I Don’t Think You’re Ready For This Jelly November 30, 2008

Ironically, after writing that post yesterday, I spent most of the remainder of the day in bed with a truly miserable migraine. I had a much worse one last week… so bad that I had the whole vision loss and vomiting-from-the-horrible-pain thing going on. And yet I still had to spend the day listening to the cable guys drill holes in my house (and my BRAIN, I’m pretty sure) and then go ‘do door’ at one of Joey’s basketball games, and then go eat with the team until after eleven at night. Oh, the travails of being a coachs’ wife! Woe is me!

So I totally took the opportunity yesterday to have a migraine AND do absolutely nothing. Because it might be a lousy way to spend a vacation day, but it beats having a migraine and, say, teaching middle school all day long! Seriously, the most useful thing I did all day was stick some taquitos in the oven for our lunch. And pronounced them ta-KEY-toes. Because apparently my mother raised me to pronounce them wrong, and I have sounded like a doofus, going around saying ta-KWI-toes for the past 24 years. Fortunately, I have Joey to help me out with these things. And to laugh hysterically and gasp, “Do you say ‘I got bit by a mos-KWI-toe’ too?”

It might hurt my feelings, if it came from anyone other than the man who thought jams and jellys were called ‘preservatives’. As in this conversation from last night:

Joey: “Lets stop by Wal-Mart so I can get some bacon and preservatives.”

Lucy: “What? Preservatives? Huh?”

Joey: “Yeah, like strawberry jelly or plum jam… which one do you want?”

Lucy: “I don’t care-no, strawberry jelly sounds good. But you mean PRESERVES.”

Joey: “Preserves, preservatives… what’s the difference?”

Lucy: “Preservatives are like, chemicals they put in food to make it last a long time. Preserves are preserved fruits and berries.”

Joey: “Preserves.”

Lucy: “Right.”

Joey: “Also, it could be a branch of the military. Like, ‘I serve my country.’ ‘Oh, what branch?’ ‘The Preserves.’”

Lucy: “Saving the world, one jar of jelly at a time.”

Joey: “AND there is also the Reservatives.”

Lucy: “I hear they’re tougher than the Marines!”

Ariel: “18 more years of this AND I’m inheriting genes from these people?? Kick! Smash! Rawr!”

 

 

And that is Saturday night in my world. That, and eating bacon and eggs and toast in bed while watching Lost until two in the morning. Neither of us ever followed it, so we’re having a lot of fun getting caught up together. In spite of my general feelings of, WHAT THE HECK? STOP KILLING PEOPLE OFF!!

We’re nearly done with Season 3, which, the Blockbuster guy told us last night, is great timing. Because Season 4 is coming out in a few days, and thank goodness, because I don’t know what I would do without some more Lost to watch, I really don’t.

 

And now it is time to pay up for my day of sloth and indolence. It is Sunday, and tomorrow will begin the last two weeks of school before Christmas Break. So in addition to wrapping up some stuff around the house, we need to head up to the school and work on lesson plans and decorate our classrooms for Christmas and things like that. And thanks to the miracle of Tylenol and being incredibly lazy for 24 hours or so, I think I’m up for it! I feel the urge to make a list. And another list! Pull the thing! And-that other thing! No more rhymes now, I mean it!”

 

You get points for being cool if you can finish that (sort of) quote. Go ahead! It’s easy! Or maybe I’m just a really big dork!

Time Zones November 29, 2008

We have really devoted this break to getting our new house “put together”…. which I thought might prooooobably be secret married-people code for “mind numbing torture.” But it isn’t! We have been having so much fun!

 

A lot of this probably has to do with the fact that we are finally starting to get each other’s internal clocks. Because they are VERY DIFFERENT, and have led to many, many arguments in the past two years.  Joey is one of those night owl people who, if left to his own devices, would probably stay up until four A.M. or so, and then sleep until two in the afternoon. Just thinking about this schedule gives me a headache. He also does not like the process of waking up, no matter how long he has slept. He does not like it on a train, he does not like it in the rain. HE DOES NOT LIKE IT! Joey needs several warnings before he is forced to get up, and then a minimum of an hour before his pleasant Joey personality joins us.

