The Locals Love It

This week’s Spin Cycle is all about Pet Peeve’s.  I have a few.  Not as many as some people I know (wink, wink) but just enough to maybe be considered wierd.  Here are a few:

-  Cabinet doors in the kitchen that are left open.

- People who go to Costco and eat all the snacks then throw their trash into the cart and leave it there.  So then when I get there and want a cart I have to search all over for the one without all the shit in it.

- People who don’t walk their shopping cart to the designated cart area of the parking lot but rather leave it wherever.  Come on people!

- People who drive too fast in residential neighborhoods.  Damn it – there are kids playing!

-  People who say “uge” instead of “h-uge.”

- Drivers who forget to use their turn signals. (Btw…I am hardly ever guilty)

- People who pull items out of the microwave before the time is finished and don’t clear out the time.

- Dog owners who don’t pick up after them.  I’m so tired of running through landminds.  Plus, it stinks.  (BTW….I’ll call you out if I’m running by and your dog shits and you leave it there….)

- Noisy chewers (yuck)

- People who pee on the seat and don’t wipe it off.  Women, even if you “hover” and accidentally dribble, turn around and wipe up your mess.

- Oatmeal in my chocolate chip cookies.  (just kidding)

For more pet peeve’s – head on over to Sprite’s Keeper.  But make sure to use your turn signal along the way.

I checked into the hospital at 2pm three years ago today.  One week before my due date (2/9), I was about to deliver via c-section what my doctor had predicted to be a very large little boy. (Is that an oxymoron?)

Nervous, excited, scared to death and relieved were just a handful of the emotions I was feeling.  Nervous about the surgery, excited about the baby, scared to death about being a good parent and relieved I wasn’t going to be uncomfortably huge anymore. 

But because I was a scheduled c-section I got pushed back as more and more emergency c-sections were done ahead of me. 

As I sat there, I remember most vividly the fact that I had to go to the bathroom so bad.  I think it’s a nervous habit of mine.  If I think there is a possibility that I will not be able to go, I have to go even more.  So after several trips to the bathroom my nurse finally instructed me to get undressed.  She began to “prep” me for what would become the next phase of my life.  Motherhood.

Dressed in my fashionable “open in the rear” gown, I walked into the delivery room and propped myself up on the table.  By this time I had to pee so bad that my eyeballs were floating.  But my kind nurse (someone my husband knew from the gym) reminded me that I was about to be catheterized.  Hoping she would move the process along she mentioned that I may want to have my spinal first.  Good idea. 

I’ll never know, but I bet once they stuck that tube into my bladder I filled at least a whole bag. 

I remember feeling so alone sitting on that table.  My husband wasn’t allowed into the room until after I’d gotten the spinal.  There were noises all around me, people working to get things set up.  But I got the feeling I was just “the next surgery”. 

It was probably 20 minutes or so before my husband was allowed into the room.  There I was strapped to the table.  He took his place next tome – the big blue drape hanging in front of us.  I could see the excitement in his eyes.

I reminded the anesthesiologist that I typically needed a lot of “stuff” because I tend to still feel pain.  Basically, I think I’m just a wimp.  (And to think, I had planned on a natural childbirth up until this point).

Once the action began, I felt the expected tugging and pushing.  What I didn’t feel was any pain.  In a matter of minutes, the anesthesiologist asked my husband if he wanted to stand up and see his baby born.  At which point I felt strange again. 

 Everyone could see what was happening but me. 

My husband said that it was crazy.  There was one doctor (the largest of them all) practically sitting on my chest pushing down and the others reaching in and pulling for the baby.

And then it happened.  In an instant.  I heard the most beautiful sound in the world. 

Crying. 

Today, as we get ready to celebrate Birthday #3, I look back on that day with as much joy as ever.  It’s hard to believe it’s gone by this fast.

BTW…My little groundhog did see his shadow.  I guess winter is sticking around.  As long as there are cupcakes and pizza at his party tonight, I don’t think he cares if winter stays for good.

I have a crap load going on here right now and I need to prioritize.  Unfortunately blogging doesn’t rank very high when I compare it to the other things in life that need to get done right now.

So I’m taking a break.  I’ll still be reading and checking in with my peeps but I just won’t be stressing over what to post on my own site.

I hope you understand.

“Hey, put that away.  No one wants to see  your penis at the dinner table.”

By now we’ve all been made aware of the 6.1 magnatude earthquake that hit Haiti this morning.  After the devastation that they’ve already faced, it must feel like a twist of the knife.

