The Wait

I know, it’s been quite a while since my last blog.  But since this is my journal and I am the only one who reads it, who cares?  Right?

We are on month 5 of the attempt to create a dynamic person.  It’s hard waiting for it to happen.  But all good things come to those who wait.  Isn’t that the saying?  Surely the person that came up with that statement was intelligent.  That statement was probably created by Gandhi or the Dali Lama or Mother Theresa.  Someone that knew the meaning of life and could easily throw advice to anyone feeling stress.  But unfortunate for me, I don’t know them.  And I don’t have the patience of a person that would accept this advice and walk calmly though life chanting those words.  So we’ll continue the positive thoughts and slight irrationalities and hope for the best.

Speaking of irrationalities, I have Googled options from adoption to artificial insemination.  While adoption can clearly be the more expensive option it has its good attributes.  You’re giving a home to someone who might not get a good home and you’re not continuing the over-population issue.  But I get hung up on the details.  I don’t get to experience my own child growing within me and I don’t get to pass on mine and Damon’s genetic qualities.  Believe it or not, I want to experience the pregnancy as well as the pain of labor.  I want that to be a part of me that I can sacrifice for my child.  So that brings us to artificial insemination. While this is less costly ($300-$500 per treatment) I have to ask myself how far am I willing to go for our potential child.  The truth is I am willing to go through just about anything.  If I feel the love I feel for Taylor with a child of my own, I’d sell my kidney for it.  Taylor means the world to me and I would do anything on earth to reverse time and get to see her from infancy to where she is now.  To get to hold her in my arms when she has a belly ache or when she’s had a bad dream.  For a child to crawl up in my lap and wrap her arms around me and call me mama.  What would that feel like?  I can’t imagine.

I am so lucky to have gotten to meet her when I did.  Since age 7, when we met, she has really made my life worth while.  She is in my thoughts all day.  Wishing she were closer as well as being thankful I get to be in her life.  She’s an extraordinary kid and I am lucky she loves me.  Sometimes I can see how hard it is for her.  I am sure it’s confusing having a woman in your dad’s life that wants nothing more than to love her as a child of my own.  But she has a mom.  And at times I think she’s torn about how close she can get to me.  But as she’s growing into a young woman, I see her getting more and more comfortable with me.  When we’re together, occasionally, she’ll lean her head against my shoulder and relax.    She’ll wrap her arms around my waist without thinking about it.  Those are my favorite.  When she is so comfortable that she’ll just grab a hold of me.  I make sure to love on her as often as I think she might be comfortable with and times when she’s not expecting it.  I kiss her beautiful head and tell her how wonderful she is.  She’ll begin to get to a point to where her appearance will matter to her and I want to make sure she is aware of how precious she is to me.  My greeting to her, a lot of time, is “Hey Gorgeous” or something along those lines.  She really and truly is an attractive, sweet hearted, kind child.  Soon to be adult.  I can’t wait for her and my future together.  I can’t wait to see how we’ll have teenager conversations about what’s going on with her friends and boys.  I’m excited to see her grow.  But I am so scared at the same time.  I don’t want her being touched by the world.  She has an innocence that kids her age are losing.  I don’t want her friends to hurt her feelings or boys to break her heart.  I would love to shield her under my arm until she becomes an adult.  But that doesn’t make a strong person.  I have to let her experience hurt.  But I don’t have to accept it.  I will pummel the first boy who touches her.  Without a doubt.

Damon and I are doing great.  I have started to go to the gym as well as beginning to work on an ab machine that we bought.  I told him that he will have a babe of a wife by Summer.  He’s doing great at his job.  Whatever he invests in will be successful and done with an expertise that only he possesses.  He has this ability to accomplish anything.  My job is going well too.  I just got an offer for a promotion and gladly accepted.  This company has treated me so well the past 8 years, how could I not continue to give back?

I know my rants at infertility are impatient and irrational.  But these are the thoughts of an impatient and irrational person.  Obviously anything Damon and I do will be as a team and since I have him, will be successful.  This is just a place to voice those crazy thoughts.  I got an email yesterday from a customer I used to work with.  He had one sentence in his email that had 51 words.  I feel like that is the theme behind this blog post.  On and on and on I go.