 

I, on the other hand, am a morning person. Even though this past week has been a school break, I’ve been getting up without an alarm, around six every morning. Because I wake up! And then I might as well get up! And then I might as well DO STUFF! Part of this is my natural personality, part of it is the fact that around six A.M. it is very, very likely that either McLovin or I will be in desperate need of a potty break. But I have always loved mornings, and when I open my eyes, I am AWAKE. I hit snooze because alarms are rude, and they seem so bossy that people ought to ignore them. Like “mandatory fun” (how I hated that phrase in college!!!) or “required reading”. But this is because I am stubborn and obstinant, not sleepy. Although, once four in the afternoon hits, I am usually fantasizing about a nap. I love naps.

 

Out of self-preservation and love, Joey and I have limited our interaction with each other in the mornings. I get up at 5:30 on school days, get ready, and wake him up (several times) at 6:15. He rolls out of bed, stumbles around for a few minutes, and then we leave in silence. He drops me off at our school, where I eat breakfast and then do all of my grading and planning and cleaning and copying in early-morning, no-one-is-here-to-bother-me bliss. I LOVE my mornings. And Joey goes to class, where I assume he wakes up about halfway through lecture, then stops back home to change clothes and clean up before coming to school for the day. And sometimes if I’m really nice, I have microwaved some breakfast burritos for him. And sometimes if he is really nice, he brings me coffee from McDonalds. And we touch base about our days and our students, and all is happy in Newlywed Land.

 

The few times we have deviated too much from this routine, you hear a lot of “I never knew you were such a JERK” and “Why are you being so annoying? Leave me alone! It’s EARLY!!”

We find that it is best to respect the routine.

 

Weekends and school holidays have been more of a problem, and we would get VERY annoyed with each other. But this Thanksgiving break, we have been working this whole nocturnal/diurnal dilemma. I get up early and take care of the puppy, and work on my house-y projects all morning, and blog. He wakes up around eleven, gets up around noon with personality in place, and we eat breakfast/lunch. We run errands and work on joint projects until around three, when I get tired and take a nap. Then he keeps working and fantasy sportsing until around five, when I get up and we have dinner and spend time together. Then I’m usually ready for a bath (and in the case of last night, a heavenly massage!) and bed around ten, and Joey is kicked into high gear and works on his projects until one in the morning or so.

 

It has been so nice! It does not an interesting blog post make, but I’m enjoying how we aren’t making each other crazy over all of these home-imrovement projects and free time.

 

And in a somewhat sleep-related segue, my ribs hurt so bad night before last that I woke up CONVINCED that the baby had somehow gotten her head stuck between two of them. I’m not very logical at three in the morning. Or very caring either, apparently. Since I rolled over and went back to sleep.

Highlights of Thanksgiving November 28, 2008

In bullet point form, because I am weak with that turkey chemical that makes you all sleepy and languid.

• Getting up at 5:00 AM for NO REASON AT ALL and getting an insane amount of nesting-type stuff done.

 

• Making those “special” and “different” sweet potatoes (that are sweet!) and feeling soooo proud of myself. Until I realized that they were hopelessly ruined, for reasons unknown.

 

• Not crying even a little big over the stupid potatoes. Making a valiant effort to salvage them, but deciding that it would be kinder to come empty-handed than to force people to politely choke them down.

 

• Being an hour late because Joey decided he was tired of showing up on time and being forced to wait for everyone else. Only, we were THE LAST ONES THERE and they started without us. But mostly I put aside my terrible need to be on time for EVERYTHING, because hey, it’s his family. As long as they don’t think I made him late with sad failed attempts at cooking, then no big deal. Right??

 

• I seriously hate being late.

 

• But I looked cute, at least.

 

• Delicious food cooked by competent adults… a nice change from how Thanksgiving would be if I ran it!

 

• A shocking amount of naughty words and off-color jokes for such a seemingly upstanding group.

