Polishing our parenting skills

She welcomed us into her world with vomit. She tested us with puke.

And now our adorable bundle of joy is preparing us for parenthood. (Before I go any further... and anger any parents... I will readily admit that owning a dog is much, much harder than owning a kid. I mean, easier! It's much easier than owning a kid, although it sometimes feels harder. But I understand that you can't pen a kid into the kitchen while you go to work, so that probably makes it tough.)

Anyway, I arrived home after work yesterday to find our 15-pound Peekapoo had thrown up on the kitchen floor six times (yay for easy-to-wipe vinyl floors, that's all I have to say). Then she proceeded to puke seven more times until there was nothing to come up but blood.

A harried trip to the vet later, we found out she had most likely eaten part of a chicken bone, which was not blocking anything, but had upset her stomach. The advice from the vet was some medicine to calm her stomach, some under-the-skin fluids and plenty of rest. My favorite part (and the only funny part of the entire day) was the fluids they injected under her skin, which gave her a temporary hump on her back until they were absorbed.

The Pretend Husband's reaction was, "You broke my dog!" and we laughed afterward about how she wasn't all that sick when we brought her into the vet's office, but was looking like the Hunchback of Notre Dame when we brought her out.

All in all, it seems like the having to drop everything, rushing to the doctor while fearful of what they would find and nursing the little one back to health (Molly had chicken and rice for lunch while all I had was pasta!) was good practice for someday becoming parents. Although I'm assuming parenting lacks the last part of the night... the one where Molly woke up at 2 a.m. and crawled onto the PH's chest before her grand finale vomit. But I could be wrong about that.

I accept the challenge!

The quote o' the week from the Pretend Husband:
"I'm going to post on that [Funny Gals] one of these days just to show you how easy that writing thing is."

Yeah, as anyone who has ever written a blog... or anyone who has tried to come up with something witty to put in the comments... or anyone who has never commented because they don't think they're funny enough... will tell you, it's NOT that easy! I'm thinking the PH and SJ's husband, J, may have to do a guest post or two... and we'll let the audience choose the winner. What do you think?

How I know I'm old...

The Pretend Husband and I (along with SJ and Jason and all of our crazy jokes) went out of state this weekend and bought me a gorgeous, sparkly wedding band with more diamonds than I've ever owned.

And yet...

I'm slightly more excited about the pantry the PH constructed and painted for me.

My, how things change when you hit 30!

Just like Thelma & Louise... if they had brought their husbands with them

We spent more than an hour in the car this weekend, driving to another state, to buy our wedding bands. I know, I know. Our state, though small, probably has plenty of places to get some of those round pieces of wedding bondage (um, that doesn’t sound right…) but we heard about this awesome jewelry store! With great prices! Holding a sale this weekend and this weekend only!
That, coupled with the opportunity to spend hours locked in a car with SJ and her husband J, and the chance to have lunch with college pal MP and her husband, MP (how confusing is that?), made for one great adventure.
We got my wedding band, it’s beautiful, it’s sparkly and it was an amazing deal. That’s enough about that because, while it was very exciting, it wasn’t half as fun as the car ride. Four adults, one confined space and about 12,000 jokes. We were all rolling on the floor with laughter (except for me, who kept her hands firmly at 10 and 2 while trying not to drive off the road or snort too loudly). For example, there was that one about… um, yeah, that was actually pretty racist and I’m kind of ashamed for laughing, so I won’t be sharing that one. OK, how about the one I said about Setback… well, that’s actually more of an inside joke so you probably wouldn’t find that one funny either.
We determined that we’re all pretty funny people, but, between the four of us, are about as quick-witted as one reasonably talented comedian. So we could put on a pretty good act, but it would take all four of us trading places on stage and timing it so the person with the best line was at the microphone when they thought of it. And the audience would have to spend a lot of time with us to know the background for all our inside jokes (or, at least, not be racially-sensitive).
Come to think of it, maybe we’d better just stick to yukking it up on our road trips.

sj's pictorial diary of the day the power went out at work

see, molly? this was really all for you.

tsk, tsk.

