How I Snagged Your Mother

On April 2, we passed the ten year anniversary for our engagement. I would have blogged about it then, but I wanted to scan some pictures from that time to include with my writing. However, our scanner doesn't like Vista at all, and has rejected Chris' laptop as well, so I have nothing. It's a shame too, because we look so freakin' young!

Anyhoo... I thought I'd share the story with you. I won't get into the fact that an ex-boyfriend caught wind that the engagement might be happening and proposed to me the night before we left. It was an act of desperation, for which I should be flattered, but really just made me feel like dog poop. However, I packed my bags and headed to the mountains that beautiful Good Friday... fairly sure this was the weekend, but not really knowing.

Chris found a small cabin for us for the weekend (Friday and Saturday night) at Grandfather Mountain, which is near Boone, NC. We arrived around 5pm and got settled in. Chris then suggested we head to a Hibachi restaurant he knew of nearby. I had not eaten at a Hibachi restaurant since I was a young child and had been frightened of the fire, so I said "Sure!" and off we went.

For some reason, I was absolutely positive that if a proposal was coming, I would get it over dinner. Imagine my dismay when I found we were to sit with ten other people (strangers). I put on my best, "No, I'm totally comfortable meeting strangers" face and ended up enjoying the meal very much. But... no proposal. So, I figured that it wouldn't happen until the next day on our planned hike, and I put it to the back of my mind.

We made a stop at the grocery store for tomorrow night's dinner (my plan was to cook in the cabin) and also the ABC store for me (Chris doesn't drink).

We got back, put groceries away, and Chris started a fire in the little fireplace. It wasn't cold, but it was cool enough for us to enjoy the fire. I sipped at my cocktail (a screwdriver) and Chris started rummaging through his bag. He handed me a bottle of cologne and asked, "Do you think your mom will like this?" I was taken aback by the question (Why would he care if my mom liked his cologne?), plus I was baffled he even HAD cologne (he's not really the sort), but I humored him and took a sniff. "It's fine," I reported.

I don't really remember what he said next. Probably something like "Will your mom like THIS?" All I know was I suddenly had a ring under my nose and he was waiting for an answer. He totally distracted me with the cologne so he could get the ring out of his bag. Sneaky.

I had been expecting it, but the logical part of my brain took over and I reviewed my decision one last time before accepting.

We did hike the next day in the Linville gorge, and then we left Sunday to go back to my mom's for Easter Dinner, where we shared the news with my mom and sister. From there, we went back to my house and started making phone calls. I think we even set the date while we were still in the mountains, but I may be wrong about that.

In preparation for writing this, I asked Chris what his memories were. He barely even remembers buying the ring, which seems very odd to me. But this is Chris we're talking about.

An Auspicious Beginning

In what is sure to become a series this year, I am about to regale you with the story of our first date. (When I say "our" first date, I am referring to Chris and myself. Not "me and you," as I did not date most of those of you reading this. At least... I hope not. A couple of nights along the way are kind of hazy but... well, yes... I'm sure).

Why am I doing this? A good question! Because yesterday was (drum roll please)... the 10th anniversary of our second first date! TA DAAAAAAAAAAAA!


Yeah, you read that right. Ready? Here we go.


I've already shared with you how Chris and I met one January night ten years ago. If you don't remember the story, either blogger ate it, or I will send a prize to the person who can dig it out of my archives. I couldn't find it anywhere. I may have to rewrite that, but meanwhile...

We met in January. In early February, we became aware that we were interested in each other. I was in the middle of breaking up with someone I had been dating for several months who just couldn't seem to commit to much of anything in regards to "us." I was at the "shit or get off the pot" point, and Chris entered on cue, Stage Right.

Although instinct told me that I should really let the break-up sit for a while, I also was kind of intrigued by this self-(over-?)confident young fellow and thought that a little online chatting wouldn't hurt anything. He became more and more interesting to me over the next couple of weeks, and finally, on February 25, he asked me out. To a hockey game. One month away.

"The Canes are playing the Leafs there in Greensboro," he said over the phone line. I had never been to an NHL game. Still... a month to wait for our first date? "Um... sure!" said I. And then I hoped that maybe he'd ask me to do something before then.

The next day, he called me at work and asked what I was doing that night. Truth be told, I was planning on having a couple of beers, a pizza, and watching a movie. But I said what any girl who wants to go out with a guy says to that question, "Oh, nothing much." (Yeah, really hard to get. I'm so good with the head games, aren't I?)