 

• Laughing entirely too hard for my poor, pushed-out ribs to handle.

 

• Sharing a chair with Joey the whole time and snuggling.

 

• Having the encouraging point made many, many, many  times that “parenting skills” are a joke! Ha ha! And children will pop out just how they are, and that’s that, missy!

 

• Sidestepping any debate on childhood development and ed psych by stating that I won’t need any parenting skills… Ariel will be naturally perfect just like me.

 

• Being assured by a 97 year-old relative that I shouldn’t worry, the baby has a good chance of taking after my side and not these hooligans. At least, I THINK she said hooligans. Something to that effect.

 

• Hearing spirited debate over who did or did not ‘poot’. I believe this was around the time of the hooligans comment.

 

• Going home and taking a nap while my darling husband finished putting together the dresser. And installed the new towel rack and toilet paper holder in the bathroom. Because he is awesome, even though he put the toilet paper holder at a very bizarre angle.

 

• Kicking off the Christmas season (because you CAN NOW, people. You WAIT until Thanksgiving is over, and THEN DO CHRISTMASY STUFF!!!) by going to see Four Christmases with Joey. My date was super cute. The movie… meh. It wasn’t really a Christmas movie… or a good movie… the best I can say is it had some gratuitously adorable babies in it, and a few funny lines. But it wasn’t even really a wait-for-DVD-movie.

 

• Twisting around in agony during two thirds of the movie because MY RIBS! OUCH! AM NOT PROPORTIONED FOR CHILDBEARING!

 

• Thinking ahead a few weeks to Christmas Break plans!!

 

• Coming home to find that McLovin (who can hold it all night, as long as Joey goes to bed late and I get up very early) had irrigated her kennel during the two hours we were gone. Including the fleecy poofy dog bed that she LOVES and that I had just washed. So its back in the washer, and she’s currently feeling very sorry for herself… so excited that we came back home, only to get a spanking and a lecture, be put BACK in the kennel in disgrace, and to top it off – no bed, just that wimpy blanket. If I knew where my camera was, I would put the world’s SADDEST picture of HORRIBLY ABUSED beagle puppy on here. She is currently shivering pitifully and imploring me with her eyes to just spare one farthing so she can buy a lump of coal to warm this miserable night. JUST ONE? PLEASE? HAVE A ‘ART, KIND LADY?

 

• But I have no heart. Am made of ICE. Will totally be arguing that she feels properly chastised and is very sorry and will never, ever do it again, in about five minutes, with the Alpha Dog of the family.

 

• And that is Thanksgiving.

What I Am Thankful For… November 27, 2008

I think that, with the obsessive organizing and cleaning and OMG everything has to be scrubbed or replaced or painted STAT! we can safely say that I’m nesting. I think this is a little further than I would usually take things. Which is good, because it just makes sense to scrub, replace, or paint everything now, before Ariel gets here. The real beauty of it, though? Is the fact that my husand is nesty right there with me!

 

I mentioned this to Kanga the other day, and she nodded. “It’s my fault. I always had him doing projects with me when he was little.” I don’t know about fault, but I will totally give her credit for it. She is the most crafty, thrifty, artsy woman that has ever lived.

 

And it is thanks to her that I have a husband who pulled into the driveway yesterday and said, “I love having a house. What do you want to get done on it today, babe?” And then hung curtains, lifted sundry heavy things for me, re-arranged the furniture in the family room no less than four times because I wouldn’t  be satisfied with it, and promised to get up bright and early today to assemble our new dresser from IKEA.

Kanga came over the other day to show him how to install a new light fixture in the bathroom (the old one defies description. Or sanity.) and now that he knows how, he’s going to replace the one in the dining room, too. Even though he thinks the chandelier that I picked out at IKEA (This blog post brought to you by IKEA! Apparently.) is ugly and cheap-looking. I maintain that it is pretty, and costs $40, which makes it look perfectly fine until the day when I can afford to buy one of those $200 chandeliers at the boutique down the road.

And he breaks out the leaf blower and the hedge trimmer while insisting that I take a nap.