With your fancy schmancy high speed internet, i would have expected a Monday post, KAT

okay - i tease. so maybe she's a little busy what with the whole new house, planning a wedding, about to attend 235 of them, playing soccer with her ailing limbs, etc. oh- and practicing her setback skills.

that's right. she's been practicing. or we play better when drunk. whichever. we somehow managed to beat the boys 3 games this weekend. i like to think it was the combination of KAT's drinking and my over-compensating for her drunkeness by actually paying attention for a change.

so i'm totally glad that march is almost over. historically, i *HATE* march. it's always been a bad month for me. and so maybe because it's been bad, i just assume it's gong to be bad going forward. but whatever. it's like march comes around and i'm a different person. i also tend to misbehave in march. bad stuff just happens in march and i get all stressed out and reminded of bad things and just boom. things fall apart.

to make up for it, i've been reading a lot this month. i'm trying an escapism route. i'm actually re-reading stuff that usually makes me feel better (lots of dorothy parker and ts eliot) but nothing seems to be getting through. i'm looking for suggestions. it doesn't have to be happy - it doesn't have to inspire. just whatever. right now, i need it to escape.

KAT's wacky weekend fun (or how to justify drinking heavily on a Sunday night)

Well, a busy weekend in KAT-land, let me tell you. First, we gone done got ourselves that Internet everybody’s been jabbering ‘bout. I’m just not sure how I’m supposed to catch anything with it (rimshot!)

Actually, I’ve had the Internet before and I have to use it at work every once in awhile (like to email SJ and to check other people’s blogs), but it’s been more than a year since I’ve had it come right into my very own home. I mean, we’ve been walking a mile… in the snow… up hill both ways… to use it. So it’s nice to have an indoor Internet for a change. And you, friends, will now be able to join in the fun of daily posts from KAT! (OK, probably not daily, but it’s nice to know I at least have the option of posting on the weekends if anything exciting happens.)

Good Lord, what had gotten into me? I think it’s a combination of the paint fumes I inhaled all day yesterday while painting the stairs (all day! And not even the tops of the stairs! Just the backs and the trim on the side! All day!) and the crazy time SJ and I had in our local bridal store (actually, not local. I think it might be national. So if you have one near you… and you too find humor in child brides surrounded by obedient bridesmaids who will allow themselves to be yelled at for the chance to throw down $200 on a dress and march down an aisle with a pretty bouquet in their hands… then you should definitely go there.)

Apparently, it was half-off the dresses and double-up on the crazy at this place today. One of those days when you pull into the parking lot and go, “Oh hell no!” Which we said… right before going in anyway. We got our share of dirty looks as we slapped on the 10-foot long veils and practiced our Miss America waves while wearing the biggest tiaras we could find (who says I’m not taking this wedding stuff seriously?!?).

What we didn’t get was my wedding dress. Which just means SJ and I will have to ditch the husbands again soon and plunge back into the world of “It’s my special day and you are not going to ruin it by wearing a size 8 dress. Everyone has to wear matching size 6 dresses, so start dieting, tubbo!” I can’t wait.

a pictorial diary of my snow day. or my snow friday afternoon.

snow days on friday afternoons. not so bad.

like the weather

this weather, for the past two days has been so absolutely beautiful -- and now i hear we're getting snow.

dammit.

and i was totally looking forward to my spring wardrobe. the only thing that would make my upcoming summer complete would be having a pool. alas. no pool for sj. i'm in fact so very jealous of anyone who has a pool. if only i had a swimming pool to look forward to this summer. drat!

okay. i'm being a little sarcastic mcsarcasticpants. i really don't mind not having a pool. i had one growing up and in fact made lots of use of it. but i also didn't have to clean it and vaccuum it. and when i got old enough where i did have these chores, pools suddenly lost their charm.

the truth is, j and i are starting to take very minor baby steps into thinking about our next house. very minor. and really just looking. but it's been a thought for a while, and with the spring coming, it puts us more in the mood. and then i read KAT's post and i'm reminded of so much i don't want to do again anytime soon.

It's tough being me!

I’ve been really worried lately that I’m starting to show my age, what with the sprained ankle from soccer and the horrendous neck pain from hauling boards this weekend. But then I called someone Liar McLiarpants.

