I am kind of a sucky housewife. For someone who is a STAY at HOME mom, one might think I could manage all the house work. I want a spotless house… a house that is so clean an ANT would starve to death in it... a house so clean a mouse couldn’t find a place to hide… BUT… I’d settle for a house that didn’t have dust bunnies, sticky floors, TOYS everywhere, and-ideally- have all of Starling’s TREASURES safely stuffed in his shed OUT of sight.
BUT… I don’t lose sleep over my house. (I have 2 kids, a husband, and a Charkley- who doesn’t know he’s a dog- to lose sleep over). Instead, I try to compensate for time lost during the day (due to children and pure EXHAUSTION) for cleaning at RANDOM hours of the night. I am on NO kind of schedule, unless of course one considers no schedule a type… which I suppose it is… a very UNPRODUCTIVE and UNHEALTHY type… but again, I do what I can. Last night I was a zombie brushing my teeth and plucking out half my eyeball connected to my contact. I flopped into bed and vowed to never leave its fluffy embrace again. Of course, Brooklyn woke up about that time. She’d fallen asleep on the couch and Starling and I dared not disturb her (except for my jabbing a toothbrush down her throat.. but one wouldn’t BLAME me if they saw her teeth. She had enough frosting on those things to cover a cake). And Brooklyn is NEVER a case of merely GOING to sleep once she gets in Mommy’s bed, or as she calls it… The NIGHT NIGHT. She HAS to have Chocolate Milk. And Starling and I fight it sometimes and win after she cries herself to sleep… after two hours. (IF you call that WINNING). But RARELY are EITHER of us willing to suffer through TWO hours of her crying, “PUH-LEEESE… I JUS…T… WAN…T… MY… CHOC… LIT… MI…YILK!” SOOOO Starling got up with her to get her milk. (SUCH a good man- and I didn’t even have to physically BEAT him to make him do it either… he just sucked it up and took it like a Mummy getting called out of his Coffin). I woke up at 3 a.m. Charkley had to pee. I was chewing him out in whisper form for NOT going to potty BEFORE he went to bed, but let him out none the less. I then heard Brighton in his crib mercilessly trying to SUCK his hand off his wrist. NOT crying… but smacking and rooting like a pig with a megaphone.
I figured- WHILE I was UP, I’d feed him. It was only a matter of time before he realized milk wouldn’t come out of his fingers and he’d get frustrated enough to start whimpering. I fed him, I changed him, I let Charkley back inside, and I lay back in my miraculously comfortable bed. My body went limp… but my BRAIN didn’t. I was WIDE awake with the most RANDOM thoughts plundering in my head. Annoyed, I tried focusing on the sound of the fan lulling me to sleep. But that only made me think of how Brooklyn never sleeps under the cover EVEN when the fan is blowing on her. And that led to thoughts of Brighton. He doesn’t like covers EITHER. And then I had to see if Starling sleeps under covers because they MUST get that from him because I bundle up like an Eskimo going into hibernation for the winter. Then, like I usually do, unable to get to sleep, I sighed with defeat, leapt from my bed, and turned on the light. AND, like Starling ALWAYS does, Starling asked, “What are you DOING?” I grabbed my clothes and shoes. “Heading to the gym.”
I worked out from about 3:30 to 4:30 a.m. I got home and tried to reason with myself WHY I should go back to bed. BECAUSE I’m going to be DEAD tired, is reason enough. But I was all pumped up.
Starling has never told me that he HATES me to clean in the wee hours of the morning before the sun comes up. I don’t think me doing laundry bothers him, or even the banging of pots and pans while I unload the dishwasher… BUT I did once hear him say to someone, when I was mentioning my FAVORITE time to clean house is in the middle of the night, that there was nothing better than waking up at 3 a.m. to the roar of the vacuum cleaner. So… I refrained from doing that this morning. But- if the grass wasn’t still covered in wet dew- I’d be out there mowing. That must be why there IS dew… to keep morons like me from ticking off entire neighborhoods.
So I got my clean on and now that my household will be WAKING up… I’m ready for a NAP.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Sunday, July 24, 2011
It feels OH so good to wake up after my peaceful Sunday afternoon nap, complete with the sound of pounding rain on the rooftop. I would rather have been woken by thunder instead of projectile spit up sloshing me in the face, but I'll take my sleep where I can get it.
And its a good thing I DID take a nap while Brooklyn and Brighton were conked because now that Brooklyn's awake... the only word I hear is "Mo-o-o-m!" And what is UP with "Mom?" What happened to "Mommy??" She turns two and suddenly she's too grown to say Mommy and Daddy. She's all chirping Mom and Dad. Well I don't LIKE it.
I have to revert back to the ride home from Santa Rosa. I wish I had a video of the trip back, but I'll have to paint the picture the best I can. Our trunk would barely close. Well... it WOULDN't close without me jumping up and down on it to make it latch. We were attempting to carry WAAAY too much crap home with us. PLUS the inside of the car was loaded. The back seat had two car seats with Brooklyn and Brighton and David, my nephew, in the middle. Brooklyn and Brighton had both fallen asleep and David looked like he was on the verge. It was pretty quiet as we melodically bathed in Air Supply. When we stopped at a gas station for an icee, I punched the radio button. (My air supply was ALL run out considering there are only NINE songs and we'd listened to those NINE songs for an HOUR). We drove away again singing to the radio. "All I wanna do is a Zoom Zoom..." came on the radio while Starling was flipping through the stations. Starling cranked up the radio. I immediately got my dance on and Starling and I, like we ALWAYS do when Brooklyn is sleeping, started screaming out the words as LOUD as our voices can go without cracking (and sometimes louder). So there Starling and I were, red faced and BLARING, "ALL I WANNA DO IS A ZOOM ZOOM AND A BOOM BOOM... JUST SHAKE YOUR RUMP!" Starling had the bobbing head and the swaying shoulders and I was in full force shaking it all the way down to my hips, throwing my arms back and forth and flipping my head to and fro. We were caught up in the moment... we were back to our dating days of careless bliss... just a couple of irresponsible teenagers jamming to random songs through our giggles. Then Starling took a glance in the rear view mirror. At his expression I turned. Sleeping Brooklyn. Sleeping Brighton. David, wide awake and traumatized, threw his blanket over his head to shield himself from the racket. We died out laughing. Our poor kids don't know any different.
When Brooklyn DID wake up, she wanted to "read." With all the traveling we've been doing, I've come up with some creative things to do WHILE I drive. One of which is READING. (This probably seems a little unsafe to you, so I safe-ified it). I tell Brooklyn to "Open it up!" Her hands open and become the book. We have several different stories. One story: "Once upon a time there were 10 little fingers. There names were Uno, Dos, Tres, Quatro, Cinco, Seis, Siete, Ocho, Nueve, and Dies! And they lived HaPPily ever after. THE END!" and then we SLAM our hands shut, closing the book. We also do the 3 bears. "Once upon time there were THREE bears. A Daddy bear, a Mommy bear, and a BABY bear. They were hungry so they made OATMEAL! Daddy's oatmeal was TOO hot. Mommy's oatmeal was TOO cold. Baby's oatmeal was JUST right and he ate it ALL gone. YUM... Delicioso! The END!" David like this game MUCH better than our singing and he readily joined in.
"How bout I'll read you the three bears?" He asked Brooklyn. "OKAY!" She excitedly exclaimed. His telling of Goldy Locks and the Three Bears was beautiful. But LONG. Every time David would take a breath Brooklyn was slam her hands together, "THE END!" and David would continue. Then Brooklyn screamed, "THE END!" and David would continue. Starling and I were giggling like two kids that heard a toodle in the middle of church. Watching Brooklyn and David interact was hilarious. When story time ended (on DAVID's terms) Brooklyn wanted to catch a frog. (This is another game I taught Brooklyn as a form of distraction. We catch random animals and eat them). I stuck the imaginary frog in my mouth. AND IT TRIED TO JUMP OUT! I stuck my tongue in my cheek and moved it around. David's eyes got huge and then they both started giggling. "PLEH!" I spat out the frog. You would have thought the tickle monster had attacked those two. Then we caught all kinds of other animals... we ate birds, snakes, worms, baby jaguar, and even snacked on some Diego.
We were running late so we had to go STRAIGHT to Starling's Tennis match. So my unmade up face and nappy hair got to meet ALL of his tennis team for the first time. NOTHING like making an outstanding first impression. But on the bright side, at least I'd worn deodorant.
