Wednesday, December 4, 2013
At the end of December our family is going to go visit some of our "besties" in DC. Yeah, yeah, December in DC does not excite me, since I am firmly entrenched as a Southern California girl. Also, my husband asked for ideas from people on his Facebook site as to where we should go for our 10 year anniversary. I threatened people who left remarks about Northern or (in general) COLD states for vacation destinations. Therefore, we are going to DC in the middle of winter, yay.
To make it even more exciting, I sprained 3 ligaments in my ankle in October by stepping off of a chair. Yes, stepping down. There may have been a small pile of cords on the floor, that I may or may not have stepped on successfully. To hear Little Dude explain my situation to doctors, I was viciously attacked my a 30 foot cord monster and broke my leg. Unfortunately, his story is incorrect. I stepped off the chair and landed wrong on my left ankle. It did hurt badly enough to warrant an ER trip; I thought I broke something. X rays and torture aside, I was advised to use crutches and stay off my foot.
A month goes by and I ditch the crutches and convince myself that I'm fine. (For those wondering, yes this did include me trying to walk my 2-3 miles a day. I was unsuccessful).
After my follow-up appointment with another doctor the conversation about not using crutches didn't end well for me. Now I'm in a walking boot, which I admit is much easier on the armpits and knees. However it is really making warm toes and the thought of buying new shoes, difficult. I was due for new running shoes, but they have been put on hold since my alignment is off, so-to-speak.
Here is part of my dilemma. I'm going to travel to a cold place with a walking boot. There will likely be rain, snow, or some ungodly mixture of both. How do I keep my poor Southern California toes warm AND dry?
Next issue is, my husband and I plan on celebrating our 10 year anniversary, so I assume there will be nice clothing worn. I can't wear heels because then my boot would be unbalanced. I can't wear heels without the walking boot either, because that is some awful amount of pain. (I tried it for a wedding in October - it ended with me wearing sensible flats.) My question is, do I pack both shoes or just the right-sided ones?
Serious answers please! My husband mentioned something about having more packing space. He also mentioned something about me taking it easy so I wouldn't need to USE the boot. (That last comment made it seem like we haven't been married for 10 years, however he knows me better than most.)
I would love suggestions! You may even offer unhelpful, but ultimately funny ones; my husband will appreciate the humor.
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
I really can't remember how it started, but I do remember the embarrassing points of the last one. Therefore, I thought I would share.
It all started with me saying, "I'm not THAT crazy!'"
My husband (Military Dad) responded by saying: How do you define THAT crazy?
Me: There are levels.
MD: How many levels?
MD: So, is this an arbitrary number or did you take your time and consider this?
MD: So is 1 crazy or is 5?
Me: Level 1 is fun at a party.
MD: You've thought this out. I'm intrigued, please continue.
Level 1 - Fun at a party, but nothing really "wrong" with your mind
Level 2 - You have some OCDs but they don't control your life
Level 3 -Your OCDs may require medication, but otherwise you are functional.
Level 4 - You need medication on a daily basis to function
Level 5 - You are hospitalized
MD: Wow, so....what level are you?
MD: Two Point Three?
Me: Yes, 2.3. I have some OCDs that don't control my life, but some days they can interfere.
MD: Wow, I would have put you at a 1.
Me: You're so sweet!
MD: What level am I?
MD: How am I a 1.8? I'm not fun at a party!
Me: (After considering that this is the only thing he has a problem with, I go with it.) You make fun of yourself.
MD: Yes, but that's not fun at a party level.
Me: I have an apron hidden in the cupboard that has a hairy chested man behind a sheep with an tongue ring that proves otherwise. (This was given to him as a result of Military Dad making fun of himself. His friends thought it would be a blast to give him a sheep fornication apron.)
MD: So....next conversation....
(After reflecting on this conversation I'm thinking that I may need to downgrade my level a little.)
Me: You want to ask, how did I come up with this scale?
MD: A little
Me: I wanted to establish a set of guidelines where I knew I was okay and what point I needed to seek help.
For my friends out there, please don't ask me what level you are. Yes, I have assigned everyone levels, but that's a part of my problem, not yours. That's where the 0.3 comes in on my crazy scale.
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
As I sit here, I am currently listening to my cat clean up a mess she made. I am blessed with a cat who eats so fast, her stomach actually forces it back out. Kind of, "Wow, that's a lot of food all at once. Why don't we try that again in slow motion."
