of that Christmas cash to a new, awesome t-shirt. Maybe you'll just decide to check out their website and spread the word about what they're doing. Either way, I really don't think you'll be disappointed. I wasn't.
I also want to make sure this is crystal clear: I haven't been paid a dime for this post. I haven't been offered or promised any merchandise. This is a project I believe in, and all I've received is a great feeling for doing the right thing, and that's enough for me.
FOAR.US is a clothing company that works with the non-profit organizations, War Child and Women Thrive to raise money for their organizations through the sale of t-shirts. According to FOAR's website, "Foar.us has the objective of redefining conscious consumerism and bring light to vital issues too often forgotten. Through fashion we give people the opportunity to have a voice beyond a simple aesthetic." In other words, you're going to buy t-shirts anyway, why not buy a t-shirt that makes a difference in the world? Incidentally, $10 from each t-shirt sold goes directly to the charity it was designed for (the t-shirts sell for $30-$35). Their products are also organic as well as sweat shop free.
I'm not going to rant or rave. I'm not going to beg and plead. What I will tell you is, these are really cool t-shirts. The charities they've been designed for are worthy and deserve more attention. Check it out for yourself. Maybe you'll decide that you want to put some of that Christmas cash to a new, awesome t-shirt. Maybe you'll just decide to check out their website and spread the word about what they're doing. Either way, I really don't think you'll be disappointed. I wasn't.
I also want to make sure this is crystal clear: I haven't been paid a dime for this post. I haven't been offered or promised any merchandise. This is a project I believe in, and all I've received is a great feeling for doing the right thing, and that's enough for me.
Sadly, Santa didn't leave me any Xanax
So Christmas is over (huge sigh of relief). We got through the day with no tears, which was fantastic. The days leading up to Christmas were pretty difficult. I had a couple of days there that I could hardly even get out of bed. I just felt so completely done with everything. I think it was a mix of the stress of moving, being a little homesick, Christmastime, our house not being finished, the whole mess of everything just kind of fell down on me. Christmas day though, we decided there'd been enough wallowing time, and we went to go see some of Chris' family that I'd never met before. They were so wonderful, saying all kinds of wonderful things like, baby, that dawg bit the fool out of me!, and well, he was just fussin and fussin at me, but I didn't pay him no nevermind, or well ain't you just the prettiest thang. I really love Southern accents, and his family his very, very Southern. They were just so kind and welcoming, and just so much better than I thought they'd be. Like his Aunt, who is the one who said that the dog bit the fool out of her, is so sweet. She said to me and the kids, y'all just call me MeMaw. Which is awesome, because 1. I've never had a MeMaw, and 2. MeMaw is an awesome name.
So in the post-Christmas haze, we're attempting to get back to normal. I've decided that I'm not going to be depressed, and I'm not going to be lonely. I'm certainly not going to be bored, the kids are making sure of that. They've been fighting. A lot. Like constantly. I feel like I've been anointed the new warden of asylum. Like this morning, they were fighting because Kat was making thank you cards, David was playing his Playstation. Kat asked David how many presents her uncle got her (so she could make sure to include them all in her note). He said 2, she thought it was 3. They started screaming at each other about it. Or like last night, they were playing Battleship. Kat told David that she wanted him to tell her again all of the numbers he'd already called so she could mark them down (or some such thing), David said no, Kat said yes, and they nearly came to blows about it. I don't know if it's too much candy, not enough sleep, Christmas, or a combination of all three, but those two have lost their damn mind. And I'm not too far behind.
I find myself missing the time when I have too much to do before they get home from school, or the blissful quiet that settles over the house as they leave for the bus stop in the morning, having a cup coffee in the morning without anyone nagging at me, the mundane tasks that I do during the day...when I'm COMPLETELY ALONE. Incidentally, there are 8 more days until they go back to school, I hope. This morning, my dreams of peace and solitude were shattered. See, the state of Georgia says that the kids need some special form filled out by their doctor, verifying that they've had all their shots, etc. It can't be a Maine shot record, it has to be a Georgia shot record. So they don't need shots, just to have a Georgia doctor say that they had their shots in Maine. Confused yet? Me too. Anyway, this has to be done within 30 days of when the kids start school, so their appointments are this week. When their new pediatrician called to verify the insurance information, they told me that the number I gave them is inactive, essentially they have no insurance. When Chris transferred down here, apparently, his insurance didn't. There was some crap about how this center uses a different carrier, I don't know, I glazed over at the thought of another week of the kids bickering. Well, anyway, the lady is all, let's just reschedule so your husband's work can get this all settled. I was like, NO! The school says if this isn't done by January 5, they can't go back to school! She was like, ma'am, if there's no insurance on file, you'll have to pay cash. I was like, fine, I don't care. I'll pay cash. She was all, well...it's going to be at least $250 per child, you may end paying well over $500 for this. A small price to pay for my sanity.