And he is hot.

And he tells me at random intervals throughout the day that I am beautiful or adorable, or some variation thereof. When in reality I am being whiny and/or bratty, and have not bothered to brush my hair all day.

 

You could safely say that I am thankful for my husband. I hope I am thankful for every minute of time that we have together, because each one is a gift.

 

And now I must go clean out my kitchen again. Because we got the family room COMPLETELY DONE* last night, at the expense of several kitchen counters, and I need to be able to find my way around so I can cook my offering of sweet potatoes for today’s family meal at Gran’s. And please rid your mind of all yammy, marshmallow-y images. My sweet potatoes are different. Or as my adored husband put it, “Oh, yeah, those potatoes. They were sweet.” We have had no end of jokes from this (because we don’t get out much!) about potatoes! That are strangely sweet! And also orange! Now I’ve seen EVERYTHING!

 Which is probably what the Pilgrims said on the first Thanksgiving, right? I thought so.

 

 

Happy Thanksgiving!

*Except hanging pictures and such, the curtains for one window, putting the DVDs away, getting Joey’s Big Daddy TV repaired and set up, cleaning the carpet (that has already been professionally cleaned, but obviously, if you want something done right…), getting the fireplace looked at and working, and collapsing into a quivering heap of gelatinous ooze because dear sweet Lord, it will NEVER END!!

Oh Yeah, I’m Pregnant (How Do I Keep Forgetting That?) November 26, 2008

This morning (yesterday morning?)  we had another midwife appointment… one with the blood glucose screening or whatever that is where they make you drink what is apparently the syrup part of orange soda and then steal your preshus blood.

 

I. Do not. LIKE. Needles.

 

But I totally  sucked it up today. Am a big girl, after all.

 

And then I crashed as soon as we got home, which is why I’m wide awake NOW. But I was so annoyed! Because I? Am dumb. And bad at being pregnant.

Remember  that whole emergency trip to the midwifea while ago? And how it was NOTHING, and everything was FINE and I felt all silly? I took that experience very much to heart, because I hate drama and I hate feeling silly. And so I spent a few days last week ignoring what were apparently multiple symptoms of freaking pre-term labor, because God forbid I make a scene and feel silly. I was blithely relating to the midwife how everything was great! I feel great! I’m sure glad that the baby moved out of that weirdo position she was in for a few days last week, cause it kind of hurt a lot! And felt like she was going to fall out when I walked upright! Back pain? Sure, but only for a month or so! No big! Because I don’t freak out! I am level-headed, baby!

 

Ahem.

 

Fortunately, my cervix is still closed, just softening. I’m supposed to not exercise anymore, which is funny, because I haven’t been exercising AT ALL and also because usually I get a big Midwifey Lecture about the importance of an active pregnancy. She started asking me about “working full time” and “needing rest if this happens again” but I headed her off with Christmas Break! It will be here soon and I will totally rest then! Because so help me, if people start talking bed rest when there is still work to be done and young’uns to be learned, my head will explode. The End.

 

In other weird pregnancy news, I had officially gained one pound, but I lost it. I’m calculating this by my pre-pregnancy weight, which granted, had some extra chub. Which I lost entirely through the miraculous diet known as the First Trimester of Doom. So I am now back to what I weighed before I was pregnant, although it is proportioned very differently, and I’m still wearing regular old jeans even though I’m six months along. Am weird. I read today that the average woman gains 11 pounds during the third trimester. So if I miraculously started gaining weight like an average woman, I will have gained….11 pounds during my whole pregnancy. And this makes me think I should probably eat something! Only, there is no ROOM for food in there. There is no room for other silly things, such as my ribcage or lungs either! Only room for Ariel, with her strangely long leg bones and wooshy-woosh-woosh heartbeat.

