Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Embracing My Crazy

A few weeks ago Patrick and I went to sleep watching Family Guy on Adult Swim, known to the day-time world as Cartoon Network. The next morning we hit the power button, got distracted, and didn't change the channel for a little while. We came to two realizations.
#1 Cartoon's these days are weird. 
They are nothing like they used to be. Must.....Find.....Looney Tunes DVD's.....and save them for our children.
#2 And so it begins our journey as clueless parents.
The strange looking characters were standing by a large aquarium and one of them said, "I just love animals. They make me feel so calm." This brought a question to my mind. Are fish "animals"?
From there, we did what modern day couple would do: turned to Google for an answer.
Then Patrick started spurting out a whole bunch of words I'd never heard in my life, to the point that I thought he was either making it all up, speaking a different language, or had a severe stroke. Still confused on the actual answer, we were sure about one thing: we are in big trouble when Dillon starts going to school.
To even further crush my ego, a couple of weeks ago we had a meeting with a lender to get pre-approved to buy a house (a goal we hope to meet in the next 6 months). I asked him one question and after a 15 minute long answer consisting of a plethora of facts so far over my head they might as well been in outer-space, I sent my Dad a telepathic message, thanking him for suggesting I become a nurse.
I obviously know nothing and must function in the real world by some sort of God's grace.
So, in the spirit of being clueless, or since one day my son is going to think I'm crazy anyway (because all mom's are crazy for one reason or another) and I might as well live up to it, or just because I can, I hollowed out a massive pumpkin (thanks to Nana for finding and delivering the massive squash to aid my mission) and put my baby in it.
I'm going to be completely honest; I don't think he was a fan. Actually, he was happy as a clam standing up, but after I karate chopped the back of his knees to get him squished into the clammy, slimy, weird smelling squash, he decide that wasn't exactly his idea of a good time. Cracking a smile was clearly out of the question, but at least he humored me long enough to snap a couple of non-screaming pictures after he realized he wasn't dying and definitely wasn't getting out........and then he decided to taste it, which brought on the water works again. I guess squash won't be our official first solid food to try!!!

Monday, October 27, 2014

Did I Do Something Wrong, Officer?

No one wants to end their night with the phrase, "Did I do something wrong, officer?" Nobody..........
Everyone knows Fall is one of my favorite times of year, and since I wont be getting to celebrate it this year at a Halloween party, I got my way in getting to spend our date-night evening carving pumpkins and drinking my favorite seasonal Shock Top: Honeycrisp Wheat, while Patrick serenaded our small group of friends by the candlelight on a patio in the cool autumn air, and Stuart cooked us dinner.
Let me tell you, carving pumpkins in the dark with those damn intricate paper tracings that look all cool in the Halloween books (and you think is for kids but is really for experts with way more advanced knifes than the kit supplies you with) brings on a whole new skill level, or in Allison's case no skill level (haha, where did he go, George, where did he go???).
Never having attempted more than a mere Jack-O-Lantern, I struggled with the steep learning curve, and after a couple of severed casualties, was thanking the powers that be for toothpicks to repair my mistakes........well, toothpicks and the detrimental detail that carved pumpkins are mostly admired in the dark.  I hadn't carved a pumpkin in a few years, but as soon as I made it to the middle, the distinct smell of it's guts and the ooy-gooy slimy feel brought back fond memories. I obviously forgot how vigorous an activity carving can be and was thanking Mother Nature for the cool weather when I started breaking a sweat on my second piece of art. Not only was I breaking a sweat, but I was breaking my carving tools like they were made of decades old crayons!
Held hostage by too much fun, we stayed out too late and to make matters worse, got pulled over on the way home. Clueless to what I'd done wrong, I cringed, hoping our evening of laughter wasn't about to come to an abrupt "Happy Happy Sad" moment. As it turns out, I wasn't breaking the law per say.......we unknowingly had a spadoodle......remember that game? Well it's not such a fun game when you're sitting on the side of the road with patriotic lights in your rear view mirror. Letting us off with a warning, the officer also advised us to go straight home, especially since he "smelled alcohol".
Lets be clear here, shall we? I was appreciative of the "warning", but not too naive to know the real reason he pulled me over at 2 am, and to be honest, I was a little annoyed at the insult. Of course you smell alcohol, Dummy. You came to the passenger side window.......the opposite side of where the designated driver sits. Just dare me to get out and take a test. What does 2 beers in 6.5 hours calculate out to: a punch in the face????  
The next morning, it still felt amazing outside, but by the time I had my coffee and we got out the door to admire the Dallas Arboretum Pump Patch, it was already 2 pm and toasty.What could have happened between coffee and 2 pm, you ask? I have no idea. Absolutely no clue! If I had to guess, I suppose I would blame it on the same phenomenon that keeps me from writing as often these days.
The landscaping was gorgeous, a scarecrow's dream land, with cottages and flower gardens made from pumpkins. Pumpkins of all different colors, shapes, and sizes far and wide, mixed with beautiful plants resembling the shades of fall foliage. We tried diligently to get a good picture of Dillon amongst it all, but he basically turns into a rag doll once the sun hits his face. 
"Why is everyone staring at us?" Patrick asked.
"They're not staring at us, Dear. They're staring at Dillon. Don't you know by now that we are chopped liver?" I stopped counting all the aww's and how cute's and look at his hat's. I used to get compliments on my outfits or my tattoos, but now I just get compliments on my baby.......which I can only take half credit for. 
It wasn't until we were all tuckered out and ready to leave that my Mom realized she couldn't find her phone. Convinced she last had it in the pumpkin patch, we rushed back to the most crowded section of the entire park to shuffle through hay and filter through distracted bodies in a frenzy to locate her precious life line. Convinced we'd perfectly retraced our steps, but still empty handed, things were looking grim. And that's when we heard Patrick yelling from the sidewalk.
"Hey dummies!!! I found it in the stroller!"
WHEW! One weekend. Two close calls. Three tired adults and one sleep baby. That's a wrap. 