He asked if he could drive to Greensboro (where I lived at the time) and take me out somewhere. "Sure!" says I, again with the playing-hard-to-get. He arrived on time and almost immediately earned himself a black mark on the "potential life-mate" scorecard when he asked, "So... what do you want to do?"

For years... YEARS... I dated guys who never put a moment's thought into planning an actual date. There were a few exceptions... and one who never planned anything, but would wing it without shrugging his shoulders and saying, "I dunno... what do YOU want to do." Is it too much to ask that when a guy asks you out, he has some idea of what he wants to do?! Argh.

He did, however, have something of an excuse... he wasn't from 'round these parts, you see... so he didn't know what there was TO do. I would argue that Greensboro has all the date mainstays of any other medium-sized city... movie theaters, restaurants, go-karts... whatever. But, I cut him some slack... because I'm just that nice. And... he's pretty cute.

As we debated restaurants or movies or whathaveyou, he asked... "Well, what would you have done if I hadn't asked you out tonight?" I told him that I had been planning to watch Return of the Jedi, which my friend had let me borrow, since I hadn't seen it and Episode I was due out in a few months.

He fainted.

Well, no... he didn't faint. But he almost burst a blood vessel when he realized that he was actually talking to a person who had not, in fact, seen every Star Wars movie made to date, and in fact, had only seen Star Wars itself maybe four times. I'm surprised he didn't flee the premises. So now we're tied... one to one... for black marks against our characters.

He then insisted that we watch Jedi IMMEDIATELY and he even resisted the urge to recite the whole movie as it transpired. I was impressed. He kissed me. I let him. I even kissed him back. And then, if I remember correctly, he slept on the couch. I wouldn't let him drive back to Raleigh that late, but I wasn't ready to provide any other comforts, if you know what I mean.

So that is how we had two first dates... one month apart from each other... back in 1999. We did, in fact, go to the hockey game and I learned that NHL hockey really is that much better than minor league games.

Next up in the series... Chris pops the question. Look for it in about two weeks... the 10th anniversary of when he actually asked me.

A Special Day

Today is the birthday of the sexiest man I know. Fortunately, it is also Chris' birthday, so I can say that with immunity. You still have some time to wish him a happy one, if you haven't already!

And We Shall Blog It, And It Shall Be Good. We Hope.

We leave to visit my main man, The Mouse, on Friday. We're taking Aiden's family with us as well. And a babysitter! YAY! I will post pics of our trip to The World as we live it to the best of my ability. I have many friends who live-blog, and their pictures always look so great. I think my camera on my phone is just kind of sub-par. But hopefully one or two will come out decent.

I am also hoping to make movies each day like I did last June, but the problem with that is that Vista and Windows MM have not been playing well together on my new laptop. We'll see if I can beat that issue, but for now, live blogging might be the best you can get from me.

I am battling a cold at the moment. Although I would rather have the cold now than on vacation, I am finding it hampers my ability to accomplish the bajillion things needing accomplishing before we go. Tomorrow night, we face laundry, packing, and cleaning out my car. Friday morning, the car will get a bath and I will get a mani/pedi (a vacation tradition). We're hitting the road about 1pm. The photos should start appearing around then. I'm sure 10 hours in the car (split over two days) will provide enough interesting fodder to keep you checking back.

Maybe.

Probably not. But at least I'll have pics uploaded when I get back!

Overheard at My House

Chris had hockey the other night... his last game of the season. He was up for Highest Points in the League. And he was playing the team with the other guys who were closest to catching up. But he had a good lead, and all they had to do was keep the top guys from getting lots of points as individuals.

They did manage to do that... but just barely. And they lost terribly. So Chris was feeling a bit dejected, but okay. He finished telling me about the game, then went to take a shower. Upon exiting the shower, we had the following conversation:

Me: Feeling better

Chris: Somewhat. I'm cleaner at least.

Me: True. And you know what they say. Cleanliness is next to...

*dramatic pause*

In Unison (because I have lived with this man long enough to know...): Me.

A House Divided

The Universities in North Carolina have a really long history, and along with that, an incredibly strong fan base. This is particularly true with our ACC schools here in the Triangle Area. UNC, Duke and NC State are all within thirty miles of each other, and this leads to strong rivalries, and, oddly enough, marriages.

Chris and I have such a marriage. He went to NC State (boooooooooo) and I went to UNC (yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay). We are a House Divided.