 

Ariel, who is currently winning the world’s longest running game of hide-and-seek. I knew early on that she was very active, what with feeling her kicking even though the midwife said I wasn’t, and the way people had to chase her around my stomach with Doppler or sonogram wands. Joey got to feel her move pretty early on, but then she found a fun new game! We call it Kick Like a Rabid Squirrel In a Bag Until Someone Else Tries To Feel, Then Freeze! The grandmothers are not amused. I can lay my own hands on my stomach, and feel her just fine, but the instant anyone else touches me, she stops. Every. Single. Time. The rare occasions where I have a hard time falling asleep because of baby activity, I just put Joey’s hand on my stomach and voila!

 

The only family member who seems exempt from this game is McLovin. Who was innocently snoozing on my tummy, minding her own business, when her floppy little head got shoved from within, pretty hard. She deserved it, though. Just ask Maya.

The Saga Continues November 25, 2008

Okay, again, not dead. But we are all MOVED people. Into a HOUSE. We spend our time now doing things like replacing all the handles on the kitchen cabinets and painting miles and miles of trim. Although, do not be fooled. ‘Moved’ is a word which here means ‘forcibly and abruptly relocated with very poor planning and absolutely no organization.’ It bears NO relation whatsoever to the word ‘unpacked’. Two weekends ago we woke up on a Saturday morning and had absolutely not one teeny-tiny little thing packed up in our apartment. And by Sunday afternoon we had moved every last one of our posessions and cleaned the apartment very thoroughly. I know. Why do I do this to myself? I was totally blogging it in my head the whole time so I wouldn’t start beating myself over the head with a frying pan. Which of course, is doomed to that Saved Draft Archive of my brain, since our computer stayed imprisoned in a high impenetrable fortress of random junk for two weeks since. This completely lame blog revived thanks to Joey, who rescued the computer and set it up on a desk all pretty-like. And more grudgingly, thanks to the Time Warner Cable guys. Since the sweet, sweet Internets are back in my life once more, even though it took you SEVEN HOURS and you left a cable dangling strangely against the outside of my house.

More importantly, though! It is our Thanksgiving Break right now, and we have a blessedly long break which we are devoting to nesting. Yesterday? We spent a lot of time at IKEA together? And did not argue even a little bit. I know. We almost got kicked out of IKEA for annoying all of the normal people with our “holding hands” and “flirting”.

Also more importantly! Last Friday Joey woke up and was stricken by OMG We Are Grown-Ups With A House And All. To celebrate the complete upheaval and chaos of the stupid, stupid way we chose to move, the fact that we have a BABY coming in three months, and…I don’t know what else, those two sound like enough to me, he decreed that we must now have a dog. I kind of thought he was joking until we were driving out to the middle of nowhere to look at puppies on some farm (which did not exist, actually, even though it was TOTALLY there when he got a dog in 7th grade) but he was NOT. And then I got on board the puppy train, because lately I have been feeling really freaked out about this whole impending motherhood deal, and I realized that I need to stop whining and worrying and just say BRING IT ON, chaos. Because no, I will never have my life perfectly calm and ordered and drama-free. And also because PUPPY! Yum! Squish!

Her name is McLovin (ha ha, no it isn’t, not even close, but that would be awesome, and she is for sure cool enough to have a blog alias) and she is the most cutest beagle puppy in the history of time, and I will put up pictures as soon as we unearth the camera. Currently she is eating a pair of my underwear from the clean laundry mountain (don’t ask. I couldn’t just unpack the clothes. No. I had to wash ALL of them and then sort them and then organize the closets by season, and… nesting is not for sissies.) and I am letting her, because the lace on those underwear was uncomfortable and I was going to toss them anyhow, and better them than any of Joey’s Mysterious Electronic Cable-y Things.

And now I have to go convince myself to do productive things, and not hide in bed with Eclipse to take my mind off the fact that I can’t eat anything because of stupid glucose screening test thing. And how perfect is my timing, by the way? I’ve gone all this time only vaguely aware of the existence of the Twilight series and how it is supposed to be so wonderful. And I finally and randomly pick up the first book and fall madly in love the day before the movie comes out. Joey took me to see the movie in one of those “Only because I love you” gestures, and ended up becoming very into the plot and somehow guessing about things that don’t happen until the second book. Although he did say that Edward looked like a mime.