I watch with horror not fully able to comprehend just what they’re going through.  Already being so vulnerable I can’t imagine what they must be feeling now that what little they had is gone.

I feel the most pain for the children especially those who are now orphaned.  I find myself seeking out articles relating to those kids who’ve been adopted and who have made it safely to the states to start their new life.  I guess that little bit of happiness helps make it seem at least a little bit better.

A co-worker of mine came into my office yesterday and said, “So, just how many kids do you want to adopt from Haiti?”.  She must have been reading my mind.

It’s sad to think that although I’d take a handful of them, I simply can’t afford even one.  To feel that way makes me think I’m being extremely selfish.  But financially we just couldn’t do it.

I’ve always said that I wanted to adopt a child.  Even when I was younger I thought it was something that I was meant to do.  But in order to do it I think you need to do it right.  You need to be able to truly provide for that child and be patient.  Something I’m not sure I’ve gotten a good grasp on.  Patience and I haven’t quite come to terms with each other.  But the older I get the better I get.

Regardless the thought of adoption has and most likely will always remain in my mind.  Maybe someday it will happen.

…unless it’s with my mother. 

I’ve never been really big into fashion.  I’m the kind of girl who walks into a store and buys the outfit already assembled on the mannequin.  I’m just not clever enough to put together my own outfit by mixing and matching items from different areas of the store.  I think that’s why large department stores freak me out.  There are way too many different departments to pull clothes from.

Plus, I hate trying things on.  I think that’s because I have a really wierd body type.  I’m lucky in that my waist is pretty normal.  I don’t carry my “fat” there.  I’ve always been lucky enough to carry all my weight in my hips.  Or my ass.  Hence my high school nickname “Big Booty Trudy”.  Nice right?

Trying on pants is a nightmare.  If I can find pants that will fit over my thighs then they’re to loose in the waist and I get that big gap that shows your ass crack.  But if I can find a pair of pants to fit my waist nice then they’re skin-tight and I might as well be wearing assless chaps cause you can see “the goods”.  On top of that I’m 5′5″ tall which basically means I fall in between “short” and “regular” in length.  I don’t want to even get started on that  nightmare.

But yesterday I sucked it up.  Without my mother, I went shopping.  My neighbor had told me that Old Navy was having a huge (that’s uge – don’t forget) sale.  50% off their already marked down items.  I’d gotten some money for Christmas and it was burning a hole (that’s h-ole) in my pocket.

I was a rock star!  I managed to sift through the 152 racks of clothes for both my husband and I.  I actually tried on clothes that fit (and were a size smaller than before).  It was wonderful.  And the bonus…

I walked out of that store with 2 large bags of clothes for under $40.  Nothing I bought was more than $6.  I’m not kidding you, I got shirts for $1.50 and pants for $3.  The outfit I have on today cost me $6.  Hoo fucking ray!

I’m on cloud nine.  And the sale doesn’t end until tonight.  I could still go back on my lunch hour!  Yipee.

(BTW….Old Navy has nothing to do with this post other than providing me with an increased level of happiness.)

This week Jen over at Sprite’s Keeper has asked us to write about “fear”.  And since I am afraid of just about everything I knew I needed to participate.  Yet, I’ve started this post about 8 different times. I just can’t seem to communicate what my issues are in a way that makes sense.  I’ve thought about listing everything that I’m afraid of but figured that would take forever and would be really boring.

I never used to be afraid of anything.  Like most younger folks I thought I was invincible.  I never feared death, took risks and basically tested the powers that be to the fullest.  Looking back on those years I’ve often wondered if in doing those things I wanted to die.  I had little to no self-esteem and I was angry at the world.  In reality, I don’t really believe I wanted to die, I think I was just naive.  I thought the world revolved around me and I certainly didn’t believe in Karma.

That all changed.  This may sound completely cliché but after 9-11 I had this really weird realization that I was no longer in control.  I started to look at my life in a new way.  I became much more aware of the roles other people played in my destiny and it totally freaked me out.  I became afraid of everything.  Ironically enough this is the same time I started to suffer from anxiety. 

Since then, I have a really hard time participating in activities that I have no control over such as riding in a car or flying.  I’m pleased to report I’m getting much better at both of them but for a while there I couldn’t fly without being medicated.  And riding with other people was a disaster.  The hubby wanted to punch my lights out every time I rode with him.  I think I’ve left permanent grip marks on the “oh shit” handle of his car.