And I just asked a kid I work with how much money he would pay me to chug a half-gallon of milk.

Now I’m not so worried about my age. I’m worried about my mental health.

thou art my friend

kat and i had a funny conversation yesterday about liar mcliarpants (she'll be sharing that story eventually, but we've had some funny stuff lately happening around us, so we'll get to it....), and i've decided to steal her expression for regular use at work... and in life in general, of course.

i have a poser mcposerpants in my office right now. go ahead- use the expression. it'll make you laugh.

so i had another social faux pas. and i feel really bad about it. there was this man. and he was very... um... large. he can fill a doorway, and he's also a little wide. which whatever - i don't care about that kind of thing and it doesn't make him gross to me or in anyway repulsive. he seems like a very nice man. but he was coming towards me. and i was walking towards him. and there was an aisle. not a narrow aisle, but not an aisle where we would both fit comfortably at once. so i immediately stood off to the side, as if he could possibly infer: "whoa there, buddy. i don't want to be anywhere near you - you'll knock me over!"

that was not the thought going through my head, but he kind of gave me a "oh fine, lady. you go first" look. and now i feel ridiculous. and i have this overwhelming need to make friends just so he can understand that i wasn't judging.

i have issues. clearly. but i'm not a judger! sure, i mean, there are some people out there with some serious issues (liar mcliarpants included - SERIOUS issues) and i may have a preconceived notion of her being crazy (mostly she painted that dali painting herself).

but really, i'm an easy going gal and hold very little judging thoughts about people. except stupid people, of course. and celebrities. but other than that, i'm your friend.

stupid taxes.

we just had our taxes done. which, whatever. i'm glad i'm not canadian where they have free healthcare and all of that crap. but man. i hate taxes. particularly, i hate things like schedule a, words like itemized, AGI and other such things.

but, luckily, i'm only having to pay $450 to the feds, and $75 comes back from the state. which could be much worse. but it's not worse. so yay. and also, it could be worse in that i could be an accountant. i'd be so much less fun. granted, i'm sure there are really fun accountants out there -- but the two that i know are not very fun (shhh - dont' tell them. they're still nice people. you just don't make midnight trips to the grocery store wearing funny hats, slippers and buy whipped cream and grapes with them. i'm just sayin.)

in other news, we've purchased a bowflex and an exercise bike. and by we, i mean, my husband has purchased these things. he's also on steroids. which sounds bad, but actually, he's on steroids as medication. i was actually on steroids as well for my asthma and bronchitis -- so you can imagine how fun the arm-wrestling tournaments were. but so yeah - i'm a little afraid he's going to be roughly the size of a professional wrestler before long. i'm sure he was also afraid that i would be the size of a professional wrestler before long and refused to let me near the bowflex, lest i develop "unfeminine muscles."

which is funny when you think about it - but i'm still afraid j's going to get bigger boobs than me. (okay, so on him they're pecs, but you know what i mean.)

st. patrick's day is coming up, so stac -- how about dinner at cassile's? (i've been meaning to call stacey for weeks. but it's no surprise that in addition to no blogging, i've been anti-social.)

hacking cough, fever, and apparently, rosy areolas.

okay, okay. I know. it’s been forever. I’d like to say nothing eventful has happened that would cause me to blog anything interesting, but that’s just not true.

someone asked about my nipples at work.

okay – so it wasn’t that obvious. it was more an accidental slip when they meant to ask about my… bronchioli? the things that are in my lungs that were recently broken due to a nasty bout of acute bronchitis and asthma (never had it before in my life – but the whole lungs filled with nasty stuff thing triggered my inability to breathe).

I was walking toward the ladies room – minding my business completely – when someone asked me "hey, sj, how are your areolas?”

well. just rosey, thank you.

I actually pretended not to know what he was asking about. because I knew that he meant my lungs. but somehow, he ended up asking about the area around my nipples.

common mistake. people ask me about these puppies all the time. anonymous – I’m sure you get that a lot too. (it runs in the family).

oh- and the person that asked was my boss’ son.