Brooklyn and David played on the playground while Kathryn, my ABOUT to be sister-n-law, chit chatted. Then David said, "Brooklyn needs to go potty." Kathryn and her sweet as a pop tart self volunteered to take her. We all walked into the bathroom and Kathryn put Brooklyn on the pot and then gasped. Brooklyn had pooped. Diarrhea kind of poop. GLOBS of it. It would appear that Brooklyn hadn't pooped in a month and it ALL came out at once. IN HER PANTIES. Poop was EVERYWHERE. Kathryn looked like she didn't know if she should laugh, cry, throw up... I threw Brighton to her and dove in up to my elbows. Luckily there was a shower in the bathroom that I chunked Brooklyn into. I soaped her down, cleaned her off then headed to bath the bathroom stall. Some lady came in to pee and Kathryn said... "Sorry... we had a little accident." The lady took in the scene and hurriedly got OUT of there. David, nauseated and mortified to be sitting in the girls bathroom proclaimed, "I KNEW I should have ridden with Uncle Eric."
It was disgusting. Brooklyn pooped in her panties at church today, also. She's had the runs for the last couple of days and its about to kill me. Her so called "accident" level has gone off the charts and I REFUSE to put her back in diapers. I don't know what this reversion back to trying to hold it until its falling out of her IS, but it needs to pass and QUICKLY. My stomach can't take any more.
And its a good thing I DID take a nap while Brooklyn and Brighton were conked because now that Brooklyn's awake... the only word I hear is "Mo-o-o-m!" And what is UP with "Mom?" What happened to "Mommy??" She turns two and suddenly she's too grown to say Mommy and Daddy. She's all chirping Mom and Dad. Well I don't LIKE it.
I have to revert back to the ride home from Santa Rosa. I wish I had a video of the trip back, but I'll have to paint the picture the best I can. Our trunk would barely close. Well... it WOULDN't close without me jumping up and down on it to make it latch. We were attempting to carry WAAAY too much crap home with us. PLUS the inside of the car was loaded. The back seat had two car seats with Brooklyn and Brighton and David, my nephew, in the middle. Brooklyn and Brighton had both fallen asleep and David looked like he was on the verge. It was pretty quiet as we melodically bathed in Air Supply. When we stopped at a gas station for an icee, I punched the radio button. (My air supply was ALL run out considering there are only NINE songs and we'd listened to those NINE songs for an HOUR). We drove away again singing to the radio. "All I wanna do is a Zoom Zoom..." came on the radio while Starling was flipping through the stations. Starling cranked up the radio. I immediately got my dance on and Starling and I, like we ALWAYS do when Brooklyn is sleeping, started screaming out the words as LOUD as our voices can go without cracking (and sometimes louder). So there Starling and I were, red faced and BLARING, "ALL I WANNA DO IS A ZOOM ZOOM AND A BOOM BOOM... JUST SHAKE YOUR RUMP!" Starling had the bobbing head and the swaying shoulders and I was in full force shaking it all the way down to my hips, throwing my arms back and forth and flipping my head to and fro. We were caught up in the moment... we were back to our dating days of careless bliss... just a couple of irresponsible teenagers jamming to random songs through our giggles. Then Starling took a glance in the rear view mirror. At his expression I turned. Sleeping Brooklyn. Sleeping Brighton. David, wide awake and traumatized, threw his blanket over his head to shield himself from the racket. We died out laughing. Our poor kids don't know any different.
When Brooklyn DID wake up, she wanted to "read." With all the traveling we've been doing, I've come up with some creative things to do WHILE I drive. One of which is READING. (This probably seems a little unsafe to you, so I safe-ified it). I tell Brooklyn to "Open it up!" Her hands open and become the book. We have several different stories. One story: "Once upon a time there were 10 little fingers. There names were Uno, Dos, Tres, Quatro, Cinco, Seis, Siete, Ocho, Nueve, and Dies! And they lived HaPPily ever after. THE END!" and then we SLAM our hands shut, closing the book. We also do the 3 bears. "Once upon time there were THREE bears. A Daddy bear, a Mommy bear, and a BABY bear. They were hungry so they made OATMEAL! Daddy's oatmeal was TOO hot. Mommy's oatmeal was TOO cold. Baby's oatmeal was JUST right and he ate it ALL gone. YUM... Delicioso! The END!" David like this game MUCH better than our singing and he readily joined in.
"How bout I'll read you the three bears?" He asked Brooklyn. "OKAY!" She excitedly exclaimed. His telling of Goldy Locks and the Three Bears was beautiful. But LONG. Every time David would take a breath Brooklyn was slam her hands together, "THE END!" and David would continue. Then Brooklyn screamed, "THE END!" and David would continue. Starling and I were giggling like two kids that heard a toodle in the middle of church. Watching Brooklyn and David interact was hilarious. When story time ended (on DAVID's terms) Brooklyn wanted to catch a frog. (This is another game I taught Brooklyn as a form of distraction. We catch random animals and eat them). I stuck the imaginary frog in my mouth. AND IT TRIED TO JUMP OUT! I stuck my tongue in my cheek and moved it around. David's eyes got huge and then they both started giggling. "PLEH!" I spat out the frog. You would have thought the tickle monster had attacked those two. Then we caught all kinds of other animals... we ate birds, snakes, worms, baby jaguar, and even snacked on some Diego.
We were running late so we had to go STRAIGHT to Starling's Tennis match. So my unmade up face and nappy hair got to meet ALL of his tennis team for the first time. NOTHING like making an outstanding first impression. But on the bright side, at least I'd worn deodorant.
Brooklyn and David played on the playground while Kathryn, my ABOUT to be sister-n-law, chit chatted. Then David said, "Brooklyn needs to go potty." Kathryn and her sweet as a pop tart self volunteered to take her. We all walked into the bathroom and Kathryn put Brooklyn on the pot and then gasped. Brooklyn had pooped. Diarrhea kind of poop. GLOBS of it. It would appear that Brooklyn hadn't pooped in a month and it ALL came out at once. IN HER PANTIES. Poop was EVERYWHERE. Kathryn looked like she didn't know if she should laugh, cry, throw up... I threw Brighton to her and dove in up to my elbows. Luckily there was a shower in the bathroom that I chunked Brooklyn into. I soaped her down, cleaned her off then headed to bath the bathroom stall. Some lady came in to pee and Kathryn said... "Sorry... we had a little accident." The lady took in the scene and hurriedly got OUT of there. David, nauseated and mortified to be sitting in the girls bathroom proclaimed, "I KNEW I should have ridden with Uncle Eric."
It was disgusting. Brooklyn pooped in her panties at church today, also. She's had the runs for the last couple of days and its about to kill me. Her so called "accident" level has gone off the charts and I REFUSE to put her back in diapers. I don't know what this reversion back to trying to hold it until its falling out of her IS, but it needs to pass and QUICKLY. My stomach can't take any more.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Santa Rosa
Well I thought we were going to Pardido the whole time... not that I have any idea where that is either, but the Johnson Family Summer Trip ended up being in Santa Rosa. Amazingly- Starling and I FINALLY found it. I was thrilled when three a.m. rolled around and our GPS announced we had arrived at our destination. It was the middle of NOWHERE and there was no condo. So we called Eric who was already at the condo and sleeping. No answer. Starling, of course, thought he could "figure it out." SO... I was REALLY excited when FOUR a.m. arrived and we were NO closer to finding the condo. Eric FINALLY answered and told us that his GPS hadn't recognized the address either. So he gave us directions from a Tom Thumb. Too bad there are like a MILLION and we were at the WRONG ONE. But eventually... we DID in fact find the condo. Did you know there are WAL MARTS that CLOSE??? There's one here. Crazy.
Starling, his dad, Eric, and Meghan and Andy played a Tennis Tourny that lasted about the whole trip. Steph, Mary, and I mostly played at the beach and pool with all the kiddies. OH how the children enjoy playing with their cousins! They splashed and squealed for four days straight. Starling ended up winning the giant trophy... a REAL gold Tennis Racket. Pure gold. Worth millions. It'll be displayed in our window until their next tournament and a new winner takes the gold. (Yay. What I've ALWAYS wanted... a giant tennis racket... it matches our decor perfectly). The WHITE DRAGON, Starling's father, wants to make it known on my blog that HE would have won if he didn't have the tennis elbow. (Or if he wasn't 30 plus years older. I'm just saying). But, since he couldn't win, he's glad his son won. (Opposed to all the options... his OTHER son... or his DAUGHTER). Anyway- Les played valiantly through all his excuses as did Andy through all of HIS excuses. Starling better start working on some good reasons to lose in the event that someone takes his gold next year.
I read an entire book... a nice THICK book called "Uglies." Steph brought two of Jen's books and I read the one she wasn't reading. I can't remember the last time I had time to READ... or the last time I picked up a book that I didn't have to return to the library for being FILTHY. (Books should seriously have ratings. They should warn that they have written porn up in it or the F bomb every couple of pages). But the book I read was squeaky clean. And pretty interesting. It was so NICE.