So after binging, then hoarking her kibble, she is now methodically eating it again. I've gotten over many things that would make a normal person squeamish, however I'm still a sympathetic puker. Yes, even with animals. Only when I was pregnant did I actually throw up. Now I just dry heave a little; things are looking up!
Not that all this isn't disgusting enough, she has now re-eaten her fill and left the area. Cue dog...yep, here she comes, right on time.
There is no more methodical eating, just one big disgusting, bile-raising, slurp. Quick. Efficient. Done. (Insert dry heave)
This raises a couple, thought provoking questions.
1. Why won't the damn cat slow down? Seriously, almost every night we go through this binge, hoark, eat routine. Yuck! (Yes, we've tried feeding her less, but more often. We've even put obstacles in her food dish - doesn't seem to slow her down at all.)
2a. Why does the cat eat her own puke?
It's disgusting on so many levels. When humans hoark, we usually figure out that something went wrong between the eating and the digesting posts. After we finally quit reversing natural physiology, we go lie down somewhere to wallow in self-pity.
2b. This is somewhat the same question. Why do dogs eat nasty stuff? Trash, tissue paper, diapers, anything rotting, the list goes on.
They have super noses, so they should be able to figure out, by smell alone, that they are about to eat something normally considered inedible. Unless their super noses can pick up on subtle nuances that we can't?!
Most days I'm happy when I can actually smell or taste the things I'm supposed to taste when drinking wine. I always thought having a nose capable of picking up the things a dog can smell would be extremely helpful; now I'm not so sure. Anything that may lead me down the road to eating my own puke doesn't seem like a good thing...and that's just a cat's nose. A dog's nose would evidently make someone else's vomit a delicacy. No thank you.
Monday, September 16, 2013
If you have children, it doesn't matter how many, you deal with this word on a rather consistent basis. You also think you are the only one that suffers, but then when it finally gets to where you think you are dying, you make that embarrassing doctor's appointment. You are so ashamed you whisper your affliction on the phone to the receptionist.
When it is finally time for your appointment, you walk in, head hung in shame because you feel diseased in a way. When the nurse calls your name, you have hit your low point and you question whether you can just walk out and not deal with it for another few weeks. You decide you have to deal with it sooner or later so you walk past the waiting room door so the nurse can take your vitals.
Once you reach the inner sanctum, the nurse turns to you and begins the embarrassing questions part: how long, how bad, etc. You answer in a hushed shame. Then something weird happens, you are transported to a different world, (if you have a female nurse that has kids). The nurse begins to tell you how awful she had them and how often she gets them.....wah?
Then the doctor comes in and explains how she gets them all the time too....wah? I have a wonderful doctor who likes to explain in details, so at a point I become uncomfortable again, but I do find comfort that I'm not the only one.
What I come to find out, is that once you have a child, this becomes rather a regular problem. No one speaks of it, so everyone thinks they are the only one. My issue is WHY? Why does this happen all of a sudden after having a kid?
My first thought was because everything gets stretched, torn, and all sorts of awful things that are considered "natural." However, I had two cesareans, so on the stretching/tearing aspect, I got off pretty easy, so that rules that out for some people.
It can't be hormones, because I think after your first child (definitely after your second), your hormones stop saying, "Hey! Let's have kids!" Now they are saying, "Sleep woman!" or if your husband gives you that look, "Don't even think about it buddy!"
I came to the realization yesterday, that I think it is mostly time. Yes, that wonderful concept that as a mother, you don't really have any left, or to yourself. If you are a stay-home mom, your world is compressed into timed segments of where and when your kids have to be, homework, dinner, baths and bedtime. I'm ashamed to admit this, but I think my kids get more showers/baths than I do, in a given week. (When my husband isn't deployed, I come out ahead, or at least even, with the kids.) If you have a career, your time is compressed into spending the few hours left during the week into homework, dinner and bedtime.
Also, for some strange reason, when a dad goes to the bathroom, he is LEFT ALONE. What the...? Why?
The kids can be on a different floor than I am; they could even be sleeping or watching a movie. It's like they have this switch, "hey, mom went into the bathroom, let's go check on her." I don't even have to be using the restroom, I could be cleaning it (ha ha!) and they come find me.