My fear and anxiety only got worse after The King was born.  Not only did I know fear catastrophe would consume me but now I worried about him too.  I also feared I wouldn’t be a good mother.  I was reading an article in an old readers digest last night about how in this day and age we’ve come to overprotect our kids with a number of ridiculous products designed to keep them safe.  I laughed out loud while reading it but inside was cringing at the thought that I was one of those parents.

You see my problem is….I create my own fear/anxiety.  I’ve become so used to it being apart of my life that I simply create it when it’s not happening.  I can be going about my day just fine then realize I haven’t been anxious or afraid and immediately will think of a worse case scenario and throw myself onto the roller coaster ride of emotions.  It’s ridiculous I know. 

I’ve only recently become aware of the role my hormones play into how I’m feeling.  I’ve been keeping a mental note of what times of the month are better than others.  And just the other night, although I wasn’t anxious, only really tired, I realized that the absence of the moon was effecting my “energy”. 

I really believe I’m on the right track and am ready to tackle my fears head on.  I figure they didn’t just show up over night and most certainly won’t go away over night.  Baby steps I say.  Baby Steps…and a good bottle of wine!

For more great fear spins, click here.  To check out some of my other posts on my fears click here (snakes, riding in cars, flying)

I am so refreshed.  Do you ever feel overwhelmed by the need to post something interesting on a regular basis?  It adds to my already fragile and anxious state of being.  So when I take a few days off I feel so good. 

Anyway, I’ve decided that I’m weird.  A co-worker and I always joke that everyone is weird.  That’s what makes the world an interesting place.  Wouldn’t it be crazy if we were all the same.  BORING.  Anyway, I’ve been thinking lately about some of the things that I think make me weird.

For example, I can’t stand how some people say the word “huge”.  I am the kind of person who deliberately stresses the “h” in huge.  But there are lots of people out there that simply say “uge” with the “h” silent.  I drives me nuts.  I don’t know why.

Then there’s the fact that cabinet doors must be shut.  The hubby suffers from “leaves the cabinet doors open” syndrome and it makes my insides ruffle.  Maybe it’s the fact that I don’t like to look at what’s in the cupboards.  They’re not messy, in fact they’re rather neat and organized but dammit - shut the doors!  Can you imagine if I lived in one of those new retro type houses that didn’t use doors.  Argh!

Another thing that drives me crazy is when someone (either at home or work or wherever) uses the microwave and opens the door before all the time runs out.  Then you go to use it and you wonder why it’s not entering your time.  Only to find out that the jack ass before you left 5 seconds remaining on the timer.  It’s just sitting there blinking over and over and over.  (Am I starting to sound crazy?)

Then there is the fact that I my morning routine is done in the same order. Every. Single. Day.  Even in the shower, the order of operations is the same.  If I even differ just a tad from the norm, I could quite possibly forget to brush my teeth or put on deoderant. 

Finally,(and this one’s a doozy) going to the bathroom HAS TO BE the last thing I do before I fall asleep. I simply cannot get into bed and watch tv for a while then fall asleep.  Nor can I get into bed, get out of bed and get a glass of water and then get back into bed.  I must go to the bathroom first.  Regardless if  I just went 2 minutes before.  Seems silly right? 

I’m pretty sure that there are a handful (not too many) of other things that make me weird but I am willing to embrace my weirdness and roll with it.  I’m also really glad that everyone else is weird too.  We come in all shapes, sizes, colors and levels of weirdness and that’s what makes life interesting.

Tell me, what makes you weird?

Overheard last night while getting ready for bed…

The King:  “My butt sounds like a cat.”

The hubby: “What? Your butt sounds like a cat?”

The King:  “Yeah, it purred”

*******

Courtesy of Google Images

I think I need help.  I have spent 3 out of the past 5 days watching programs on the History Channel surrounding the “end of days”.  It started out as a simple inquiry.  I wanted to learn more.  I had heard about the Mayan calendar and was interested in learning more.  Then it became an obsession.  I think I’ve seen every show.

It’s crazy to even consider that there really could be a huge disaster on December 21, 2012 that would wipe out all civilization.  Or at least change it drastically.  I’m not quite sure I buy it yet but the evidence is pretty impressive.  

Can you imagine? 

Anyway, I understand that there is a movie coming out too titled “2012″.  I’m not one to head off to the theater so I doubt I’ll see it.  In the meantime, I’ll keep watching the History Channel and contemplating why I”m not living my life to the fullest.  Stressing out all the time and worrying about things I can’t change sure does seem ridiculous if the world is ending.  In fact excercise seem futile at this point.  Won’t I want the extra “layers” in case all hell breaks loose?

Of course, I’m joking but it sure does get me thinking.