We decided to have a game night. Starling and Eric took out the trash before we started. It took them FOREVER to come back. We played our games... Quirkle- I REALLY like... sounds like a gassy leak out of someone's tush... but the game is pretty fun.
After Meghan and Andy left to go back to their condo, Starling and Eric started cackling. They were really turning a bit red as they announced that Meghan and Andy were in for a big surprise. Uh oh. Starling and Eric took a little DETOUR earlier that night when they were SUPPOSED to be taking out the trash. In actuality, they had raided the public restroom of toilet paper and rolled Meghan and Andy's condo. On the mirror they left a big sign "Romney 2012." And then in every possible location they left Romney notes... under all pillows, in the microwave, the oven, the fridge. They also left a big "OBAMA OUT" sign.
Random. You are thinking, HOW RANDOM. But... there, like all seemingly senile behaviors my husband exhibits, is a story. When Starling's mom overheard their tale of their prank, she scolded, "STARLING! WHAT were you THINKING??" Every good story starts this way. He said, "Mom, remember four years ago..." I died out laughing... TALK about holding a GRUDGE. Four years ago Starling bought bumper stickers for all of his family... They were Romney stickers... his campaign contribution. Well, little did we know, Obama fans were amongst our family. Andy peeled every bumper sticker off and rattily smooshed them all over Starling's car. Starling vowed to seek revenge.
Yesterday was that day. Starling is VEEEERRRY patient. Andy... a little hasty. Andy didn't know what our new car looked like, but recognized Steph and Eric's. After he saw his trashed apartment, he wrote on the hood of their car, Obama Fans... Obama 2012. He rolled it and wrote some stuff on the windows. Well... Eric cleaned up the toilet paper and windows... but the car hood?? WOULDN'T come off.
The text messages started. Our entire little condo chimed in to come up with the wittiest, must guilt inducing messages... Eric told Andy that he owed him a paint job and a box of tissues because Steph had used all the box in the condo. We told him the Shuffle Board Tourny was canceled due to un-sportsmen-like conduct. We had them going pretty good. I'm sure Andy was remorseful. (He should feel remorse for VOTING in Obama... and then to deface someone's CAR with that NAME...). But Politics isn't something I LOVE dwelling on... I get kind of worked up and defensive about my views... so I'll leave that subject alone until I've researched all the new candidates and am politically informed.
Anyway- the guys have been smearing the name off the car all morning and now we are packing to head back to Hattiesburg. I dread the drive... although it SHOULD only take four or five hours... unlike our trip DOWN here! And we won't be driving at NIGHT so the kiddies MIGHT be awake most of the time... And we're bringing our nephew back with us. He's going to be THRILLED to sit squished between two car seats. Poor thing. I'm still not sure how we're going to get all of our stuff back. Starling bought out the Goodwill because he doesn't have enough clothes at home. (And he has TONS of clothes. I know so because I do the laundry. I'm very excited about this NEW closet full of clothes waiting to be washed upon my return. I bought TWO pair of shorts. THAT's IT. I think about things like laundry and space in my closet before I buy).
I better drink my chocolate shake before the ice cream is packed... Noone wants to ride five hours with a cranky Wendi who hasn't had her fix.
Starling, his dad, Eric, and Meghan and Andy played a Tennis Tourny that lasted about the whole trip. Steph, Mary, and I mostly played at the beach and pool with all the kiddies. OH how the children enjoy playing with their cousins! They splashed and squealed for four days straight. Starling ended up winning the giant trophy... a REAL gold Tennis Racket. Pure gold. Worth millions. It'll be displayed in our window until their next tournament and a new winner takes the gold. (Yay. What I've ALWAYS wanted... a giant tennis racket... it matches our decor perfectly). The WHITE DRAGON, Starling's father, wants to make it known on my blog that HE would have won if he didn't have the tennis elbow. (Or if he wasn't 30 plus years older. I'm just saying). But, since he couldn't win, he's glad his son won. (Opposed to all the options... his OTHER son... or his DAUGHTER). Anyway- Les played valiantly through all his excuses as did Andy through all of HIS excuses. Starling better start working on some good reasons to lose in the event that someone takes his gold next year.
I read an entire book... a nice THICK book called "Uglies." Steph brought two of Jen's books and I read the one she wasn't reading. I can't remember the last time I had time to READ... or the last time I picked up a book that I didn't have to return to the library for being FILTHY. (Books should seriously have ratings. They should warn that they have written porn up in it or the F bomb every couple of pages). But the book I read was squeaky clean. And pretty interesting. It was so NICE.
We decided to have a game night. Starling and Eric took out the trash before we started. It took them FOREVER to come back. We played our games... Quirkle- I REALLY like... sounds like a gassy leak out of someone's tush... but the game is pretty fun.
After Meghan and Andy left to go back to their condo, Starling and Eric started cackling. They were really turning a bit red as they announced that Meghan and Andy were in for a big surprise. Uh oh. Starling and Eric took a little DETOUR earlier that night when they were SUPPOSED to be taking out the trash. In actuality, they had raided the public restroom of toilet paper and rolled Meghan and Andy's condo. On the mirror they left a big sign "Romney 2012." And then in every possible location they left Romney notes... under all pillows, in the microwave, the oven, the fridge. They also left a big "OBAMA OUT" sign.
Random. You are thinking, HOW RANDOM. But... there, like all seemingly senile behaviors my husband exhibits, is a story. When Starling's mom overheard their tale of their prank, she scolded, "STARLING! WHAT were you THINKING??" Every good story starts this way. He said, "Mom, remember four years ago..." I died out laughing... TALK about holding a GRUDGE. Four years ago Starling bought bumper stickers for all of his family... They were Romney stickers... his campaign contribution. Well, little did we know, Obama fans were amongst our family. Andy peeled every bumper sticker off and rattily smooshed them all over Starling's car. Starling vowed to seek revenge.
Yesterday was that day. Starling is VEEEERRRY patient. Andy... a little hasty. Andy didn't know what our new car looked like, but recognized Steph and Eric's. After he saw his trashed apartment, he wrote on the hood of their car, Obama Fans... Obama 2012. He rolled it and wrote some stuff on the windows. Well... Eric cleaned up the toilet paper and windows... but the car hood?? WOULDN'T come off.
The text messages started. Our entire little condo chimed in to come up with the wittiest, must guilt inducing messages... Eric told Andy that he owed him a paint job and a box of tissues because Steph had used all the box in the condo. We told him the Shuffle Board Tourny was canceled due to un-sportsmen-like conduct. We had them going pretty good. I'm sure Andy was remorseful. (He should feel remorse for VOTING in Obama... and then to deface someone's CAR with that NAME...). But Politics isn't something I LOVE dwelling on... I get kind of worked up and defensive about my views... so I'll leave that subject alone until I've researched all the new candidates and am politically informed.
Anyway- the guys have been smearing the name off the car all morning and now we are packing to head back to Hattiesburg. I dread the drive... although it SHOULD only take four or five hours... unlike our trip DOWN here! And we won't be driving at NIGHT so the kiddies MIGHT be awake most of the time... And we're bringing our nephew back with us. He's going to be THRILLED to sit squished between two car seats. Poor thing. I'm still not sure how we're going to get all of our stuff back. Starling bought out the Goodwill because he doesn't have enough clothes at home. (And he has TONS of clothes. I know so because I do the laundry. I'm very excited about this NEW closet full of clothes waiting to be washed upon my return. I bought TWO pair of shorts. THAT's IT. I think about things like laundry and space in my closet before I buy).
I better drink my chocolate shake before the ice cream is packed... Noone wants to ride five hours with a cranky Wendi who hasn't had her fix.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Work (Warn) Out
So I mentioned I joined a gym. Yeah... the 180 Fitness that's 19 bucks a month. (I figured I could SPLURGE to get into a gym THAT cheap). AND, as a woman who highly values the worth of her dollar, I've been hitting that gym everyday! But... the problem is... the gym hit back. A WHOLE LOT HARDER than I hit at IT!
Monday I went to the gym around 6 p.m. I worked out my arms. I, having NEVER worked out in a gym in my entire LIFE, was clueless. I walked up to each machine and looked at the little picture of the man to see what part of the body the machine worked. Then I had to read all the instructions on how to work the machine. (Then I had to re-read the instructions about four more times before it CLICKED). I always like to give a little push with the weight the person before me used... ya know... to GAGE how weak I am in comparison to other people. When I worked my legs... at least the weight would almost MOVE. With my arms? I might as well been lifting a brick house. So I lowered the weight. Tried again. Nothing. Lowered the weight. Nothing. Finally I get the machine to move.. KIND of. I went to lower it again... but it was already on the lowest amount of weight. WOW. Noodle arms. So I did my three sets on each machine that had any red on the little man on the machine anywhere in the top region of his body. ON the lowest amount of weight. Then I sat on the crunch bench. There were no instructions on the crunch bench. I'd watched several people do it and figured it was pretty self explanatory. Until I tried it. I strained to pull the back up into a crunch position. Then I looked for a way to adjust it. Then I noticed that people were staring, but NOT one of those snickering twerps offered some guidance. Finally I asked some dude that was trying not to laugh what on earth I was doing wrong. He told me I was sitting on the part that was supposed to lift. SOoo once I got my big BUTT off the lift... I was able to crunch successfully. Well. Kind of.