Just to give you some idea of how big a deal this can be... I'll tell you a story of when Chris and I first started dating. He had made it quite clear that he was very interested in me. We were on our first date after we had been chatting at game nights and online for a few weeks. He was at my house, sitting on the couch, and we were watching Return of the Jedi. We were chatting... and our schools came up.

I am a little bit older than he is. I already knew he was at NC State in grad school, and I had just finished grad school in Greensboro. So I had already adjusted to the idea that he was the enemy, academically speaking. He, however, did not know where I had done my undergrad. When I told him, his eyes widened and his expression was easier to read than a large print copy of Good Night Moon. He was making a decision... can I actually date a UNC grad? Can we have a future together? Can she be half as awesome as I think she is if she bleeds Carolina Blue?

Obviously he came to his senses and our relationship moved forward. But, there are still issues. One of the major ones is the kids.

We had to make a pact when I learned I was pregnant with Athena. Neither of us were allowed to buy any of our own school's merchadise for the kids. Others could buy for us, but we could not. Soon, the NC State stuff started coming in from Brant, but Jason followed up with a healthy dose of UNC. We both have good friends, apparently.

Which brings us to today. Recently Marcus picked up one of Chris' NC State ball caps. He wore it around, which was terribly cute as it's way too big for him. But he loves it, so Chris adjusted it to as small a size as he can, and Marcus wears it all the time.

Naturally, this has been bothering me. So Mom and I were in dear old Chapel Hill on Friday, and she learned that Marcus was in need of a Carolina ball cap. She purchased a very cute one that is actually in his size.

I gave it to him yesterday.

He wore it for ten minutes.

He tossed it aside and last night, he slept with the NC State hat.

I have failed.









But there is still hope for Athena.

Something Cool

My brother-in-law (specifically, Chris' sister's husband) writes an occasional storyline for Walt Disney's Comics. One of his stories appears in the March book (No. 690) - ISBN 978-1-60360-025-5. I don't have any permission to scan the panel or the cover art for you, but it's cool enough to tell you about it. He put in a little tribute to Chris' dad, who spent his career managing restaurants... If you happen upon the book (or you own it), check out The Winter of Their Dissed Kismet." One panel about midway through the story features a restaurant called "Caran's Costly Cafe." Nifty!

Eye Eye Cap'n

Chris got the eye gout last week. It wasn't pink eye, exactly, but it behaved like pink eye... except for the pink part. Runny, swollen... almost looked like he'd... um... walked into a door. You know. Really hard. One of those doors with five fingers tightly crunched up in a ball-like shape.

And two of his co-workers had it as well. At almost exactly the same time. I said "Don't touch me, you infested-with-gout icky boy." But, you know... I didn't resort to sleeping on the couch or anything.

He's all better now... but since yesterday, my eye has been twitching. This morning, driving to work, I swear it started to swell shut. As I left my library to go to another library to cover their staff meeting, I felt it again... swelling.

So I did what any card-carrying real woman does. I called my husband to bitch at him.

His response?

"It was allergies, hun."

uh huh... well... then your allergies are catching, my man.

ALTHOUGH, it does always seem to get worse when I go outside. Stupid pollen. Stupid eye gout. Stupid twitchy eye.

Flying Solo

Chris is out of town, rendering me single once again. Oddly, I do better with the kids when Chris isn't around. I think when he's here, I rely on him too much, so my temper with the kids is shorter. That may not make sense to you... and it doesn't really make sense to me... but it's what seems to happen.

Chris left last night before dinner, so the Gundlach's helped me feed, wear out, bathe, and then load the kids into the car. When we got home, getting them to sleep was really not a problem.

Tonight, I picked them up at daycare and Kathryn (who is also down a husband and a child) joined us all at Char-Grill. They just opened one near her house. For those not from the Triangle area, Char-Grill is an institution here. It's been around forever, and their business model is a bit irritating to me. Basically, you have no contact with a human being until you actually pick up your food. This is because you order by filling out a confusing menu/ticket, then depositing it in a slot big enough to JUST fit the ticket. Behind the glass, a cook picks it up, makes it, and then they call you by number to come pay for your food. I just don't trust it.

I haven't eaten there for a while, and couldn't remember the difference between a "hamburger steak' and a "char-burger." Of course, the menu/ticket contains no descriptions... nor does the menu hanging on the glass. So I ordered hot dogs all around. Unfortunately, I forgot their hotdogs are of the pink (i.e. non-food) variety. Ew. Marcus, however, was the only one smart enough to toss his to the ground immediately and eat fries and goldfish crackers only.