Below is a picture of how kitty killed Christmas!  LOL – It’s hard to keep a cat out of a tree.  Our 15 pound cat ignored all reason and here are the results:

Ninja Meepers napped on the tree!

Ninja Meepers napped on the tree!

New Life Roles Please

So why can’t the husband be in charge of finding out we’re pregnant?  No I am not currently preggers.  Stop hyperventilating.  It should be different.  The roles would be the same, the chick carries the peanut for 8-9 months and goes through all the pain and gain.  But why not change it to where the husband gets to know first.  Then he thinks of an adorable way to tell the wife that she’s going to be exhausted for the next 9 months + 18 years.  Don’t get me wrong.  I am beyond the silly kind of excited about getting preg and having a baby.  I want this more than anything.  But the questions that come around when you are trying are freaking me out!  I’m currently battling a cold.  I got all spazzo at the idea of “What if…..”.  You know, What if I am preg and I take the wrong meds or What if I am preg and my cell phone usage gives me a tumor???  It’s ridiculous and completely irrational, but those thoughts do pass through my noggin.  After I stew about those questions for a bit I usually will come to my senses and act like a grown up.  Usually.

Things are going well otherwise.  Like I said, I am battling a cold.  It’s funny how differently people handle being sick.  My rough tough husband will proceed with his days like normal, just a little more grouchy.  I on the other hand need sleep.  My body reboots and I feel better.  But it usually takes a couple of days for that to happen.  When I don’t feel good, I want to lay on the couch cuddled up to my pillow and sleep and watch movies.  It might be mind over matter, but I really do feel better when I take this approach.  I have a feeling that my other half doesn’t appreciate this procedure of vegging and being a whine-bag.  We  enjoy spending time together.  Honestly.  We actually like to be around each other.  But he cannot veg.  He is constantly moving and thinking and thinking and moving.  He’s very intelligent and he needs to be mentally stimulated.  I appreciate that quality every day of our lives together.  He’s my best friend, and when I am sick, I just want to snuggle up to him and coast through the day.  There is no mental stimulation for him when Dancing with the Stars is on or Duck Dynasty.  And I can’t focus enough to play a computer game and enjoy it while sitting upright.  So we compromise.  He plays on his PC and I lay on the couch watching junk TV.  5 out of 7 evenings I am in the office with him.

Taylor is turning 11 in less than 2 weeks.  What on earth will I do when she turns 16???

Blankets and Boogers

I finished Taylor’s blanket!  I can’t believe I started a project and completed it in the same year.  (Insert shock and awe here).  She was really happy with it, which made my heart melt.  She spent the weekend wrapped up in it and keeping it away from the cat.  I couldn’t be more proud.  She’s an extraordinary child.  I made it large enough for her to curl up in with some to spare.  But she is content with folding it in half and wrapping it around her. 

My little burrito

Booger is never far behind on the pictures!  Let’s talk Booger for a minute.  This pooch has a huge piece of my heart.  When I got him I was living alone in a two bedroom apartment.  I was single, broke and working 2 jobs.  I worked at Outdoor Cap as well as at the office of the apartment complex.  Luckily, the boss I had at the apartments was wonderful.  They are rare to find.  I asked her if she would work with me on the pet deposit because I wanted to get a puppy.  She allowed me to make payments.  Once I had that paid, I started a short search for small dogs.  I saw an ad in the paper for a breeder who had an accidental litter and needed to sell them asap.  I snagged my friend Tina, and the little nest egg I had saved up and we went to meet her puppies.  She introduced me to the females of the litter and one male.  They were all skinny, timid and shaking.  She had mentioned that there was one more male getting a bath.  I wasn’t wowed by the girls or the one boy.  The breeders son brought out the 2nd boy.  He came running down the hall of her house, ran into the wall, shook it off and ran around again.  While he was playing, he ran into our feet several times showing that he wasn’t the most intelligent of the litter.  He was chubby and fluffy and I knew he was the one instantly.  He was certainly the most aggressive eater because he was a rolly polly!  I paid my $200 and took him!  We hung out at Tina’s for a while and let him roll around and play.  While thinking of names, Tina joked that he was a little ‘Booger’.  Bam.  That was it.  She thought I was nuts, but I named him Booger.  He was perfect.  Easy to potty train, fun to play with and an expert cuddler.  He came at a time when I was at my lowest.  It was around my birthday and I had only a lonely outlook on life.  He filled that hole in me almost instantly.  My boss at the apartments allowed me to bring him to work with me.  He followed me around the clubhouse not paying any attention to anyone else.  I was his mama. 