Apparently being pregnant really screws up a girl's abs. The more I work them, the farther it seems they jab out my belly. Where I could once do fifty or sixty crunches before getting winded... I did fifteen and was about to KILL over DEAD like a mosquito meeting a train. I figured I'd worked out long enough and went home.
Starling asked how my work out went. "Oh it was good! I did a whole bunch of machines and even some ab stuff. I still feel kind of clueless on what to work out, though..." He asked what I had attempted. "My arms.. and all that stuff on the top." He asked if I was sore. "No. Not really. The sorest thing on my body is my MOUTH... GEEZ... I won't chew gum again while I'm working out." He snorted. "You're not doing something right." Geez, Sherlock... you figured that out and didn't even have to see me fumbling over the machines? "Well, I feel great!" He laughed... "Yeah... but after you work out your arms you should feel burnt out. It should be hard for you to lift a bar of soap." Oh. "Well... I only did like 10 pounds. Any more than that and it hurt to push." And who tries to intentionally inflict PAIN on their arms?
But YESTERDAY, Tuesday, when I went to work out my legs at FIVE in the morning, I remembered what Starling said about burning out and all that jazz about its SUPPOSED to hurt. I did all the machines with the little man's legs being colored in red. I'd been there an hour and a half. I didn't know how to tell when I was DONE. When I did three sets on all the machines I headed over to the ab station. I barely made it there. My legs were tweaking out and about to let me fall on my face. I watched all the people doing abs and copied them. Every time I stood up I got dizzy. "Hmm... maybe that means I'm done." So I got back in my car. (Car not PURPLE VAN!) and went home. I felt exhilarated and sore. Woo hoo! I did it RIGHT! By the time 10 p.m. came... my entire BODY ached.
Well. My alarm went off at six this morning. The sheer movement of turning my body to shut the dang thing off, brought a near scream to my lips. When I sat up, my mid section BROKE in half. And it hurt too bad to EASE myself back down. I just flopped backwards taking the duct tape approach. (Do it quick and get it over with). My chest hurt, my legs hurt, my stomach hurt, my back hurt, my neck hurt, my bum hurt. I thought of what I could possibly work out that wasn't already sore. My brain. Nah. I don't feel like exercising THAT muscle. I went back to sleep. When I DID finally get up to feed Brighton, I looked like a stooped over ninety year old woman. I winced with every movement of my leg. Starling looked a little too amused for my liking. "I don't feel good. I'm aching all over." I went to take my temperature. 98.5. "I feel like I have the flu." Starling said, "It’s from working out. It’s normal." Hmm... that certainly hadn't occurred to me. Normal. Pain and agony isn't something that motivates me to exercise. “It’s usually the worst two days after .” TWO days? Its only ONE day after… so it’ll get WORSE??
Anyway. I attempted several productive things today. But walking behind a vacuum proved too painful to my legs. Folding laundry hurt my arms. Washing dishes was okay until I had to BEND over to put the dishes in the dishwasher. So I decided to blog instead. It only uses my fingers. The ONLY part of my body not beat up and bruised.
Monday I went to the gym around 6 p.m. I worked out my arms. I, having NEVER worked out in a gym in my entire LIFE, was clueless. I walked up to each machine and looked at the little picture of the man to see what part of the body the machine worked. Then I had to read all the instructions on how to work the machine. (Then I had to re-read the instructions about four more times before it CLICKED). I always like to give a little push with the weight the person before me used... ya know... to GAGE how weak I am in comparison to other people. When I worked my legs... at least the weight would almost MOVE. With my arms? I might as well been lifting a brick house. So I lowered the weight. Tried again. Nothing. Lowered the weight. Nothing. Finally I get the machine to move.. KIND of. I went to lower it again... but it was already on the lowest amount of weight. WOW. Noodle arms. So I did my three sets on each machine that had any red on the little man on the machine anywhere in the top region of his body. ON the lowest amount of weight. Then I sat on the crunch bench. There were no instructions on the crunch bench. I'd watched several people do it and figured it was pretty self explanatory. Until I tried it. I strained to pull the back up into a crunch position. Then I looked for a way to adjust it. Then I noticed that people were staring, but NOT one of those snickering twerps offered some guidance. Finally I asked some dude that was trying not to laugh what on earth I was doing wrong. He told me I was sitting on the part that was supposed to lift. SOoo once I got my big BUTT off the lift... I was able to crunch successfully. Well. Kind of.
Apparently being pregnant really screws up a girl's abs. The more I work them, the farther it seems they jab out my belly. Where I could once do fifty or sixty crunches before getting winded... I did fifteen and was about to KILL over DEAD like a mosquito meeting a train. I figured I'd worked out long enough and went home.
Starling asked how my work out went. "Oh it was good! I did a whole bunch of machines and even some ab stuff. I still feel kind of clueless on what to work out, though..." He asked what I had attempted. "My arms.. and all that stuff on the top." He asked if I was sore. "No. Not really. The sorest thing on my body is my MOUTH... GEEZ... I won't chew gum again while I'm working out." He snorted. "You're not doing something right." Geez, Sherlock... you figured that out and didn't even have to see me fumbling over the machines? "Well, I feel great!" He laughed... "Yeah... but after you work out your arms you should feel burnt out. It should be hard for you to lift a bar of soap." Oh. "Well... I only did like 10 pounds. Any more than that and it hurt to push." And who tries to intentionally inflict PAIN on their arms?
But YESTERDAY, Tuesday, when I went to work out my legs at FIVE in the morning, I remembered what Starling said about burning out and all that jazz about its SUPPOSED to hurt. I did all the machines with the little man's legs being colored in red. I'd been there an hour and a half. I didn't know how to tell when I was DONE. When I did three sets on all the machines I headed over to the ab station. I barely made it there. My legs were tweaking out and about to let me fall on my face. I watched all the people doing abs and copied them. Every time I stood up I got dizzy. "Hmm... maybe that means I'm done." So I got back in my car. (Car not PURPLE VAN!) and went home. I felt exhilarated and sore. Woo hoo! I did it RIGHT! By the time 10 p.m. came... my entire BODY ached.
Well. My alarm went off at six this morning. The sheer movement of turning my body to shut the dang thing off, brought a near scream to my lips. When I sat up, my mid section BROKE in half. And it hurt too bad to EASE myself back down. I just flopped backwards taking the duct tape approach. (Do it quick and get it over with). My chest hurt, my legs hurt, my stomach hurt, my back hurt, my neck hurt, my bum hurt. I thought of what I could possibly work out that wasn't already sore. My brain. Nah. I don't feel like exercising THAT muscle. I went back to sleep. When I DID finally get up to feed Brighton, I looked like a stooped over ninety year old woman. I winced with every movement of my leg. Starling looked a little too amused for my liking. "I don't feel good. I'm aching all over." I went to take my temperature. 98.5. "I feel like I have the flu." Starling said, "It’s from working out. It’s normal." Hmm... that certainly hadn't occurred to me. Normal. Pain and agony isn't something that motivates me to exercise. “It’s usually the worst two days after .” TWO days? Its only ONE day after… so it’ll get WORSE??
Anyway. I attempted several productive things today. But walking behind a vacuum proved too painful to my legs. Folding laundry hurt my arms. Washing dishes was okay until I had to BEND over to put the dishes in the dishwasher. So I decided to blog instead. It only uses my fingers. The ONLY part of my body not beat up and bruised.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
SURPRISE!!
Seriously. Have I ever mentioned that my husband is a NUT?? Well, if I DIDn'T- lET ME TELL YOU- he is a NUT!!