Kathryn had to make a hasty exit home because Char-Grill not only doesn't want to actually talk to you, but they apparently don't want you to have babies with you either, as exemplified by the lack of changing facilities in the restroom. So I enjoyed the rest of my dinner trying to extract conversation from Athena while catching various bits of food that Marcus tossed at me.

We headed to the gym after our healthy supper so Athena could attend her last swim lesson of the session. First, I stopped by the manager's office to complain about various things from the lack of toilet paper in the women's locker room to the fact that when they cancel our swim class because of lightning, it is apparently too difficult for their staff to call the FOUR people registered for the class to let them know they need not come. He just smiled and nodded and essentially thanked me for sharing my thoughts. Ah... great customer service... how I miss thee.

Next stop, kid's care center. Nothing like picking up your youngest child from 9 hours in day care, only to dump him in another care facility while you go ensure your eldest doesn't drown. Needless to say, he was unimpressed and generally displeased... but because he is an angel, he waited it out. AND he charmed the entire staff in the room so they all carried him around and played with him the whole time... spoiling him rotten. That charmer.

Anyhoo... Athena kicked ass in her swim class. She's come a long way, and I am going to try to enroll her in the next level up for the next round of classes. I want to keep up the momentum.

When we got home, Marcus collapsed. It was 8:45, after all, which is WAY later than his normal 8pm lights out. Athena, on the other hand, who should have been exhausted from an hour total in the pool, was wired. It took a change of clothes (from nightgown to t-shirt), a trip to the potty, a brief lie-down with her, the extermination of two monsters and a "bad shadow" (one by trash can, two by sink) and a call to her father to get her to settle down.

When we called Chris, I just put the phone to her ear and let her talk. She almost started crying, and said "I just want you to come hooooooooooome!" Chris about lost it. I actually teared up.

But Chris, being ever-industrious, knew just the way to talk her into waiting until Sunday to see him.

"I'll bring you a present, Athena!"

She beamed. (Good thing we don't spoil her, eh?)

The Fickle Man

Okay... we all know I am crazy in love with my husband. In fact, "crazy" is an excellent word to use there. But anyway...

He does have this annoying tendancy to change his mind about things. This, by itself, isn't annoying. What is annoying (in that charming, funny way of course), is that when he changes his mind, he a) pretends he never ever felt differently (i.e. not acknowledging that he was wrong, heaven forbid) and b) he then gives me hell if I still feel the same way HE felt last week.

Example:
Chris used to always take the kids to daycare, as it was generally on his way to work. I only took them rarely. We always went a certain way. Then one day, unbeknownst to me, he switched to a different route. I did notice this by accident, when I realized he was still behind me while we were on our way one morning, and he should have turned way back. I saw where he exited instead, and realized he must have decided to take a different route.

So about a week after I noticed this (and for all I know, it was months after he had switched routes), we were taking the kids to school together for some reason. When I turned to go "the old way," he snorted and said, "I can't believe you go to daycare this way. I NEVER go this way."

Uh... dude... you TAUGHT me to go this way.

Example Two:
I brought my work laptop home with me two years ago when I went on maternity leave for Athena. It was his first look at the tools I was provided by my excellent, cushy county job. I pulled the computer from its case, and he snorted, "Gateway! What a piece of crap."

Chris is buying a laptop for his writing work now that he has had to surrender his old one to the People's Republic of Computers. He's shopping tonight and has selected the optimal laptop for his needs. Guess what brand it is?

And when I pointed out that he had once snorted at it, he said, "Well, they aren't that bad. And yours is old."

And they say WOMEN are fickle! Sheesh...

I Have the Coolest Husband

Here's the thing about marrying someone who doesn't give a rat's toot what people think about him... he will try ANYTHING. It's something that makes him a great dad, and today, it made him a really nifty husband.

Today was my half-day at work since I worked Sunday. Originally, I considered working all day today to build up some comp time for my upcoming trip, but I had a bajillion errands to run and I was pretty darn tired of work. So, I called Chris to see if he wanted to join me for my errands.

On my list of things to do was a manicure/pedicure. I always get one before I go on vacation to sort of "kick things off" so to speak. In my wallet was a gift certificate for a manicure and pedicure that I had given to Chris a couple of years ago for Christmas. Yes... for Chris. Here's why.