So in the post-Christmas haze, we're attempting to get back to normal. I've decided that I'm not going to be depressed, and I'm not going to be lonely. I'm certainly not going to be bored, the kids are making sure of that. They've been fighting. A lot. Like constantly. I feel like I've been anointed the new warden of asylum. Like this morning, they were fighting because Kat was making thank you cards, David was playing his Playstation. Kat asked David how many presents her uncle got her (so she could make sure to include them all in her note). He said 2, she thought it was 3. They started screaming at each other about it. Or like last night, they were playing Battleship. Kat told David that she wanted him to tell her again all of the numbers he'd already called so she could mark them down (or some such thing), David said no, Kat said yes, and they nearly came to blows about it. I don't know if it's too much candy, not enough sleep, Christmas, or a combination of all three, but those two have lost their damn mind. And I'm not too far behind.
I find myself missing the time when I have too much to do before they get home from school, or the blissful quiet that settles over the house as they leave for the bus stop in the morning, having a cup coffee in the morning without anyone nagging at me, the mundane tasks that I do during the day...when I'm COMPLETELY ALONE. Incidentally, there are 8 more days until they go back to school, I hope. This morning, my dreams of peace and solitude were shattered. See, the state of Georgia says that the kids need some special form filled out by their doctor, verifying that they've had all their shots, etc. It can't be a Maine shot record, it has to be a Georgia shot record. So they don't need shots, just to have a Georgia doctor say that they had their shots in Maine. Confused yet? Me too. Anyway, this has to be done within 30 days of when the kids start school, so their appointments are this week. When their new pediatrician called to verify the insurance information, they told me that the number I gave them is inactive, essentially they have no insurance. When Chris transferred down here, apparently, his insurance didn't. There was some crap about how this center uses a different carrier, I don't know, I glazed over at the thought of another week of the kids bickering. Well, anyway, the lady is all, let's just reschedule so your husband's work can get this all settled. I was like, NO! The school says if this isn't done by January 5, they can't go back to school! She was like, ma'am, if there's no insurance on file, you'll have to pay cash. I was like, fine, I don't care. I'll pay cash. She was all, well...it's going to be at least $250 per child, you may end paying well over $500 for this. A small price to pay for my sanity.
I'm back, and I'm still a badass
Nearly 30 days since my last post. Honestly, I thought that maybe I'd stop blogging. I thought that with all the changes, the new set of expectations, and my new "job", I just didn't have time to write. Well, this is my second day home alone, and really, you can only wipe off the counters so many times before you get bored.
So here I am. In my new house. In Georgia. It's pretty damn awesome. Yes, I only have one working bathroom. And yes, it doesn't have a sink. Sure, we're still brushing our teeth in the kitchen sink, but you know what? I don't care. I'm in my own house. Oh, AND...it has a dishwasher! I've never had a dishwasher before, so that's exciting...if getting excited about appliances is your thing. Apparently it's mine. Which is a little bothersome because I'm not the kind of girl who gets all giddy over appliances. For instance, last night I was cooking dinner and I pushed a button on the microwave (it had a picture of a light bulb on it) and what do you know? A light came on! But before you go scoffing and thinking I'm total retard, let me explain. The microwave is over the stove, so when I pushed the button, I thought that the light INSIDE the microwave would come on. Nope, light UNDER the microwave came on, so my stove top was lit up. Ok, I know, this wouldn't excite many people, but it thrilled the hell out of me.