The day I got him

As you can see in the puppy pics, he used to be brown.  By the time he was a year old he was all silver, white and a smidge black. 

To this day, when I walk into our home and he’s so excited to see me, it lifts all my spirits.  He’s well-behaved doesn’t know a single trick except to lay down, sit and pee outside.  But he’s part of the family.  His smarts haven’t improved, he still runs into things when he gets to playing which makes his personality so hilarious.  My family adores him and is always amazed at how well-behaved and laid back he is.  We had a family dinner a while back and I was sitting on the floor eating.  I set my plate down on the floor too and he just laid beside me and didn’t go near the plate.  Sometimes he shows such discipline.  But I know he loves me and wants me to be proud.

Some folks get a kick out of how much we love our animals.  You may say “It’s just a dog/cat!”  But not ours.  They make our house a warmer place.  They add so much to our personal lives.

The Little Things

There are moments in our lives that I am reminded that I am where I am supposed to be.  I am with the person I am supposed to walk through life with.  It’s not the grand gestures and it’s not the house, the stuff or the fact that he is hot (oh yes, I got me a looker!!).  It’s the creepy way we will text each other at the exact same time.  Or out of the blue I have a sweet note on my bathroom mirror stating nothing but sweet things.  It’s moments when we are on the motorcycle on a cool evening and my hands are holding on to his stomach and he places his arm and hand over both my hands to keep them warm.  It’s when Damon tells me to look away when a part of the movie is on that scares me.  Again, our lives are not always easy.  I’ll say this until I am blue in the face.


Some things come with fighting, some come with crying.  Our life comes with hormones and tempers.  It’s not a safe mixture for either party.  But we have seemed to find our groove.  I am not as sensitive as I used to be and he is getting more patient with my irrational mind than he used to be.  I strongly believe that people change when they are in a relationship.  I think you rub off on each other and take on each others characteristics and learn from mistakes.  That’s change.  The idea is to change and evolve together.  When you change away from each other, then you become different people instead of a couple or a team.  It’s constant work.  And there certainly are days when I am not sure how I will refrain from plucking his thigh hair out, one by one.  I am 100% sure it’s mutual.  I would be an idiot to think that I don’t get on his nerves.  

The Fever

Yes, it’s happening.  I have it.  The Fever (bum bum buuuummmm).  I am getting more and more excited about the idea of Damon and I having a child to hold, love and teach bad habits.  If we make a boy, I want him to be out-going and gross.  I want our boy to out-do Damon’s farts, to play in the mud and to be confident.  Some of those traits I would also like for our girl, especially the farting and confidence.  Above all I want Taylor to be proud of her sibling.  I want her to be excited about teaching the kid stuff and I want her to have someone to talk to and confide in if she needs.  I think every parent wants their child to confide in them directly, but I was a kid once, that’s hard to do sometimes.  We are parents, not friends. 

My buddy Kayla, real name, brought her daughter Parker in this week to work.  She’s 9 months old.  And in my opinion, that is the best baby age!  They giggle, find their toes, and begin saying non-coherent words that you assume are actual words.  So much fun.  Plus when you give them lemons or pickles they make super fun sour faces.  Back to the story…. Kayla lets me hold Parker and I am hooked.  This kid is toxic for someone with baby fever.  She is beautiful, chunky and has the most precious bald head.  I fed her a bottle, snuggled and watched her smile.  It was great.