I was talking about how much I enjoyed my manis and pedis, and he asked me what they were like. As I described them, I said, "You know, YOU might enjoy a good 'man' pedicure." He shrugged and said, "Yeah... sounds like I would." So, I bought him the gift certificate.

I had it in MY wallet, because it laid about the house for over a year when I finally asked him if I should just use it myself. He shrugged and said, "Sure... I haven't had time to even think about it." Then I promptly forgot I had it.

So today, I told him I had the gift certificate and he could finally give it a try. He seemed hesitant at first, but then he said "yes!"

So we walk into the place and every woman there (three customers and four staff) looked shocked/amused/confused/intrigued when I announced that we both wanted a pedicure and a manicure. They gave us two seats beside each other and we talked while our two cosmetologists nattered on in Vietnamese. They did, however, stop to ask us how long we'd been married and how many kids we have (they knew the answer already because I've shown them pictures like, a dozen times). Then one of them told me how handsome he was. Actually, she said it in a way that indicated she was surprised I had bagged such a stud. But I'm ignoring that. They then resumed their coversation in Vietnamese, in which I'm sure they told each other how shocked they were that my husband was so handsome.

Anyway, Chris seemed to enjoy it and I had a great time with him there. Since he didn't get color on his nails, he headed over to EB Games while I sat under the dryer. It was all very pleasant. If it weren't so darned expensive, I'd take him every time I went!

Randomia

We had our first Dream Dinners failure tonight. Ironically, I was just telling a coworker yesterday about how everything we'd eaten had been delicious. In this case, it wasn't that the food didn't taste good... it just cooked up wrong. It actually came out of the oven cold, but seemingly overcooked in some places and undercooked in others. Chris said it was not completely thawed, so we are guessing that was the problem. We're disappointed though, because we were looking forward to this dish (tilapia with baby shrimp). In fact, I made two bags of it, so we'll have another opportunity to try it and see if it comes out any better.

I have a meeting for a project at work tommorrow morning. I am beginning to hate this project. Every little detail involved seems to cause stress and heartache. Which is just stupid, really, considering the nature of the project. I work in a library for crissakes! How much heartache could be involved? Apparently, plenty. Bleh.

We practice something called "Facilitative Leadership" in our system. It's a good concept at its soul, but I can't seem to grasp it. It's all about listening and inquiring and testing assumptions... all good stuff... but I'm so used to doing things a different way that it seems to interfere with my productivity when I use it. I am told this is just because I need more practice. In the meantime, I have to run meetings using these skills, and I always walk out emotionally drained and feeling like a failure. Gotta love it.

Athena has been showing us her dance moves lately. We must post a video. It's too cute to describe. She does this shimmy thing... you would have to see it. It's awesome. We'll work on getting it on tape.

I've been kicking around more plans for our Disney trip. I know it's not until April, but it's the only trip I've got coming up, and I have to have something to look forward to. At the moment, we're staying at the Marriott Cypress Harbor. We are hoping to be able to switch to an onsite resort (most likely Old Key West, although we are hoping for The Wilderness Lodge for its proximity to the Magic Kingdom) but because of the nature of our friends' timeshare points, we probably won't know if space is available until early February. However, if we don't stay onsite, it will be fine. We'll spend some time at the resort pools, and we know we want to go to SeaWorld one day. Wherever we stay, it will be a good trip.

We're currently considering asking Grandma to watch Marcus for that week. (Hi, Grandma!) At first, I was gung-ho to take him, since we could get his first haircut there just as we did for Athena. But the reality of dragging the poor guy around the parks for a week behind his three-year-old sister, her five-year-old buddy, and with any luck, her good friend Aiden... well, Marcus would be miserable. And therefore so would we. He would be one year old. What would be the point, really?

Chris and I are starting to trade nights/kid responsibility. Tonight, I get Athena and he gets Marcus. However, lately, both kids have been sleeping well through the night. Athena has managed to stay on top of her bed and Marcus has gotten better at getting himself back to sleep... perhaps thanks to the magic teddy bear. So here's hoping there are no incidents.

It appears that Chris has given me his cold. I plan to kick him in his sleep many times tonight. Wish me luck.

It's Amazing What You Can Tune Out...

Kathryn sent this to me. She took it on a visit to their house. In the foreground, you see our daughter, clearly in a state of all out frenzy. In the background, that's Chris... completely engrossed in an Entertainment Weekly. So for those of you who are childless and wonder, "Can't they SHUT that kid UP?!" the answer is, "Yes, if we actually heard that kid... but we've long since learned to completely tune it out."