Look out, my wrinkles are showing!

Just a few short years ago, a weeknight for me was as likely to include going out with coworkers for happy hour and plans for dinner with friends as it was a plan to stay home and watch TV. Ah, how the times have changed.

These days, I’m more likely to spend my evenings unpacking, working on crafts, talking with the Pretend Husband or reading, than I am out at a bar or restaurant. Take our exciting night last night as an example (planned in advance and looked forward to, no less!) We not only hit up a price club, but also a grocery store! Whoo! I’m still dizzy from the excitement of my night out!

Those price clubs are crazier than I remember. I mean, do people really buy their underwear there? It is really a one-stop shopping kind of place, as long as you don’t mind ridiculously large amounts of everything. Our trip to the grocery store later was because we only wanted three pounds of turkey burgers and a normal size bag of chips rather than being able to treat the neighborhood to dinner… for a week.

So there we were, with our cart full of a large screen television, four tires, a 14-pound rack of ribs, a five-gallon bucket of peanut butter and enough toilet paper to last us until retirement… OK, I’m just kidding. But I did spend a lot of time marveling at the products– how many children do you have to have to require a jar of jelly as big as my head? How big is your freezer that you can fit a tub of Breyer’s ice cream and still have room for ice (now available in 40-pound bags!) And, who chews that much gum?

But at least it got us out of the house. Tonight, my big plans include unpacking more boxes and– if I’m feeling really crazy– perhaps staying up late enough for two loads of laundry to get done.

Bits and pieces of my weekend

– I managed to embarrass myself thoroughly in front of the new, cute young (did I mention cute?) veterinarian on Friday afternoon. He commented on Molly’s Red Sox collar and I told him I had nothing to do with it. After chatting with the vet tech for a few minutes about baseball, he said, “Well, I guess someone’s father must like the Red Sox” and then peeked around the tech to give me a look. I was startled and said, “Uh no, fiancé.” It wasn’t until he had already left the room that I realized he meant the dog’s dad, not mine!
(If you think that’s a funny story, you should hear SJ’s story about her coworker’s blunder. It’s even better! How about it, SJ?)

– I discovered IKEA is bad for my health. We dragged SJ and her hubby down there Sunday morning to wander through the rooms (those sterile rooms that are just too organized for anyone to really live there). I thought I had healed from my sprained ankle of last weekend’s soccer game, and had even decided to play again that night. But IKEA showed me otherwise. Walking through the store (I think we were on mile 9 or 10), I felt a shooting pain in my ankle, bad enough to bring tears to my eyes. I had to sit down and then walk through the next 25 miles of merchandise leaning on the PH’s arm like an old woman.
Oh, and we went there with a huge list of things to buy for our house. Like Roman shades! And perhaps an entertainment center! And a rug for the dining room! And a light for the kitchen! And you know what we bought? A clock. Yup, one measly clock. SJ and the hubby, on the other hand, did well. They hadn’t planned on buying anything and yet managed to find $60 worth of stuff (you know how much $60 gets you at IKEA?!?) so at least the trip was worth it.

– I’ve discovered a new way to resolve fights with the PH that is just earth-shattering. I’m thinking of teaching seminars because it is just that good. I’m going to offer this new secret for the low, low price of $19.95 plus $39.95 shipping. But for you? It’s a free, trial offer. Ready for this?
Ladies, if you are fighting with your boyfriend, husband, pretend husband, fiancé or whomever, the surefire way to make him forget about it (therefore, letting you win the argument by default) is to… have sex with him. I’m telling you, it works! A little ear nibbling here, whispered dirty words there, and he suddenly forgets that you think the entertainment center he picked out is ugly. I’m thinking about trying this in the store the next time we argue over furniture.

Oh, and I’m hoping my future mother-in-law is not into reading blogs. If you are, Pretend Mother-in-Law, I’m just kidding… the vet wasn’t that young.

Good thing my vacuum sucks...