I'm almost done unpacking. It's been a little nerve rattling because the other day I moved a box and the biggest cockroach I've ever seen jumped out and tried to kill me, worse, he brought his brother to help. The kids were sitting on the bed and Davey jumped up and shrieked like a girl, he started jumping up and down on the bed, Kat was waving her arms around screaming, I on the other hand, was very calm. I calmly said, oh my, a large cockroach. I need to kill it. Yeah...not so much. I let out a bloodcurdling Jaime Lee Curtis "Halloween" scream and ran out of the room. Chris was standing in the kitchen laughing. I was like, did you not hear me screaming? He was like, yeah, I heard you. I was like, weren't you going to check to make sure we were ok? Aren't you concerned for the welfare of your wife and children? He was all, no. I figured you saw a bug. I was like, well...I did. But you're a jerk. I finally convinced him to stop laughing at me and come kill it. He found the first one and stomped on it, but the second one ran under the bed and Chris wouldn't go find it. He said if I feel compelled to crawl under the bed and look for a cockroach I should do so, but he wasn't going to. I decided I didn't really want to either. Now, every time I move a box, I expect to see a cockroach. We found a dead one in the bathroom that wasn't there when we first moved in, Chris said it was probably the one that ran under the bed. He said the house has been bug sprayed, so it was just a matter of time before it died. I'm not sure if I believe him, but I haven't seen any more yet, so I hope he's telling the truth and not just waiting for me to amuse him with more screaming and flailing about.
Everyone warned me that there would be big bugs here, I just had to get used to them. I think I'm getting the hang of it. Yesterday morning I was sitting at the table drinking my coffee when I saw this big brown hoppy crawly bug. Some kind of beetle on steroids or something. He was prancing around in his annoying little bug way thinking he's the shit. I calmly put my coffee cup down, picked up a hammer and smashed the crap out of him. I was like, that's right, bitch. Who's the badass now?
So here I am. In my new house. In Georgia. It's pretty damn awesome. Yes, I only have one working bathroom. And yes, it doesn't have a sink. Sure, we're still brushing our teeth in the kitchen sink, but you know what? I don't care. I'm in my own house. Oh, AND...it has a dishwasher! I've never had a dishwasher before, so that's exciting...if getting excited about appliances is your thing. Apparently it's mine. Which is a little bothersome because I'm not the kind of girl who gets all giddy over appliances. For instance, last night I was cooking dinner and I pushed a button on the microwave (it had a picture of a light bulb on it) and what do you know? A light came on! But before you go scoffing and thinking I'm total retard, let me explain. The microwave is over the stove, so when I pushed the button, I thought that the light INSIDE the microwave would come on. Nope, light UNDER the microwave came on, so my stove top was lit up. Ok, I know, this wouldn't excite many people, but it thrilled the hell out of me.
I'm almost done unpacking. It's been a little nerve rattling because the other day I moved a box and the biggest cockroach I've ever seen jumped out and tried to kill me, worse, he brought his brother to help. The kids were sitting on the bed and Davey jumped up and shrieked like a girl, he started jumping up and down on the bed, Kat was waving her arms around screaming, I on the other hand, was very calm. I calmly said, oh my, a large cockroach. I need to kill it. Yeah...not so much. I let out a bloodcurdling Jaime Lee Curtis "Halloween" scream and ran out of the room. Chris was standing in the kitchen laughing. I was like, did you not hear me screaming? He was like, yeah, I heard you. I was like, weren't you going to check to make sure we were ok? Aren't you concerned for the welfare of your wife and children? He was all, no. I figured you saw a bug. I was like, well...I did. But you're a jerk. I finally convinced him to stop laughing at me and come kill it. He found the first one and stomped on it, but the second one ran under the bed and Chris wouldn't go find it. He said if I feel compelled to crawl under the bed and look for a cockroach I should do so, but he wasn't going to. I decided I didn't really want to either. Now, every time I move a box, I expect to see a cockroach. We found a dead one in the bathroom that wasn't there when we first moved in, Chris said it was probably the one that ran under the bed. He said the house has been bug sprayed, so it was just a matter of time before it died. I'm not sure if I believe him, but I haven't seen any more yet, so I hope he's telling the truth and not just waiting for me to amuse him with more screaming and flailing about.