Parker and I playing


Moving on with the drama that is the rental house.  Damon and I have gotten an estimate on new carpet, had the old carpet ripped up and hired a cleaning company to come in and scrub the yuck away.  I am feeling better and less stressed as the house loses its stink and looks livable.  Next step is painting and installing the carpet.  Then we can hope to rent it out again.  Although this time we will be interviewing candidates ourselves and doing consistent inspections.  Our hope is to do a lease to own contract to where the person is basically buying the home from us.  This is ideal for Damon and I.  It takes the landlord status out of our hands.  My toes are currently crossed for this outcome.  To give you an idea of the state of the adorable home, post-renters, here is a photo of the carpet.  Please don’t hurl on your computer screen.

Living room carpet. Close your eyes and imagine the smell.

In other news, Taylor is coming home to us for the weekend.  I always look forward to her coming.  You just never know what kind of conversations we’re going to have with her.  She’s fantastically curious and asks intriguing questions.  She tries to keep up with conversations and tries to understand.  She is no longer in kid-mode to where she ignores adults when they are talking to each other, so that she can play or goof off.  She listens and is interactive.  She’s changing so much in her personality and we are really starting to see her edge into the pre-teen mode.  If we see media regarding a current pop star cutie (currently Justin Beiber or One Direction) Damon and I will be silly about it.  And she’ll go along with us, then you’ll look over and she is singing along or has her eyes glued to the screen watching them.  I tell her which of the boys I think is cute and this invites her to open up about her own opinion.  We don’t laugh at her when she speaks up.  But I do worry that she won’t be open to the idea of NOT dating until she’s 40 or admitting her to the convent.  I think she is coming around to the idea of letting her daddy and I pick her husband.  She’ll wise up one day and pick her own.  But for now, I like the idea of her thinking her daddy will pummel the first boy who tries to hold her hand. 

On the way to her mom’s last weekend, she and I talked about the future kid we’ll be having.  It’s important to me to keep her in the loop about our plans.  She and I talked about making the baby a blanket.  She’s learned to crochet, so it can be something both of us can work on together.  At this idea, she was ecstatic!  She went on and on about colors and ideas.  She had made the comment that her little sister still has her baby blanket.  So we talked about this blanket that we’ll make being in the family for a long time.  I am almost finished with the blanket I am making for Taylor.  I can’t wait to give it to her.  Pictures to come.


To the movies!

Saturday evening Damon and I took Taylor to the movies.  She and I have been wanting to see “The Odd Life of Timothy Green”.  I knew that there would be tears from me.  And it’s pretty typical that there are deep thoughts from me as well.  In the movie, an old man dies.  But before he does, the little boy sits on the hospital bed with him laughing and talking.  Instantly, the horrible thought enters my head.  I try and try to fight it.  I attempted to pluck eyebrow hair out of my face one at a time to change the topic my mellon was dwelling on.  No-Go.  The thought was there and bringing tears.  “What if my Papa doesn’t get the chance to meet the peanut we’re trying to make?”  That was the magic button.  The tears and silent sobs came freely.  Thank goodness for comic relief later in the movie.  The ride home was sketchy, touch and go with the tears.  A little Taylor and Damon time and I am back to being in Happy Mode.

I am continually reminded that I am with the right person.  It’s been a stressful week.  Our renters decided to be moved out two months early.  We planned to meet on Friday evening.  I get to the rental and they have bailed.  Leaving an almost completely black carpet, flea/gnat infestation and carpet ripped down past the carpet pad in the master bedroom.  Yes, I would have broken down right then and there, but the atmosphere was tummy-rolling inspiration.  I would have heaved had I stayed to cry.  So, I cried in my car.  It was a compromise.  I called the renters several times with threats of calling the police, yadda yadda.  I also sent the yadda comments via text, to no avail.  They are successfully ignoring me.  My guess is that they are avoiding me in shame.  As they should.  While I was having problems not ripping the carpet up at that time due to the rage surging through me, my husband was calm, rational and comforting.  He was amazing.  In keeping with the deal Damon and I made, I will not talk about this situation any more this weekend.