Got dressed, did my hair this morning (looking pretty good, KAT!) and ready to go out the door. Molly, want to come to work with Mom? Got my keys, here’s my phone. What did the Pretend Husband ask me to do before leaving? Oh right, check the basement to make sure none of the torrential rain has made it inside. Look out the window as I walk to the basement door and wonder why two ducks, two panda bears and two monkeys are marching across the yard. Didn't I read somewhere about rain and pairs of animals and... whatever, must check the basement.

Open the basement door, walk down three steps… oh no. What is that dark spot at the bottom of the steps? Begrudgingly walk down a few more stairs to find water almost everywhere. A puddle here, just a little dampness there, bone dry over there. No rhyme or reason (or source that I could find).

Run back upstairs. What should I do? My first instinct is to call the landlord, but– duh– this is my problem now. Call the PH and his dad, who lives four minutes away, and then wade back into the basement for a morning of moving furniture around, rolling up the carpeting and putting our new wet/dry vac to good use (I can now attest for both its wet and dry powers. Best money ever spent!)

I wish I thought to take a picture... not of the basement, but of my attire. While cleaning up down there, I thought to roll my jeans up over my ankles. Except I was wearing socks and sneakers. So it's not like my pants were going to get wet in the less than half an inch of water if I didn't roll them. And if they did, my socks and sneakers would have gotten soaked too. But I guess there's just something about a flood that makes you roll your pants (or is it just me?) Next week, tune in as I curl my bangs to clean the house!

Before I make it sound too serious, the carpeting that got wet was the pink stuff we took out of the living room. We can live without it in the basement just as easily as not having it in the living room. So that wasn’t a loss. And, unlike a flood at my parents’ house when I moved there after college, nothing was damaged this time. I guess I’m getting better about not storing books, irreplaceable photos and other mementos in possible flood zones.

The PH assures me this was a freak occurrence and only happened because of the massive amount of rain we got on top of the frozen ground (the radio newsman this morning was telling people to stay home because of all the roads that are flooded). He promises we will not have a wet basement every time it rains (and he’s probably right because it has rained since we moved in and there wasn’t a problem). But just in case, I’m keeping the PFIL (Pretend Father in Law) on speed dial.

Marching into March

Wow. March already. I feel like February flew by in an aching-back, coercing your friends to help you move, hauling everything you own up and down stairs, new home kind of way. I failed to keep up my journal during February… which happened for the first time since I began keeping a journal about five years ago. That’s how busy it was.

Some highlights:
– We took the pre-marriage classes at my church this month. A weekend of fun teachings, such as “Contraception is evil!” “If you are having pre-marital sex with your future spouse, that makes you adulterers. Do you really want to marry an adulterer?” and “Contraception is the reason for increased crime, poverty, single parent families, homosexuality and abortions.” And this was at a fairly liberal church… I can’t imagine what the conservative ones are saying!

– The debate rages on about whether the new wall color in our dining room more closely resembles “Brown Blanket” (its cheesy name given by the paint company) or “poop” (the name given by the Pretend Husband). I prefer to think of it as “Hot Chocolate” or something else that will make me actually want to be in the room! I’ll let you decide for yourself (but please ignore the ladder and the terrible finish in the hallway. I'm hoping both are gone soon)



– I got kicked at soccer last weekend and have been limping around on a slightly sprained ankle all week. It happened to coincide with a snowstorm (“Sorry I can’t help shovel, honey. It’s this darn sprained ankle!”) Two neighborhood boys have been bugging us to hire them to shovel our driveway (one actually came over and did it anyway… I’m not sure if he was being neighborly, was being punished by his mom or was looking for payment…) and my ankle was a perfect excuse to throw some cash their way. Now if I can just convince the PH my injury lasts long enough to get out of mowing…

– The story about… um, someone who shall remain nameless for obvious reasons (but it wasn’t me!) getting locked out of her car. She has one of those remote opener thingies, which apparently stopped working (I think the batteries died). Well, she went to a neighbor’s house and waited two hours for a locksmith to arrive to get her into the vehicle… not realizing the key attached to the remote would have worked just as well!

I’ve been bad at posting lately, but am trying to make it my March resolution to post more often. I predict plenty of posts about house stuff, getting back into my life after taking a month off to demo and decorate, house stuff and perhaps a photo or two of the cutest dog on earth. But why wait?