Television - Sedatives for Men

Chris posted The Guys' Rules yesterday, and I thought I would expand on the television-related ones.

Sunday, I asked Chris if he would help me make cookies while Athena was napping. Athena, unfortunately, wouldn't nap... so Chris couldn't really help. Fortunately, Marcus was only mildly fussy, but the television was on... and his bouncy seat was awfully close to the sub-woofer. So I turned it off. There was nothing on anyway, and the damn thing had been on all day.

Chris came down like two seconds after I turned it off, and you won't believe this, but he turned it back on and proceded to flip through all the channels I had JUST flipped through. He, however, found something to watch... BlackHawk Down.

Now, it's bad enough that he can't participate in the cookie-making as he has to make regular trips upstairs to corral the tot. But then he selects a war movie. I don't like war movies, personally, and I don't think they are appropriate for the children. Within a minute, Chris had to go back upstairs to tend to Athena, and I turned the TV back off. One never knows if Chris will return from upstairs... the computer may lure him into her evil web and he could be up there for an hour. I wasn't about to watch people get shot up while trying to enjoy my cookie dough and appease a cranky 2-month-old.

He returned rather quickly (Ms. Computer was apparently not so intriguing) and immediately asked, "Why is this off?" while gesturing at the TV.

Not only is this an absurd question... after all... televisions aren't known to turn themselves off... but wtf? Can we not exist in a room without television for two minutes?

Presents and Cake

Back to Reality, Oop! There Goes Gravity...

So I've been doing well with this whole mommy thing. Yes, there were the (insert "H" word here) and there is the fact that sometimes Marcus sleeps when you expect him to and sometimes he doesn't, but I've been getting out, running errands, seeing friends, and generally keeping busy. I thought it wouldn't be long before I'm actually planning and preparing meals and managing the household and several other SuperMom things. But alas...

Last night, Chris took me out for an adults-only, just-us evening while my blessed (and if she keeps this up, I'm nominating her for sainthood) mother-in-law watched the rugrats. We left with Athena bawling her eyes out and Marcus only tentatively asleep in his swing. I felt horribly guilty, but not guilty enough to turn back.

Our evening was lovely and included good food and wine. We talked and laughed and used profanity freely without worry of a two-year-old parroting it back to us. We ate without wondering if our toddler would chew or spit out her food (or both). We enjoyed all of our own food without someone much shorter and cuter than us reaching over to our plates and demanding, "Some?!" And we conversed without ever raising our voices at each other, neither from anger or from trying to be heard over the increasingly loud shrieks of the harpie we call our daughter.

And we even got to enjoy some quiet time upon arriving home. Everyone was asleep and still. Until about an hour after we returned...

When Marcus awoke, it was clear that he was VERY stuffy. I had to suction out his nose with an implement we call "The Mucous Molester" because he can't blow his tiny nose himself. This instrument looks a lot like the bulb of a turkey baster, and the little turkey baster part is short and narrow enough to just fit into his nostril. You literally suction out the snot. It's one of the more glamorous parts of being a parent, trust me. At first you feel very cruel doing it, but then the relief it brings him is so worth it, you want to do it all the time. Granted, HE doesn't want you to do it all the time, but it's tempting.

Anyway, his stuffiness (at least I assume that's what it was) made him fratchy all night, and I got very little sleep. This morning, I had a 9am dentist appointment, so I took Athena to school and headed over for my once-a-quarter torture. (I go so often because I have a family history of gum disease and I would like to keep my teeth, thank you very much). Chris watched Marcus, but didn't expect my appointment to take an hour (Does anyone get out of the dentist faster than an hour? Nevermind, if I know that about you, I will then have to hate you.), so he got jumpy to get into work. He decided to meet me at a shopping center to do the great baby trade so he could get to work even faster.

I immediately assumed that it was because Marcus was being difficult, as I have really never known Chris to be anxious to get to work. In fact, at first I thought perhaps someone at work had died or had gone postal to make him want to go in so badly. But when he handed me our bundle of joy, he said Marcus had been wonderful and he just needed to get in and get things done. I can sympathize with that, so Marcus and I headed to Old Navy to kill time. His sister needs summer clothes anyway.