I am in Destin at the moment. My parents were insistent that I come down with them last Sunday. I packed up in 30 minutes and loaded up my babies and headed off with my parents. My cousin Shannon and her baby Madison were already here along with my Aunt and Uncle. We lolly gagged for four days mostly shopping the Good Wills and other thrift stores. Everyone was SUPPOSED to leave on Thursday. By Thursday I was DYING to see my husband. (I don't know why. I just gripe at him... but I guess I missed having someone to gripe at). Anyway, he called to see how I was, as he did every night. (He was missing my griping, too). I told him that I was coming home and would see him that night. Starling said, "Oh. Well, I thought I'd come down there for the weekend." Come down Friday night or Saturday MORNING and come home Sunday? That sounded dumb. Really dumb. Especially considering we'll be in Florida seven days for the Johnson Family Vacation at the end of July. The REAL reasons I wanted to come home... and they may seem totally lame... I just bought a GYM membership and I've worked out TWICE. Two times. Then I left for Destin. And I'm going to miss another week of exercise in two weeks. I'm one to get my dang money's worth. If I would have known I'd be GONE all month then I would have waited until August to start working out. The OTHER, and MAIN, reason I'm homesick... I miss the Spiers Family. The entire trip up I was texting Jessie and would have been FINE except they (HER fam AND the Spiers fam) were ALL together (which is probably the closest thing to uncensored, unrehearsed comedy you can GET), and having a BLAST. WITHOUT ME. And Lance didn't make me feel any better telling me what food they were chowing down on. Jack's Seafood. If you haven't been to Picayune or McNiel... take a trip JUST to visit that restaurant. Preston Spiers owns it and it is AMAZING!! (And I don't even LIKE fish but someone would have lost an arm if they'd tried to separate me from my plate of food when I ate there). ANYWAY- THAT wouldn't have been SO terrible, just saddening, except it was SUNDAY and I was STARVING to death but wouldn't stop and eat because I'm too prideful and Holier than Thou to break the Sabbath in front of my parents. (Or in general). SO. I was the cow on the other side of the fence coveting greener grass.
So I tried to get the Spiers to just bring the party to Destin BUT they wouldn't. (Or couldn't... but SHOULD'VE found a WAY). But I ended up having a great time with my fam. (They TOO are loony. Imagine that). AND I got to do my water aerobics in the pool... with about 30 people watching and wondering if I were drowning or just a terrible swimmer.
I ASKED Starling why he couldn't just come down Thursday. Because... he had SOOO much work to do Friday. Well.. why couldn't he LEAVE HAttiesburg AT five? BECAUSE he had to speak at some THING at church. COULDN'T they get someone ELSE to help? NOOOooo, he already committed and PLUS he really WANTED to do it. FINE. Then I should just come HOME Thursday. NOOO... Starling REALLY wanted to get out of Hattiesburg and relax after a hard week working 8-5 at his internship. For. Free. We can relax in our BACK YARD in our POOL AND we can have all our friends over. Nooo... Starling REEEALLY just needs a break OUT of town. Understandable with neighbor kids and clients that just show up at our house unannounced.
OH and the THIRD reason I was homesick was my LAPTOP. I left it for Starling to use for school and work and I couldn't BLOG. DO YOU KNOW how ANTSY I get without BEING able to BLOG??? I was like a crack addict trying to detox cold turkey. (NOT a pretty sight).
So ANYWAY I was trying to get a time line of WHEN Starling was going to show up and EVERY time I called he sounded REALLY rushed like he didn't have time to talk. AND THAT was if he even ANSWERED. I was getting REALLY annoyed. SO annoyed that when he finally called me back Thursday night I was NOT the SWEET little wife I should be. (Not that I'm ever a bowl of molasses but I'm at least a skittle). I was short with him and acted indifferent to his coming. He couldn't make time for me when "I" wanted to talk... then I would't make time for him. Hmph.
He told me he missed me and couldn't wait to see me. Okay. "Don't you miss ME?" he asked. I did. A LOT. Like I'd ADMIT that. "I guess." I'm very prideful and a tad bit on the grudge holding side... and stubborn, tactless... I won't go on with the REST of my endearing qualities. Anyway- he told me he loved me again and his phone was dying, then hung up. Hmph, I thought again. And OF COURSE FRIDAY he was running late. He said he'd leave Hattiesburg around 8 p.m. BUT of course it was TEN and not ONLY had he not LEFT... HE WAS TIRED! He'd have to take a nap. FABULOUS! I thought. He'll end up driving ALL night, getting here SATURDAY MORNING and then SLEEPING all DAY to catch up on driving all NIGHT and then it'll be Sunday and we'll drive home. DUMB. So while I stared at the ceiling, in a bed that isn't even an INKLING as comfy as MY bed, listening to the upstairs occupants that, according to my dad, rearrange their furniture all night long, I was annoyed. JUST irritable- like I get for no apparent reason MONTHLY. And the OTHER thing- I dreaded the ride home in the Purple Panther. In case you haven't heard, we got the air fixed. It worked for a GRAND total of THREE days. THEN we took it back to the place that was SUPPOSED to have fixed it. BY THE WAY, people who just paid 200 bucks for us to fix your air, you need a new evaporator coil... just a $1,000 fix. (OR a TWO day job of Starling doing it HIMSELF! Remember we only PAID $1500 bucks for the dang van)! The thought of riding FOUR hours in the JULY heat with two babies in the backseat was thrilling. ESPECIALLY when I could have ridden in a NICE COLD van on THURSDAY. For those of you who Don't know the history of the GLORIOUS history of the Purple Panther, it's beautiful appearance can be summed up by Jennifer Trussel's comment to Starling. When asked by Starling, "We got this van for $1500... you think its a good deal?" Jennifer glared at Starling like a cow looks at an on-coming train as she stated, "You got ripped off." I do like to give the Purple Panther credit for rescuing us in our time of need. In the Panthers defense, it got us home after having to leave our Altima in NC in the beginning of all of this mess. And THAT is why we are going to sell it to another poor family instead of dropping off a cliff somewhere.
Let us take a moment of silence for the Purple Panther. I've written a few thank you notes to the Purple Panther.(Jimmy Fallon music) Thank you, Purple Panther, for teaching me to be humble while my friends in Mercedes stare me down at red lights wondering why my windows are down in 1,010 degree heat... Thank you, Purple Panther, for teaching me how to sport the sexy Wind Blown look after taking 2 hours to straighten my hair... Thank you, Purple Panther, for reducing my pride to negative three as my friends comment "poor things" as they watch me remove my sweat drenched children from the backseat having gone a mere 5 miles down the road... Thank you, Purple Panther, for teaching me to have military-like stealth skills hiding in parking lots hoping no one sees me getting out or in... Thank you, for making me a paranoid FREAK as I could not automatically lock my doors if a mass murderer decided to hop in next to me... Thank you, for teaching me patience when I would have to crank you six times to get you to start. I may have been too prideful to drive certain vehicles in my past... but because of you, Purple Panther, I would drive a Log Truck if it had air conditioning. Having learned my lesson on humility, my Altima is to me a Lamborghini.
But anyway, I would call Starling periodically to make sure he wasn't hugging a tree somewhere and he'd NEVER answer. THEN he'd call me BACK WAY LATER and I'd be MAD yet AGAIN that he couldn't even TALK to me while he was locked in a BORING van driving ALL night. He said his phone was going dead. SERIOUSLY? Why didn't you CHARGE it while you were SLEEPING??
NEEDLESS to say, I finally fell asleep around FOUR and was in NO hurry to answer the knock on the door at SIX Saturday morning. I stumbled to the door flopping into the wall TWICE before I could get my body to stand upright, opened the door, and was back in bed under the covers before Starling even sat his stuff down. (Just a DELIGHTFUL greeting and a wonderful person I am to have as a wife). Starling crawled in next to me and muttered, "Don't rush to give me a hug or anything." I may have acknowledged that comment with a snort, but I was already dreaming again so I can't be sure.
When I woke to Brighton's cooing and Brooklyn's giggles, I was in a MUCH better mood! (Not that worse was really an OPTION). Starling got his well deserved hug and a smooch and a pat on the head. Starling asked if I'd like to take a walk. "OH YES!" exclaimed Brooklyn as she raced to the stroller. SOOO my mom, who stayed behind with us while everyone else left, the kids, and Starling and I headed on our walk through Destin. GORGEOUS. Everything here is beautiful. I yawned while Starling and my mom giddily talked about the palm trees and tried to decipher the different types. Starling has been researching palm trees because he's decided they are his tree of landscape choice. I like palm trees. I'd rather chew on a razor blade then spend any time researching a palm tree. HENCE the difference between my smart and informed husband and his flighty oblivious WIFE.
We pretended that we could have an OPINION about the beach houses. OH- THAT is the one I want! I like the color of the stucco and how it contrasts with the clay roof. And the rod iron decor! THAT is lovely. And then we'd turn our noses up at another 4 million dollar home. Oh WHAT WERE they THINKING painting it THAT color? (Knowing good and well if we could get it in our price range we'd be kissing the repulsive color all the while BEAMING to own such a fancy house). Even the sidewalks are pretty. Pretty concrete.