Today, Sunday, Taylor and I had lunch with Mom and Dad at Dixie Cafe.  Yes, people do actually eat there.  It was good.  She and I were amazed at how many folks over 65 that you can pack into that place.  It’s Guinness Book or Ripley’s type numbers, I am sure.  After gumming our food, to keep up with the crowd, we made our way to Bella Vista to make the rounds.  We made the usual stop at my sisters.  Taylor loves going there.  The structure is very different from our house.  It seems to be a breath of fresh air for her.  She starts waving her arms above her head, chanting then running around in a loin cloth.  Ok, she doesn’t really do all that, but she does run and play as much as she possibly can in a 30 minute visit.  I had to vent all my hormonal woes on my sister and funnier still, my poor brother in law.  I had to explain that I cry all the time.  Just getting out of the shower today before Taylor and I left to have fun, I had to fight back the tears. There was no reason.  I AM INSANE.  No joke.  My boobs are too big for my bras, I cry, the physical crap has kicked in, I cry, I cramp, I cry.  IN-SANE.  I feel like a crazy person.  Taylor got to play a little extra today.  I don’t blame her for not wanting to leave with me.  I’m nuts.

I woke up this morning with an origami heart by my head and a note on my desk.  Here is a photo of the note.  Again, love this kid.  Damon had the genius idea to frame it. So Toot and I ran to WM to get a frame.  It now sits on my desk.


Head Bumps and Magic

You’ve seen the new star-burst for WM?  The orange flower?  I saw it today.  Multiple times, in 3-D and in a bunch of different colors.  Where did I see it, you ask?  It was behind my eyes after my massive forehead found the frame of my car door.  I had ducked in to put some soccer craziness in the backseat and apparently I was feeling a little thick-headed.  BAM insert psychedelic black background with fluorescent colored star-bursts and massive crocodile tears.   Damon bought me a chocolate chip frappe to make it better.  Don’t tell him, but it didn’t help the headache, but DANG it sure tasted good.  As you can see the burst below is not WM’s.  I don’t have the money to pay their fines.

Imagine this – blinking and crazy!!!

I’ve got a friend, we’ll call her Kara.  We’re going to call her Kara, cause that’s her name.  It’s ok to laugh.  She tells me that the recipes that she and I pass back and forth should be written somewhere in history.  Since I don’t scrapbook, this might be the only history my family gets.  She is also the friend that recommended the “Sweet”  blog you see to the right of your screens (insert flight attendant pointing here).

So below I will post the best recipe for fall-apart cookies made with loads of butter.  This is not the place to get healthy livin’!  Kara (again, real name is disclosed) says they are ‘angel farts’.  She is so awesome at making people feel great about things.  The truth is, the recipe started with her.  Love her.

I have been watching episodes of Dawson’s Creek.  Call me corny.  Go ahead.  In Junior High or High School (can’t remember back that far), my friends and I would go to Youth Group on Wednesday nights and hustle to someone’s house and put this show on super quick.  Teenagers don’t think rationally.  If they did, learning about Jesus would not have been followed by a teen drama.  I miss the thought process where everything didn’t feel so heavy.  Even the small decisions.  I have found every thought to have massive consequences.  Donut holes for breakfast and wearing granny panties the next day cause your normal ones give you wedgies.  Thanks you dumb donuts!

I have this attraction to old people.  Please stop giggling.  It’s not a creepy attraction.  I think the old and the really really young are the most interesting creations.  Really, stop freaking out.  I am not a creep.  Read on…. I hand write letters to my Gma in TX because I know she appreciates the effort, the news and the humor.  But when she writes back, it just makes that moment more special.  She is a few years shy of 100.  And she’s pretty feisty.  How can you NOT enjoy talking to her??  Then there are the little kids.  I find so much entertainment from listening to their perspective on their environment.  I was around a 4-year-old today that sat on the grass with an umbrella to block the sun.  She felt the need to remind Damon and I she was still under there.  Do you remember that feeling?  If you couldn’t see anything around you, then you must not be see-able?

Recipe time!

  • 1 cup butter softened
  • 1/2 cup confectioners’ sugar
  • 1/4 cup cornstarch
  • 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

Combine all and mix for 10 minutes.  Yes, 10 minutes.  Pre-heat oven at 350, bake for about 15 minutes until edges are golden.  Cool on cookie sheet for 5 minutes, move to rack to continue cooling.  Waaahlllaaa!  (my wand is broken, imagine a cookie appeared)   The last time I attempted these, I added heath bits.  A little extra yummy in the tummy.