Everyone warned me that there would be big bugs here, I just had to get used to them. I think I'm getting the hang of it. Yesterday morning I was sitting at the table drinking my coffee when I saw this big brown hoppy crawly bug. Some kind of beetle on steroids or something. He was prancing around in his annoying little bug way thinking he's the shit. I calmly put my coffee cup down, picked up a hammer and smashed the crap out of him. I was like, that's right, bitch. Who's the badass now?
The quick and dirty update
It's been so long since I've written a real post (not that this is a real post, because it's really not), I don't even know where to begin. My head is in a million different places lately. Maine, Georgia and everywhere in between. We closed on the house on November 9. It was this huge relief followed by an overwhelming need to throw up. Are we really doing this? Did we seriously just buy a house? Yeah, we really did.
This past weekend we flew down to do some painting, which totally sucked. At first, it was kind of fun because it was all, yay! Working on OUR house! But that really didn't last long because painting really sucks. The carpets had already been ripped out, so we spent the entire weekend (from 8 am to after midnight every day) walking, crawling and kneeling on concrete floors, which I'd like to add did wonders for my already sore and arthritic knee. Yeah, I know I sound about 87, I don't care. It hurts. Also, just like every other project we work on together, Chris and I bickered almost the entire time. I think he paints like a blind, handless retard, and he thinks I'm too bossy. Clearly, he's wrong and I'm right.
We're leaving here around the 9th of December, which is more than 3 weeks earlier than we'd planned on, so I've really been scrambling to get everything done. The moving truck comes either the 2nd or 3rd (because they need a 2 day window for pick up) and we're all moving in with my parents until we leave. I think after living with me, Chris, the kids and our 3 dogs, by the time the 9th rolls around, she's going to be more than ready for us to leave. I'm looking forward to it though (as crazy as it sounds), she and I have worked really hard to mend fences and turn over a new leaf and all those other nice-sounding metaphors than really mean stop being a jerk to each other.
So that's the quick and dirty update. I promise I'll be back to normal posting again soon, I'm just so overwhelmed with all this right now, I hardly have time to think. Tomorrow I'll tell you all about our air travel adventure from this weekend and Chris' brush with getting arrested by TSA because I'm a spaz.
This past weekend we flew down to do some painting, which totally sucked. At first, it was kind of fun because it was all, yay! Working on OUR house! But that really didn't last long because painting really sucks. The carpets had already been ripped out, so we spent the entire weekend (from 8 am to after midnight every day) walking, crawling and kneeling on concrete floors, which I'd like to add did wonders for my already sore and arthritic knee. Yeah, I know I sound about 87, I don't care. It hurts. Also, just like every other project we work on together, Chris and I bickered almost the entire time. I think he paints like a blind, handless retard, and he thinks I'm too bossy. Clearly, he's wrong and I'm right.
We're leaving here around the 9th of December, which is more than 3 weeks earlier than we'd planned on, so I've really been scrambling to get everything done. The moving truck comes either the 2nd or 3rd (because they need a 2 day window for pick up) and we're all moving in with my parents until we leave. I think after living with me, Chris, the kids and our 3 dogs, by the time the 9th rolls around, she's going to be more than ready for us to leave. I'm looking forward to it though (as crazy as it sounds), she and I have worked really hard to mend fences and turn over a new leaf and all those other nice-sounding metaphors than really mean stop being a jerk to each other.
So that's the quick and dirty update. I promise I'll be back to normal posting again soon, I'm just so overwhelmed with all this right now, I hardly have time to think. Tomorrow I'll tell you all about our air travel adventure from this weekend and Chris' brush with getting arrested by TSA because I'm a spaz.
You like me, you really like me!
Ok, maybe you don't, but Aiming Low does.
I know, I'm a total slacker and haven't posted anything for like a week. My only excuse is that I'm drowning in a sea of boxes and packing tape. I'll do a real post soon, I promise. In the meantime, the good folks over at Aiming Low (which is an awesome site all about the perfection that us moms will never reach) appreciate my slackerdom and have featured me today, which makes me feel completely validated and awesome.
Check it out here.
I know, I'm a total slacker and haven't posted anything for like a week. My only excuse is that I'm drowning in a sea of boxes and packing tape. I'll do a real post soon, I promise. In the meantime, the good folks over at Aiming Low (which is an awesome site all about the perfection that us moms will never reach) appreciate my slackerdom and have featured me today, which makes me feel completely validated and awesome.
Check it out here.