Even if you lock and barricade the door, they find away to bother you. Constant knocking, or the ever-creepy fingers-under-the-door trick, when you just want a minute of peace. So unlike a dad who gets 20-30 minutes of peace (they can read chapter books!), moms get: strange conversations/questions, knocking, fingers under the door (or objects), barging in (forgot to lock the door), crying, kids fighting, stuff breaking, etc...
I tried to "bother" the kids while they go to the bathroom, hoping to teach them respect and privacy...that didn't go well. They actually enjoyed the company, I think. Therefore, I think I may start a new bathroom policy when Military Dad comes home. For every minute, I'm bothered in the bathroom, the kids will be required to bother him in the bathroom! Either, MD will help enforce a "don't bother mom" code, or I won't be the only person in the house with the H word.
Sunday, August 18, 2013
If you've been keeping up with my sporadic posts, my family participates in a CSA (Community Supported Agriculture). We get a weekly shipment of fruits, veggies or herbs that are fresh and organic. Yes, I get a lot of Swiss chard that I still don't have a clue how to use (most of it ends up in my vegetable broth recipe). However, most of the time I get the best strawberries, huge avocados, spinach that tastes SO much better than the store kind, and last week I got a huge bundle of basil!
The only issue we have had with joining a CSA is what do I do with this stuff when I get home? The fruit, snap peas or grape tomatoes barely make it home from pick-up, so that leaves lettuce and other veggies/herbs. Yes, salads and veggie sides are a huge part of the week's menu, but fortunately that is changing.
Every year, our CSA (JR Organics) has farm tours complete with customer appreciation lunches. While it was great to visit the farm with the kids, I do have an Animal Science degree and I've spent A LOT of time on farms. I was more interested in the customer appreciation lunch. I wanted them to show me how they can feed over 100 people AND create various things out of their CSA products. They did not let me down; I even bought their recipe book on the way out.
While we were walking around the farm, a booth caught my eye, well, mostly the kids were dragging me towards it because it had free smoothie samples. While the kids were trying to negotiate more samples I was finding out, this couple formed this company to help educate people on how to prepare healthy, in-season foods. They offer a recipe subscription service in which you are sent 5 recipes each week that use in-season ingredients.
I know, I know, why would I pay someone to send me recipes when I can just look them up myself? Go ahead....look them up. Try spending the 2 minutes I do - to open up my email and save them to my computer for later use - to find 5 healthy recipes using in-season ingredients that are also cheap to make.
I call this being efficient, not lazy. I have better things to do with my time than get hungrier searching the Internet for breakfast/lunch/dinner/dessert ideas. I also forgot to mention, they include a shopping list with their recipes, so you could plan your meals for the week this way too!
ANYWAY...I haven't been using their recipes as regularly as I like because sometimes the CSA sends different ingredients depending on crop success. However, I started planning weekly meals for the last couple of weeks and we've been very happy getting out of the meal rut we were in.
Last night I made one of their recipes, called "Peach Basil Salad." As I was preparing it, I was already imagining Little Dude protesting dinner, so I made salmon with it. Both kids ate the salad and actually thanked me for dinner!
Today for lunch I made them PB&J sandwiches and tried to eat what little was left of the Peach Basil Salad. Let's just say, I had to share and ended up making myself a PB&J too. It's amazing how one meal can make or break everything. Before this salad, the kids weren't real excited about salads, because we eat them A LOT. However, now that we know we can add all sorts of interesting things to make it different and exciting, the kids are questioning the recipes on the menu and helping me plan a little.
I figured due to the success of this one little salad, I would give a shout out to "Cooking with CSA!"
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
Seriously though, this adds quite a bit of stress to our family and I don't deal well with stress. The stress over the last 7 months while he was in Rhode Island led to: two rooms being painted, carpeted stairs being converted into bamboo flooring, drip irrigation sprinkler system conversion, vegetable gardens made and used, lawn removed and turned into drought resistant garden, 2 ceiling fans installed which involved running electricity and shop lights being installed in the garage. I'm probably forgetting a few things, but as you can tell, I can't sit down and relax when I'm stressed. The busier I am, the better I cope with not having Military Dad around the house. The upside, I am smashing our home improvement list to pieces, so there isn't much left. The downside, now that Military Dad will be home occasionally, he seems to think that he would enjoy being involved in a project or two. I figured I had to either get medicated or find another outlet.
I found another outlet.