In the parking lot, Marcus made it clear he was hungry, so I nursed him in the front seat of the car. I've done this millions of times, so it went well and I was careful to use strategically placed burp cloths as my son has come by the Superhero nickname "The Dribbler" quite honestly. All was well, and in 15 minutes, he was in the front pack and we were inside shopping.

15 minutes later, we were out, and I found myself with a half hour to kill with a wide-awake baby before I met a group of my sorority sisters for lunch. I considered Target, and I considered BJ's Warehouse, but Marcus seemed hungry again, so instead, I found a secluded parking space and nursed again. This took me up to about 10 after 11 (20 minutes before my lunch date) and I was considering what to do to kill 20 minutes when I realized my strategic placement of burp cloths had NOT worked this time, and a great deal of the front of my shirt and my shorts were covered in milk. I wondered briefly if he actually ate ANY of the milk or if he just sprayed me with it while I wasn't paying attention.

Now, I haven't seen any of these women that were to be at the lunch in at least 15 years, and some I had never met. It was a meeting of the alumni club, which I keep meaning to participate in and keep not participating. There was NO WAY I was going into The Olive Garden looking like I had run through a sprinkler with eyes that had bags large enough under them that I would have been charged the oversize surcharge had I been trying to board a plane. So I sighed and bailed.

Upon returning home, Marcus didn't really want to sleep, but I forced him as I really DID want to sleep. We napped for about an hour, and he woke me up by butting his head against my chest like a demented soccer player. (This means "I'm hungry. Feed me you cruel wench!") He ate and dozed off, and now I can't sleep. *sigh*

The good news is, his sniffles seem to be better. I know how he got them, as just the other day, Athena was standing over him and coughing right in his face as if to say, "Here are my germs. I am sharing them with you because sharing is the right thing to do. It means I love you." Thanks, kid.

In Praise of a Good Husband

My husband is awesome. Yes, I complain about him from time to time. Like this morning at five when I discovered (a little too late I might add) that once again he had used the remaining toilet tissue and not replaced the roll. But, for the most part, Chris is absolutely wonderful. I praise him today because he gave me a gift that I didn't think I would get for another few months. He gave me a very good night's sleep.

This is an especially challenging gift for the father of a breastfed newborn to give. After all, when the boy gets hungry, dad can't really feed him... and if he DOES give him formula, then I have to wake up and pump or else my upper torso turns to stone. However, Chris did everything he could to ensure that I could sleep.

First, when we got home from the hockey game, he offered to take Marcus and hold him so I could go lie down. That was about 10:30. At 12:30, he brought him upstairs to eat. I got two whole quiet hours of sleep. I went back to bed around 1:30, and didn't wake again until 5. When I went to bed, Marcus was asleep in his swing. When I woke up, he was lying in bed between us. I imagine he must have stirred during the night, but Chris got him before I even woke up and calmed him. 3.5 hours of uninterrupted sleep! HOORAY!

I feel like a new woman today. It's glorious. And it's all thanks to my wonderful husband. You rock, honey!

Can It Be a Tradition If It Only Happens Twice?

Today, we are making chocolate chip cookies. This is a post-pregnancy "tradition" for me, as you are not allowed to eat raw eggs while pregnant. Obviously, this isn't a huge problem, as most people don't want to chug raw eggs unless they are training for the Heavyweight title. However, raw eggs are in chocolate chip cookie dough AND chocolate mousse. Living without BOTH these things for nine months is just awful. At many restaurants, you can find chocolate mousse in which they have heated the eggs enough to kill any nasties, so you can get by, but real cookie dough... well, you just have to eat it right out of the mixer...

So, Chris is making the cookies while I "teach." He has recently taken a strong interest in cooking, as he has discovered he has a bit of a talent for it AND he is a control freak... so now he can control his food. As a fellow control freak, I can respect that, although I have warned him that he better treat my kitchen and all my kitchen toys with respect, or I'm giving him the boot!

Making the cookies was clearly destined to happen today. Both kids are sleeping AT THE SAME TIME! I believe if this happens twice more, it will signal Armageddon, so I will keep you posted in case you need to repent really quick.

So here we ware, at a time where we should probably both be napping, we are baking and enjoying raw cookie dough. YAY! Can life get any better?

Valentine Schmalentine

I know it's totally unoriginal to hate Valentine's Day. Many people do. After all, it's a crappy little Hallmark holiday that has COMPLETELY lost it's attachment to the Saint for which it is named. Sure, he gets a cursory mention in most elementary school classes, but no one ever really remembers the story. They just remember "flowers," "chocolate," and "romance."