Monday, October 6, 2014

It's Not My Fault: My Baby Ate My Brain

Oh boy. If you're currently pregnant and looking for your brain at the end of the pregnancy tunnel, I have bad news for you..........your baby already ate your brain through the umbilical cord like it was a milkshake through a straw and you'll never get it back. People have always warned me that I'll never be as smart as I was before I got pregnant, and it is oh so true.
Let me just give a run down of a few dumb things I did this week. 
Sometimes the boy is just in a crab of a mood. As I realize we humans aren't all peaches 100% of the time, I tired to just accept that Tuesday was his day, but it was hard. He cried every time I tried to put him a down for a second, literally, which made every aspect of life 10 times more hectic and difficult. In the chaotic blur of getting Patrick's and Dillon's gear packed for swim lessons, half of Dillon's accumulative belongings together and in the car for his first day of new child care, my things for work, eat, pump, and squeeze in a shower (all with him screaming at me), I was lucky to even find my way out the back door. It wasn't until I walked into the hospital that I realized I didn't have my very important backpack harboring my very important work badge (that I purposefully placed in my back pack so I wouldn't get to work without it). My perfect photogenic memory informed me the bag was laying on the dining room floor, lonely and scared, surrounded by the disaster of a home I'd left for Patrick to put back together. I had to call my hero of a husband and have him drive back across town to bring it to me. #fail
Thursday was going to be a new story!
Sing with me: It's a new dawn! It's a new day! And I'm feeling good like I really got my shit together!
I was on the ball with a happy baby, a motivated me, and a mission to do better. I did all the dishes, took the puppies on a walk, read Dillon a few books, got my things together and wardrobe laid out for work without turning the house upside down, took a shower, convinced Dillon to take 2 naps in his pack-n-play for the first time ever, managed to squeeze in a 30 minute nap of my own......things were looking up. I even got us out of the house in time to see Jessica for her Dirty Thirty happy hour........but just before we left, something snapped.
I was pumping and overflowed a bottle. Covered in milk, my initial mild distress was worsened to moderate by the realization that I was also covered in baby stool. There was poo puddled on the couch (thank goodness it's leather), soaked through Dillon's onsie from his diaper up to his neck, and saturated through my yoga pants. After we were put back together in working order, I started to load the car in a monsoon. A severe thunderstorm rushed in out of the clear blue sky just as I needed to leave!!! One trip and I was completely drenched; water dripping from my hair, I looked like I had just jumped into a pool fully clothed (I really did do that once). I quickly snagged my rain coat from the coat closet (wait for it), and braved the storm once more to put Dillon in the car.
Patrick met me at Chuy's to get Dillon and wish Jess a happy birthday. As he was leaving he said, "Do you need anything from the diaper bag?"
"Yes!! I need my wallet."
"Is that all?"
 I nodded yes.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. I have everything in the car." That should have been my hint. The car. But I no longer have a brain, so it slipped right past me until I actually needed to leave.
That's right, you guessed it. My keys were in the diaper bag. I called Patrick, begging for mercy and forgiveness. You'd think I'd been on my toes (with all I've put him through in that last two days) when he drove back to drop them off, but I wasn't. I missed his call and he had to resort to calling other people to get my attention.
When I finally was able to leave the restaurant, I realized as soon as I got to work that I had forgot to pay for my tea, so I had to call the birthday girl and ask her if she'd spot me. #epicfail
And what you've been waiting for? Well.........when Patrick got home he sent me a text. "Weirdest thing. When I got home I couldn't find Callie. She was locked in the coat closet behind the pack-n-play."
YES.
He had no idea that I'd had my rain coat. As a matter of fact, the storm that caused me so much grief was blowing and going so fast, it was gone just as fast as it came. It was nothing but sunny skies on the side of town he'd met me at and he'd wondered why I was wet. But Callie is terrified of storms and must have sneaked in the closet during the 3 seconds I had the door open and spent the next 2 hours in a dark hole patiently waiting to be rescued. #legendaryfail
Two days later I was left the house without remembering to insert any nursing pads after getting dressed. I realized it in the car and frantically searched for anything absorbent to stuff in my bra before the entire city noticed my light grey shirt turn dark grey over two very distinct landmarks of the female body. Luckily I found exactly two cheapo fast food napkins. #closecallbutstillafail
(source)
So there you have it. I'm off my rocker with a capitol R..........or O.......I'm not sure, because like I said, I might as well be the scare crow from the Wizard of Oz.