Let me first explain a few things about myself so you better understand why this was a dramatic decision. I am not what people would commonly refer to as a social person. If you've read my husbands posts, I have severe problems ordering from Papa John's or Sonic.
It's not that I am physically unable, I just prefer not to talk to people. I absolutely hate talking to people on the phone. I can't see their faces so I can't read their emotions. I am very happy sitting somewhere listening and watching other people, no, not the creepy way! I just like watching people and their emotions. Supposedly when you speak to another person, there is this synapse in your brain that completes normal thoughts and answers questions correctly. I don't seem to have that connection, or at least it has faulty wiring.
Therefore, I was completely happy being antisocial and letting my husband do all the social networking and friend making. Yes, it's lonely in my corner, but when I make a friend, they're keepers in my world!
So you get that I'm antisocial. Now let me explain how almost every job I've worked dealt with customer service in some fashion. If you haven't worked in customer service then you haven't experienced life. It isn't always bad, but it definitely isn't always great. After my last job, I decided I was never going to work in customer service again.
Now that I've been a stay-home mom for 6 straight years, with no real desire to get a job, I am now working in the direct-selling field. I am a person who can't order delivery from a pizza place, unless I can do it online. I am a person who cannot for the life of me ask for a Medium, Diet Limeade from Sonic without seriously confusing the poor employee stuck taking my order. I am also a person who swore off customer service for life.
A friend of mine introduced me to an awesome product and I fell in love with both, the product and the company. I am now going on 1 1/2 months working as an Independent Consultant for Jamberry Nails. No, I'm not going to plug my product here, because I still want this blog to be my way to voice my opinions and work out issues I have.
If you're interested, I have a host of social networking addresses I will post at the bottom of this post. Military Dad has become my Social Networking Consultant and he is helping me with this endeavor. I have his complete support whether I make money or just buy nail wraps. He's definitely pretty awesome in my book!
I think Military Dad also sees this experience as some type of therapy for me. In my short 1 1/2 months I have already hosted a party in a person's house, which involved speaking in front of 5-6 potential customers. I forgot to mention that I don't do public speaking either. For some reason, I am willing to go outside my comfort zone with this company/product, so I think it's a great thing for me. (I'm even thinking about creating a video for my site that explains the product - I am a BEHIND the camera person, so this is still a work-in-progress).
I think MD's long term goal,is for me to actually call a pizza delivery company to order a pizza. Right now I either make him do it or I make myself carsick while I try to order online on my phone, while he's driving! My goal was just to have something else to do while he was away other than house projects. If you are interested in my new job my links are listed below. Thanks for reading!
Order here: classwithflash.jamberrynails.net
Saturday, August 10, 2013
All that changed when I said "I do" to my best friend and soul mate. I've heard of other military families where the spouse is happy when the service member leaves; my heart breaks each time. I'm not sure if it's just our weird little family, but when he leaves we actually feel as if we are missing something vital.
Military Dad has been home for almost a month, so we've had a wonderful time getting to know him again after being apart for 7 months. Tomorrow he gets on a plane and doesn't come back for 41 days. He has actually lived in Rhode Island just as long as he has lived in our new house!
So here I am writing a blog while my kids are making counting chains with Military Dad and I think to myself, "I am a really strong woman!"
I am not defined by my career, I am actually defined by not having a job. I am a Navy wife and I'm proud of it. I have no other option than to be proud. So I apologize in advance, the next series of statements may cause some to tear up. I need to get some stuff off my chest...I've had a margarita, (a grande) so I feel like sharing.
What it means to me to be a Navy wife:
Holding it together as you watch your husband break down as he packs his things.
Holding it together while you watch your husband get depressed about his job and withdraw from the family.
Holding it together as your kids ask, "why does Daddy have to leave, he just got back?"
Holding it together as you pack your husband's things, because it breaks his heart having to leave his family again.
Holding it together as you hug, kiss and read your kids stories at night and tell them, "Daddy will be home soon."
Holding it together when people ask where your husband is?
Trying your best to hold it together and smile (or not strangle them) at the person who says, "I can't believe my husband is gone for a week and I don't know how to function."
Holding it together as you avoid talking to anyone about deployments, because you are on the brink of breaking down into tears...and not the cute kind either.
Holding it together as you do that last load of laundry with his clothes in it, because you realize he really isn't here.
41 more days. Counting them down already.