Now, I have nothing at all against flowers, chocolate and romance. I'll take any of those things anytime anywhere. EXCEPT on Valentine's Day. To me, romance is spontaneous (although often planned) and heartfelt. How on EARTH can anything be romantic on a day where everyone is EXPECTED... nay FORCED to be romantic? There is no logic here, people. And flowers and chocolate cost twice as much this time of year to boot. Bah, humbug.

So I have adamantly declared a ban on V-Day in my home for years. In fact, the results of this ban have only proven how unromantic a holiday it is. The guy I dated just before I met Chris gave me flowers on Valentine's Day even after I told him not to and explained, in detail, why I don't celebrate it. When I asked him why he got me flowers when I told him not to, he told me that he thought I was just testing him. *sigh* And honestly, he was probably smart to do that, because I am sure there are several thousand women who would have really tested him in that way. I, however, broke up with him instead.

But now I ask you... I have a daughter. My dad always gave us candy hearts and stuffed animals on Valentine's Day when I was growing up... and I did appreciate it. Because anything coming from my dad was wonderful and heartfelt and meaningful, even if it was on a cheesy day of the year. It always brightened my day when he did that. So I wonder, should I ease up on the V-Day ban next year? Or maybe even this year? Should I encourage Chris to get his daughter a little something so she won't ever doubt herself on V-Day? Part of the reason I hate it so much is because it is so horrible on folks who don't have a sweetheart. Why should someone who is already lonely be made to feel even more so? So is my ban actually selfish? Should I be more open to the holiday for my daughter's sake?

What do you think? Help me out here.

Depression

It is a well-known fact that pregnancy leads to moodiness. How can it not, really? You are bringing another human being into the world and you will be expected to shape and mold it and turn it into a fine citizen. Or at the very least, The President of the United States. No pressure, folks.

It is also a well-known fact that women are generally moody. It's those hormones of ours. They do weird things to the brain. Some of us are worse than others, but few women can claim that they have never experienced a random, unexplainable mood swing.

And finally, it's a well-known fact that only women can be pregnant. Is this a recipe for disaster or what?! Take a person who is by nature moody, and throw a parasitic creature into her abdomen. Then tell her she has no more than nine months to prepare for its arrival and then she will need to become the perfect mother (while remaining the perfect partner in many cases). How is it that we don't simply explode from the hormonal mood swings while pregnant?!

So I have now entered moody hell. I am less than two months away from what I am sure will be beyond life-changing, and I am not really ready to welcome it. Just in the past 24 hours, I have come to realize that I may miss a huge opportunity at work (the kind of opportunity that only knocks once and could actually ensure your entire future success) because I would have to commit to a three-day workshop starting March 28. With a due date of March 21... I simply cannot make that commitment. This makes me angry, and then guilty that I'm angry.

I have also learned that I may well have to interview for a job I really want while in labor and delivery, due to the timing of when the job will probably post and close. Another topper is that there is another job opportunity kind of knocking around my front door that offers a much higher compensation, but will once again put me back in the position of making $15K or more less than a peer. I did that once, and although this peer will actually be competent... I just can't degrade myself like that again. So what might have offered us at least a year or so of financial stability may fall apart just because of my pesky principles. (I only say a year or so because the company I would work for is doomed. Literally. The writing is on the wall. I would be boarding a sinking ship).

As if all this weren't overwhelming enough, I've learned that my husband has been making assumptions about how I feel about something that is important to both of us, and now that I know how he thinks I feel, he doesn't even really want to talk about it. This is his right, of course, but it makes me wonder how many assumptions I've made about his feelings that may be wrong. And that, folks, is just depressing.

For instance, I may be just assuming he doesn't want to talk about it. I asked him if we could, but he didn't answer. Perhaps he didn't even hear me. I suppose that will get cleared up when he reads this, anyway.

If there is one thing I hate about people... it's that we assume way too frequently because, quite honestly, it's easier, and we are totally wrong about 90% of the time. I pride myself on checking assumptions and trying to be sure I am using valid information rather than guesses, and yet I rarely seem to ACTUALLY check assumptions. I sort of assume that I have made the right assumptions. The word "ass" isn't prominent in "assumption" for nothing, people. I am living proof.

Don't let this post get you down. After all, that's the great thing about moodiness... if you don't like the current mood here, just wait 20 minutes... it will change.