When I thought Brooklyn was going to slide off Starling's shoulders from all the slippery sweat, I suggested we turn back. We tried a round fruit off one of the palm trees. Starling said it was a Date. WELL... I see why its called that. At first taste, it is sweet and delicious. But the AFTER taste... Makes a girl want to VOMIT. Like buttered popcorn dipped in sweaty armpit. Luckily starling had some jolly ranchers in his pocket that we used to mask the taste. (That's my Eagle scout! Way to be prepared!)
When we got back to the apartment Starling started asking me MORE about my preference of palm trees. He said, "Come look at this palm over here. You see how its more of a pineapple bottom? Do you like that or more of a tree like stem?" I tried not to yell- I DON'T CARE about PALM TREES. I just want them PLANTED and I'll be happy. I smiled and said, "Whatever YOU think, dear." Then Starling said, "Huh... that car looks just like yours." I glanced into the parking lot. A cute little white Altima. "Yep. Sure does." As does probably half of Hattiesburg's cars. I turned to walk away and Starling started circling the car. "Man... this one is Just like it." Uh huh. BIG deal. My neighbor has one JUST like it. About two thirds of the Wal MART parking lot has ones JUST like it. Its NOT a rare find. Starling was acting WEIRD. I humored him and nodded my head while I joined him in googling over this random Altima. Wait. "THAT IS MY CAR! IS THAT MY CAR!!? YOU GOT MY CAR BACK?! HOW?! WHEN?!"
WELL. So the reason Starling was RUSHED when talking to me and his PHONE kept being DEAD is because his phone was on ROAMING and that drains a battery. APPARENTLY Starling bought a van in Philly. Bid on it on EBAY. (Yeah. The man is slow in the lesson learning department. BUT this one DOES have a clean title! And air conditioning. And power locks and windows. THAT is ALL I care about). He hopped on a plane, catching a random RIDE with our friends Brian and Stacey who just HAPPENED to be catching a flight from the same airport at the same time. He had his friend Bumpy (a chic he hiked the Appalachian Trail with) and her husband meet up with him and he went to their house with the van. I kept calling during their dinner (while they were trying to play catch up after TEN years of separation), and Starling kept feeding me some line about finishing up an offer on a house for one of his clients and then calling me back. So he took a three hour nap at their place then started the 19 hour drive home. WELL, our CAR- the ALTIMA- was STILL in North Carolina where the dealership, that was SUPPOSED to be HELPING us with our title issue, had stopped returning Starling's calls. Starling DROVE to the dealership and confronted them. (He'd given them FAIR warning! All they had to do was PROCESS some paperwork and he couldn't get them on the phone! He called EVERYDAY for THREE WEEKS. So... he told them if he didn't hear from them in the next two days he was flying up there to handle their idiodicy in person. Of course he said it nicely). The lady, Michelle, that was supposed to be handling the case, had ALL the paperwork on her desk in an envelope that had been sitting there for THREE weeks. STILL not processed. Starling threw a refined and dignified FIT, unlike one I would throw... (I'd be biting ankles and throwing punches). AND, he listed their inadequacies very nicely. "You failed to return ANY of my calls for the last three weeks robbing me of peace of mind. You lost my key with the keyless entry. You ran my battery down. I had to make a SPECIAL trip up here 13 HOURS away from MS, my THIRD trip, just to TALK to you! And you want to charge me $500 for transaction fees?" He then named names of ALL the people he'd left messages for. And then they hadn't even TURNED in the paperwork? Faced with Starling in PERSON, suddenly they were eager to assist and OH so apologetic.
Starling got everything finalized while he was there and we should receive our title in the mail in 2 to 3 weeks. Starling left the VAN in North Carolina and drove down my car. (He thought I'd be happier to see it than a van. He was RIGHT!!) So NOW we have to go get the van. He'll probably just fly up there and get it instead of us trying to make more blunderful memories out of a vacation. I didn't realize HOW long I've been without my car! I don't think Starling can count this as an anniversary gift since it counted as my birthday present last September... but maybe the van can. Anyway- ASK me HOW HAPPY I AM! Let's just say SOMEBODY isn't getting griped at this weekend. And, not to go all PG13 on ya, but he got his reward and we'll pray that breastfeeding works as good for birth control with Brighton as it did with Brooklyn.
Starling has a habit of sneaking off for glorious surprises. And I have a habit of being CLUELESS. He is a really good liar. Hmm.. Our engagement. "What are you doing?" "I'm sitting in biology." What was he really doing? Driving three straight days from Utah with the intent to marry is ex-girlfriend. (ME. I was the ex-girlfriend. Yes we were broken up when we got engaged). Every birthday party I've ever had... "I just need to stop by so-and-so's for a minute." SUrPRISE! And of course my birthday car... "We're going to a Chic Fil A opening. Bummer. We missed it. We're going to take a shuttle up into the mountains." Okay... I don't see mountains but SURE... I believe you. Oh the shuttle is your BIRTHDAY present- a white Altima like you wanted! And then this little escapade! Nuts. I hope he never meets a woman that is nice to him. If Starling decided to have an affair I'd be that clueless little wife that has no idea. I'd be mean and pissed over all the excuses for being away... but clueless.
I am in Destin at the moment. My parents were insistent that I come down with them last Sunday. I packed up in 30 minutes and loaded up my babies and headed off with my parents. My cousin Shannon and her baby Madison were already here along with my Aunt and Uncle. We lolly gagged for four days mostly shopping the Good Wills and other thrift stores. Everyone was SUPPOSED to leave on Thursday. By Thursday I was DYING to see my husband. (I don't know why. I just gripe at him... but I guess I missed having someone to gripe at). Anyway, he called to see how I was, as he did every night. (He was missing my griping, too). I told him that I was coming home and would see him that night. Starling said, "Oh. Well, I thought I'd come down there for the weekend." Come down Friday night or Saturday MORNING and come home Sunday? That sounded dumb. Really dumb. Especially considering we'll be in Florida seven days for the Johnson Family Vacation at the end of July. The REAL reasons I wanted to come home... and they may seem totally lame... I just bought a GYM membership and I've worked out TWICE. Two times. Then I left for Destin. And I'm going to miss another week of exercise in two weeks. I'm one to get my dang money's worth. If I would have known I'd be GONE all month then I would have waited until August to start working out. The OTHER, and MAIN, reason I'm homesick... I miss the Spiers Family. The entire trip up I was texting Jessie and would have been FINE except they (HER fam AND the Spiers fam) were ALL together (which is probably the closest thing to uncensored, unrehearsed comedy you can GET), and having a BLAST. WITHOUT ME. And Lance didn't make me feel any better telling me what food they were chowing down on. Jack's Seafood. If you haven't been to Picayune or McNiel... take a trip JUST to visit that restaurant. Preston Spiers owns it and it is AMAZING!! (And I don't even LIKE fish but someone would have lost an arm if they'd tried to separate me from my plate of food when I ate there). ANYWAY- THAT wouldn't have been SO terrible, just saddening, except it was SUNDAY and I was STARVING to death but wouldn't stop and eat because I'm too prideful and Holier than Thou to break the Sabbath in front of my parents. (Or in general). SO. I was the cow on the other side of the fence coveting greener grass.
So I tried to get the Spiers to just bring the party to Destin BUT they wouldn't. (Or couldn't... but SHOULD'VE found a WAY). But I ended up having a great time with my fam. (They TOO are loony. Imagine that). AND I got to do my water aerobics in the pool... with about 30 people watching and wondering if I were drowning or just a terrible swimmer.
I ASKED Starling why he couldn't just come down Thursday. Because... he had SOOO much work to do Friday. Well.. why couldn't he LEAVE HAttiesburg AT five? BECAUSE he had to speak at some THING at church. COULDN'T they get someone ELSE to help? NOOOooo, he already committed and PLUS he really WANTED to do it. FINE. Then I should just come HOME Thursday. NOOO... Starling REALLY wanted to get out of Hattiesburg and relax after a hard week working 8-5 at his internship. For. Free. We can relax in our BACK YARD in our POOL AND we can have all our friends over. Nooo... Starling REEEALLY just needs a break OUT of town. Understandable with neighbor kids and clients that just show up at our house unannounced.
OH and the THIRD reason I was homesick was my LAPTOP. I left it for Starling to use for school and work and I couldn't BLOG. DO YOU KNOW how ANTSY I get without BEING able to BLOG??? I was like a crack addict trying to detox cold turkey. (NOT a pretty sight).
So ANYWAY I was trying to get a time line of WHEN Starling was going to show up and EVERY time I called he sounded REALLY rushed like he didn't have time to talk. AND THAT was if he even ANSWERED. I was getting REALLY annoyed. SO annoyed that when he finally called me back Thursday night I was NOT the SWEET little wife I should be. (Not that I'm ever a bowl of molasses but I'm at least a skittle). I was short with him and acted indifferent to his coming. He couldn't make time for me when "I" wanted to talk... then I would't make time for him. Hmph.