Wednesday, October 1, 2014

Love So High We Can Fly

Once upon a time, when he was still in training, I sent Patrick out for limes, and he can back with green rocks in disguise as the citrus juice bearing fruit.
"What the hell is this? You paid for these?!?! A 10 ton road roller wouldn't even be able to squeeze anything but pulp dust out of these sorry excuses for limes!" I tried not to yell, but was in complete disbelief.
"I thought you always pick out the hardest fruit. Isn't that why you squeeze everything, to check?" Question marks were all over his face. Needless to say, I just had to mix my margarita a little big stronger that day, and laugh at the ridiculous ordeal. 
Years later, he knows what produce is suppose to be firm vs. soft, he's way better about just telling people, "no" instead of trying to please everyone and as a result is no longer a flake, he's competent in  the task of separating laundry, he's way more efficient about communicating to the waitstaff at restaurants to get what he pays for, and he's the best new Daddy ever!!!!!
But he's still a (tall dark and handsome) chicken.
And here I am, exactly the same. The bossy as ever, cover stealing, messy house dweller, side seat driving, forgetful, but loving wife to the most wonderful husband a girl could ever ask for.
6 years ago on Saturday, we were united under the eyes of God, and to celebrate, I wanted to go sky diving. But since (for some crazy reason), Patrick was scared that jumping out of a plane may end one or both of our lives, I (being the amazing wife that I am) decided to compromise (because that's what a healthy long lasting relationship is all about), and pretended to sky dive in a indoor wind tunnel at iFly.
What an experience!!!
We donned our body suits that reeked of other peoples sweat (because what's more romantic than that?), plugged up our ears with orange foam (besides, what couple needs to talk to each other, anyway, after over 8 years of togetherness?), strapped on foggy eye gear, buckled into helmets (just in case we forgot how to use our hands and stopped a wall we couldn't see with our faces), and jumped into the middle of a hurricane (which was similar to driving 200 miles per hour down the highway and sticking your head out the window).
An instructor stayed in the tunnel to make sure we didn't somehow get ourselves killed help us stay afloat and to signal commands, and at the end of our second flights, he grabbed ahold of our suits, taking us high and low into the tunnel, spinning us in circles. My mouth was fixated in a gaping grin, with spit mercilessly escaping beyond the threshold of my lips. Each flight lasted a little over a minute, but with all the work involved, it felt more like five.......probably because we are both shamelessly out of shape right now! I'm even not going to deny the fact that I had some sore spots the next day.
When the flying escapade was all over, we crashed Ally and Stuart's house to introduce them to Dillon, watch the Baylor football game, and devour the amazing anniversary dinner Stuart had slaved over all day.
Even though we didn't actually jump out of a plane, I had the best time with my best friend with the best benefits (sharing a life together), and I look forward to at least 60 more years of adventures with my one and only love (especially since he's already trained and knows the difference between a lime and a rock).

 

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