He told me he missed me and couldn't wait to see me. Okay. "Don't you miss ME?" he asked. I did. A LOT. Like I'd ADMIT that. "I guess." I'm very prideful and a tad bit on the grudge holding side... and stubborn, tactless... I won't go on with the REST of my endearing qualities. Anyway- he told me he loved me again and his phone was dying, then hung up. Hmph, I thought again. And OF COURSE FRIDAY he was running late. He said he'd leave Hattiesburg around 8 p.m. BUT of course it was TEN and not ONLY had he not LEFT... HE WAS TIRED! He'd have to take a nap. FABULOUS! I thought. He'll end up driving ALL night, getting here SATURDAY MORNING and then SLEEPING all DAY to catch up on driving all NIGHT and then it'll be Sunday and we'll drive home. DUMB. So while I stared at the ceiling, in a bed that isn't even an INKLING as comfy as MY bed, listening to the upstairs occupants that, according to my dad, rearrange their furniture all night long, I was annoyed. JUST irritable- like I get for no apparent reason MONTHLY. And the OTHER thing- I dreaded the ride home in the Purple Panther. In case you haven't heard, we got the air fixed. It worked for a GRAND total of THREE days. THEN we took it back to the place that was SUPPOSED to have fixed it. BY THE WAY, people who just paid 200 bucks for us to fix your air, you need a new evaporator coil... just a $1,000 fix. (OR a TWO day job of Starling doing it HIMSELF! Remember we only PAID $1500 bucks for the dang van)! The thought of riding FOUR hours in the JULY heat with two babies in the backseat was thrilling. ESPECIALLY when I could have ridden in a NICE COLD van on THURSDAY. For those of you who Don't know the history of the GLORIOUS history of the Purple Panther, it's beautiful appearance can be summed up by Jennifer Trussel's comment to Starling. When asked by Starling, "We got this van for $1500... you think its a good deal?" Jennifer glared at Starling like a cow looks at an on-coming train as she stated, "You got ripped off." I do like to give the Purple Panther credit for rescuing us in our time of need. In the Panthers defense, it got us home after having to leave our Altima in NC in the beginning of all of this mess. And THAT is why we are going to sell it to another poor family instead of dropping off a cliff somewhere.
Let us take a moment of silence for the Purple Panther. I've written a few thank you notes to the Purple Panther.(Jimmy Fallon music) Thank you, Purple Panther, for teaching me to be humble while my friends in Mercedes stare me down at red lights wondering why my windows are down in 1,010 degree heat... Thank you, Purple Panther, for teaching me how to sport the sexy Wind Blown look after taking 2 hours to straighten my hair... Thank you, Purple Panther, for reducing my pride to negative three as my friends comment "poor things" as they watch me remove my sweat drenched children from the backseat having gone a mere 5 miles down the road... Thank you, Purple Panther, for teaching me to have military-like stealth skills hiding in parking lots hoping no one sees me getting out or in... Thank you, for making me a paranoid FREAK as I could not automatically lock my doors if a mass murderer decided to hop in next to me... Thank you, for teaching me patience when I would have to crank you six times to get you to start. I may have been too prideful to drive certain vehicles in my past... but because of you, Purple Panther, I would drive a Log Truck if it had air conditioning. Having learned my lesson on humility, my Altima is to me a Lamborghini.
But anyway, I would call Starling periodically to make sure he wasn't hugging a tree somewhere and he'd NEVER answer. THEN he'd call me BACK WAY LATER and I'd be MAD yet AGAIN that he couldn't even TALK to me while he was locked in a BORING van driving ALL night. He said his phone was going dead. SERIOUSLY? Why didn't you CHARGE it while you were SLEEPING??
NEEDLESS to say, I finally fell asleep around FOUR and was in NO hurry to answer the knock on the door at SIX Saturday morning. I stumbled to the door flopping into the wall TWICE before I could get my body to stand upright, opened the door, and was back in bed under the covers before Starling even sat his stuff down. (Just a DELIGHTFUL greeting and a wonderful person I am to have as a wife). Starling crawled in next to me and muttered, "Don't rush to give me a hug or anything." I may have acknowledged that comment with a snort, but I was already dreaming again so I can't be sure.
When I woke to Brighton's cooing and Brooklyn's giggles, I was in a MUCH better mood! (Not that worse was really an OPTION). Starling got his well deserved hug and a smooch and a pat on the head. Starling asked if I'd like to take a walk. "OH YES!" exclaimed Brooklyn as she raced to the stroller. SOOO my mom, who stayed behind with us while everyone else left, the kids, and Starling and I headed on our walk through Destin. GORGEOUS. Everything here is beautiful. I yawned while Starling and my mom giddily talked about the palm trees and tried to decipher the different types. Starling has been researching palm trees because he's decided they are his tree of landscape choice. I like palm trees. I'd rather chew on a razor blade then spend any time researching a palm tree. HENCE the difference between my smart and informed husband and his flighty oblivious WIFE.
We pretended that we could have an OPINION about the beach houses. OH- THAT is the one I want! I like the color of the stucco and how it contrasts with the clay roof. And the rod iron decor! THAT is lovely. And then we'd turn our noses up at another 4 million dollar home. Oh WHAT WERE they THINKING painting it THAT color? (Knowing good and well if we could get it in our price range we'd be kissing the repulsive color all the while BEAMING to own such a fancy house). Even the sidewalks are pretty. Pretty concrete.
When I thought Brooklyn was going to slide off Starling's shoulders from all the slippery sweat, I suggested we turn back. We tried a round fruit off one of the palm trees. Starling said it was a Date. WELL... I see why its called that. At first taste, it is sweet and delicious. But the AFTER taste... Makes a girl want to VOMIT. Like buttered popcorn dipped in sweaty armpit. Luckily starling had some jolly ranchers in his pocket that we used to mask the taste. (That's my Eagle scout! Way to be prepared!)
When we got back to the apartment Starling started asking me MORE about my preference of palm trees. He said, "Come look at this palm over here. You see how its more of a pineapple bottom? Do you like that or more of a tree like stem?" I tried not to yell- I DON'T CARE about PALM TREES. I just want them PLANTED and I'll be happy. I smiled and said, "Whatever YOU think, dear." Then Starling said, "Huh... that car looks just like yours." I glanced into the parking lot. A cute little white Altima. "Yep. Sure does." As does probably half of Hattiesburg's cars. I turned to walk away and Starling started circling the car. "Man... this one is Just like it." Uh huh. BIG deal. My neighbor has one JUST like it. About two thirds of the Wal MART parking lot has ones JUST like it. Its NOT a rare find. Starling was acting WEIRD. I humored him and nodded my head while I joined him in googling over this random Altima. Wait. "THAT IS MY CAR! IS THAT MY CAR!!? YOU GOT MY CAR BACK?! HOW?! WHEN?!"
WELL. So the reason Starling was RUSHED when talking to me and his PHONE kept being DEAD is because his phone was on ROAMING and that drains a battery. APPARENTLY Starling bought a van in Philly. Bid on it on EBAY. (Yeah. The man is slow in the lesson learning department. BUT this one DOES have a clean title! And air conditioning. And power locks and windows. THAT is ALL I care about). He hopped on a plane, catching a random RIDE with our friends Brian and Stacey who just HAPPENED to be catching a flight from the same airport at the same time. He had his friend Bumpy (a chic he hiked the Appalachian Trail with) and her husband meet up with him and he went to their house with the van. I kept calling during their dinner (while they were trying to play catch up after TEN years of separation), and Starling kept feeding me some line about finishing up an offer on a house for one of his clients and then calling me back. So he took a three hour nap at their place then started the 19 hour drive home. WELL, our CAR- the ALTIMA- was STILL in North Carolina where the dealership, that was SUPPOSED to be HELPING us with our title issue, had stopped returning Starling's calls. Starling DROVE to the dealership and confronted them. (He'd given them FAIR warning! All they had to do was PROCESS some paperwork and he couldn't get them on the phone! He called EVERYDAY for THREE WEEKS. So... he told them if he didn't hear from them in the next two days he was flying up there to handle their idiodicy in person. Of course he said it nicely). The lady, Michelle, that was supposed to be handling the case, had ALL the paperwork on her desk in an envelope that had been sitting there for THREE weeks. STILL not processed. Starling threw a refined and dignified FIT, unlike one I would throw... (I'd be biting ankles and throwing punches). AND, he listed their inadequacies very nicely. "You failed to return ANY of my calls for the last three weeks robbing me of peace of mind. You lost my key with the keyless entry. You ran my battery down. I had to make a SPECIAL trip up here 13 HOURS away from MS, my THIRD trip, just to TALK to you! And you want to charge me $500 for transaction fees?" He then named names of ALL the people he'd left messages for. And then they hadn't even TURNED in the paperwork? Faced with Starling in PERSON, suddenly they were eager to assist and OH so apologetic.
Starling got everything finalized while he was there and we should receive our title in the mail in 2 to 3 weeks. Starling left the VAN in North Carolina and drove down my car. (He thought I'd be happier to see it than a van. He was RIGHT!!) So NOW we have to go get the van. He'll probably just fly up there and get it instead of us trying to make more blunderful memories out of a vacation. I didn't realize HOW long I've been without my car! I don't think Starling can count this as an anniversary gift since it counted as my birthday present last September... but maybe the van can. Anyway- ASK me HOW HAPPY I AM! Let's just say SOMEBODY isn't getting griped at this weekend. And, not to go all PG13 on ya, but he got his reward and we'll pray that breastfeeding works as good for birth control with Brighton as it did with Brooklyn.
Starling has a habit of sneaking off for glorious surprises. And I have a habit of being CLUELESS. He is a really good liar. Hmm.. Our engagement. "What are you doing?" "I'm sitting in biology." What was he really doing? Driving three straight days from Utah with the intent to marry is ex-girlfriend. (ME. I was the ex-girlfriend. Yes we were broken up when we got engaged). Every birthday party I've ever had... "I just need to stop by so-and-so's for a minute." SUrPRISE! And of course my birthday car... "We're going to a Chic Fil A opening. Bummer. We missed it. We're going to take a shuttle up into the mountains." Okay... I don't see mountains but SURE... I believe you. Oh the shuttle is your BIRTHDAY present- a white Altima like you wanted! And then this little escapade! Nuts. I hope he never meets a woman that is nice to him. If Starling decided to have an affair I'd be that clueless little wife that has no idea. I'd be mean and pissed over all the excuses for being away... but clueless.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
The Poop Monologue
Brooklyn was just taking a pooh and it reminded me of Chic Filet. I haven't fully disclosed our Chic Filet Venture and I haven't the time to do so at the moment... but I just have to record this memorable event before I wait too long and forget to do it. (So many funny stories left un-shared...).
While making one of our MANY bathroom trips from the Chic Filet Parking Lot in Slidell to the INSIDE (such a delicacy of comfort... air conditioning...) we encountered a very INTERESTING individual. We walked into the bathroom and a lady, large in stature and probably in her fifties, was making her way into a stall. Brooklyn and I took the other one. I told Brooklyn to wait a minute for me to change Brighton's diaper before I put her on the toilet.
WELL, in the MEAN time, the bathroom monologue began in the other stall. Her toilet flushed. "Ooo there goes my paper." I thought that perhaps she was trying to make conversation so I politely said, "Yeah these toilets will suck you down if you don't watch out." Seriously. They are like air plane toilets except they flush ALL by themselves.
Then the straining began. I mean strains of AGONY. "UUUUGHUUGH! OOOOH!" My eyes widened a bit. I hurriedly threw Brooklyn on the pot. "Go POTTY!" I chirped merrily trying to rush her along. Brooklyn is a quick go-pee-er and we can usually be IN and OUT. She's not a staller anymore. WELL. She peed. So I'm trying to yank her off the potty and she's yelling, "No! Mommy I'm NOT done." Then the SMELL starts.
"Man...UUUUGH... I'm trying to get it out... COME ON...." murmured Lady Go Go. 'OH MY GOSH. I'm going to DIE,' I decided. I heard the splash of her dooky hitting the water. "AAAAh...that's better..." the owner of the stench murmured. I started gagging. "ARE you DONE, BROOKLYN???" I ask her nearly turning purple from holding my breath. "Nope."
I stuck my whole face inside my t-shirt. GROSS!!! I gagged again. I, having been outside in the scorching heat, smelled like a stinky man's sweaty armpit. (Mixed with soured milk).'SICK! I HAVE to get OUT of HERE!' I thought again. I contemplated running out of the bathroom with Brighton tucked under my arm like a football and yelling for Starling to go retrieve Brooklyn. But... I figured he wouldn't go for it since she was in the GIRL's bathroom.
I glanced at Brooklyn. She was doubled over. Her face was a tomato. "MOMMY" she said through gritted teeth "I. Need. Help. It's. TOO... HARD," she strained. 'Oh FABULOUS. Now Brooklyn is going to think she needs to bathroom talk about her bowel movements, TOO!' I thought.
"Ughgh..." moaned Captain Terd. "Oooooowww..." moaned Brooklyn. "GAG GAG." ME.
Then a group of unsuspecting Chic Filet-ers entered the bathroom. "Oh my gosh! I have to pee like SOO BAD!" chirped one.
"I'm trying to finish. I'm constipated," explained Poopsie. 'You neither SOUND NOR SMELL constipated,' I contemplated yelling.
"Mommy its too hard...." Brooklyn moaned. Then a friend of the Toilet queen came in to check on her. "Are you okay?" She answered, out of breath from straining and grunting, "I just don't know if I can finish..." Her friend stately bluntly, "Well. I can't help ya there." And she split. I finally decided I'd rather Brooklyn POOP in a BUSH outside then me be in there any longer. My EYES were burning. Just as I was trying to think of a way to justify to Brooklyn that it was okay for her NOT to finish pooping in the potty she announced, "I'm all DONE."
I've never washed our hands so fast in my LIFE.
While making one of our MANY bathroom trips from the Chic Filet Parking Lot in Slidell to the INSIDE (such a delicacy of comfort... air conditioning...) we encountered a very INTERESTING individual. We walked into the bathroom and a lady, large in stature and probably in her fifties, was making her way into a stall. Brooklyn and I took the other one. I told Brooklyn to wait a minute for me to change Brighton's diaper before I put her on the toilet.
WELL, in the MEAN time, the bathroom monologue began in the other stall. Her toilet flushed. "Ooo there goes my paper." I thought that perhaps she was trying to make conversation so I politely said, "Yeah these toilets will suck you down if you don't watch out." Seriously. They are like air plane toilets except they flush ALL by themselves.
Then the straining began. I mean strains of AGONY. "UUUUGHUUGH! OOOOH!" My eyes widened a bit. I hurriedly threw Brooklyn on the pot. "Go POTTY!" I chirped merrily trying to rush her along. Brooklyn is a quick go-pee-er and we can usually be IN and OUT. She's not a staller anymore. WELL. She peed. So I'm trying to yank her off the potty and she's yelling, "No! Mommy I'm NOT done." Then the SMELL starts.
"Man...UUUUGH... I'm trying to get it out... COME ON...." murmured Lady Go Go. 'OH MY GOSH. I'm going to DIE,' I decided. I heard the splash of her dooky hitting the water. "AAAAh...that's better..." the owner of the stench murmured. I started gagging. "ARE you DONE, BROOKLYN???" I ask her nearly turning purple from holding my breath. "Nope."
I stuck my whole face inside my t-shirt. GROSS!!! I gagged again. I, having been outside in the scorching heat, smelled like a stinky man's sweaty armpit. (Mixed with soured milk).'SICK! I HAVE to get OUT of HERE!' I thought again. I contemplated running out of the bathroom with Brighton tucked under my arm like a football and yelling for Starling to go retrieve Brooklyn. But... I figured he wouldn't go for it since she was in the GIRL's bathroom.
I glanced at Brooklyn. She was doubled over. Her face was a tomato. "MOMMY" she said through gritted teeth "I. Need. Help. It's. TOO... HARD," she strained. 'Oh FABULOUS. Now Brooklyn is going to think she needs to bathroom talk about her bowel movements, TOO!' I thought.
"Ughgh..." moaned Captain Terd. "Oooooowww..." moaned Brooklyn. "GAG GAG." ME.
Then a group of unsuspecting Chic Filet-ers entered the bathroom. "Oh my gosh! I have to pee like SOO BAD!" chirped one.
"I'm trying to finish. I'm constipated," explained Poopsie. 'You neither SOUND NOR SMELL constipated,' I contemplated yelling.
"Mommy its too hard...." Brooklyn moaned. Then a friend of the Toilet queen came in to check on her. "Are you okay?" She answered, out of breath from straining and grunting, "I just don't know if I can finish..." Her friend stately bluntly, "Well. I can't help ya there." And she split. I finally decided I'd rather Brooklyn POOP in a BUSH outside then me be in there any longer. My EYES were burning. Just as I was trying to think of a way to justify to Brooklyn that it was okay for her NOT to finish pooping in the potty she announced, "I'm all DONE."
I've never washed our hands so fast in my LIFE.
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