Before

I like to do things backwards. I like to start off big and then come back to the small things. It doesn't make the best business sense, but I'm a chemist, not a business person. 

For instance, most women become mothers after they have been wives.  Not me!  Yes, Miss Valedictorian and Full-Ride College Scholarship got knocked up before I got married.  Shocker, right?  It seriously was.  My then boyfriend (we weren't even engaged!) and I were having a few problems. A semi-long distance relationship and a jealousy streak rocked us a bit.  For me to focus on school and maybe live a little, I had planned on breaking up with him the next weekend I was home from UK.  Turns out the reason why I couldn't lose weight and I had to take a nap every day was from the pregnancy hormones.  A positive test the Wednesday before I was going to break the news stopped me from doing so. 

It was so fucking hard to realize this.  As a person that grew up with two parents that bickered constantly and fought every single night whether they were married or not, I had resigned myself to never getting married, let along bring children into the mess.  I was in the middle of my junior year of college and here I was, with a growing belly and no ring on my finger. 

Alex proposed to me the next Friday while we were at the Kentucky Horse Park under the Man of War statue.  It was actually very romantic.  We've been married for three years so obviously it's working so far.  By the way, I did not get married while I was pregnant. I was not going to share my wedding dress with my son.  How embarrassed would he have been?

I continued to go to school at UK, but had to quit my job as a resident advisor.  I got an apartment in a trashy part of town for a few months then moved back home.  I commuted to UK (about an hour and a half drive) two days a week.  I took a nap in my car and tried my best to fit in the tiny college desks.  Do you know how excruciating it is to sit for 50 minutes when you have forty extra pounds of water and baby resting on your bladder and hips?  And watching the thin sorority girls that you used to look like, walk past you and not meet your eyes?  The boys that would laugh watching you try to scoot into a desk?  It wasn't exactly the easiest time, but it was my fault that it happened.  I wasn't blaming anyone besides myself. 

The hardest thing about it was being different.  For the first time, I stood out in a crowd. I was the little white girl with a huge belly whose ankles were so bloated, she was embarrassed to sit down for fear her cankles would show.  I had an identity crisis.  People saw the beach ball, not me.  They saw the ring, but didn't see the wedding band.  Everyone was judging, weren't they?  I was a pitiful mess.

Then, Xander came into my life.  I gave birth to a HUGE little boy and he was mine to love and to take care of and fuck everyone that judged, I was a MOTHER! My belly may not be a six pack and flat, but I've got stretch marks, a big fat scar, and a pooch that tells everyone that I gave up my body to bring my vibrant and extremely energetic son into this world. 

I finished school with reasonably good marks and graduated with my chemistry degree.  I did it as best as I could because I wanted to provide for my son.  And for his little sister that we found out about 11 months after Xan was born. 

I don't think being a mother is easy at any point in life.  It was, however, the best thing that has ever happened to me.  It made me reorganize my priorities and work harder for things that needed to happen.  Would I be in the job that I'm in right now, own two cars and a house, and be able to afford to start my own  business on the side?  I know that I wouldn't be in this position.  My son changed my life and I'll be forever grateful to him.

That's why I will wipe his butt until kingdom come. I love you, Xander. 

Why Can't My Husband Think Ahead?

Is it really difficult to think about what might happen in the future?  I mean, Harold Camping had the foresight to think that if the rapture didn't happen on May 21st, then how would he go about keeping the money that people had given him?  "Oh, we'll just move this rapture thing back a few months," he thought.  Simple.  If a fucking crazy idiot like Harold can do it, then my intelligent and young husband can do the same.  Well, SHOULD be able.

I'm allowed to rant, so if you seriously do not want to hear this, then you may move on.  You get a 'get out of jail free' card, to use the over-used monopoly expression.

This week has been a truly crazy week.  My online blanket business - sewchem.etsy.com - has consistently gotten at least one sale a day for this month (which I think is pretty awesome!), so on top of trying to keep the house relatively clean and the laundry at least washed and dried, I'm trying to do at least three blankets per night.  Now let's throw into the mix my favorite (and only) girly nurse cousin, Lindsay, coming home after being away for 8 months in Washington at a military base, her bachelorette party, and her wedding this Saturday (four hours away!).

Knowing how nuts this week was going to be, I set out a schedule of things that needed to be accomplished by Friday morning when we would leave for the wedding.  Blankets until Wednesday, bachelorette party Thursday and pack after that.  I offered to be the DD for the Bach. party, so I needed to clean out  my van.  Hubby owes me a favor so I ask him to clean it out Wednesday night after the coming-home party.  Note: I sent a text Wednesday and I asked him *straight to his FACE* if he would do it for me that SAME night. 

He didn't do it. 

I bought him a phone Wednesday so that he would stop complaining about it his current one and he had to look up every single YouTube video about how to work his new cell phone (he doesn't have it yet, mind you).  I cleaned out the van on my lunch hour the following day and did not get to eat.  So, yes, I'm a bit beyond pissed at this point.

I send him a text and the convo goes as follows (I don't use proper punctuation when I'm upset):

Me: Thanks for cleaning out the van last night
Him: Really.  I am doing it tonight.
Me: I asked you to do it last night
Him:  We were at your freaking mom's until after nine.  I didn't feel like vacuuming the car in the dark with all of the bugs eating me alive.
M: That is ok.  I did it during my lunch hour and didn't get to eat
H: Well that is your fault. Sorry I didn't do it late last night. I was going to do it today after work.  Thanks for being patient.

OH MY FUCKING GOD.  If it was legal to kill my husband, I would so fucking do it at this point. I was livid.  Livid!  I wanted to go Kung Fu Panda on his testicles and shove a pineapple up his ass.  Then throw him into a pit of hyenas after cutting his wrists with razor blades.  Have you ever felt that kind of anger and hatred towards someone that you're supposed to love?  No? Just me.  Ok then.

Apparently, he had forgotten that I was DD.  If I had just reminded him (a third time), he would have done it. 

And then, to top it all off, we didn't get home from the bachelorette party until after midnight.  I still have to pack the kids' clothes and steam my dress for the wedding.  Guess who's asleep on the couch with the TV still on and NONE OF HIS CLOTHES PACKED?  Could it be my husband?  Could it be that he didn't think ahead to the weekend where he would need clothes and shoes and toiletries and all of that good stuff when we would be 400 miles from our house?  I had to work at 7 in the morning and wouldn't have time to pack or do anything because I was leaving straight from work to go to the wedding city.  It had to be done that night.

He called me irrational for being upset because I didn't tell him to do it.  I didn't tell him to pack his clothes for the weekend that we would be away.

If I'm in prison for the next few lifetimes, you'll understand why.

Men, I know you hate when women nag at you to do things.  That's why I made a vow to never do that to my husband.  I did not want to be the nagging wife.  Yet, if I don't, he'll never get anything done or accomplish anything that doesn't involve his motorcycle, mowing the lawn, or organizing his workshop.  How do I approach him to do the things that need to get done?  I've had this conversation/argument with him before.  I've asked him nicely to do things and it works for a few days but continually slopes back to where he does nothing.  I'm tired.  I can't do it.  I have to make a list of things for him to do and I don't want to.  Why can't he just KNOW what needs to be done? 

Hello, Mom

My mother has found my blog.  It's all over for me, people. 

I came into the house yesterday after work and she came up the stairs, half-laughing and half-crying.  I wasn't sure what to think and then this tumbles out of her mouth..."I found your blog."

Well, shit.

I'm happy to know that I have at least one reader, though. 

Mom, thank you for everything that you've done for me since I was born, including nursing me, teaching me to sew, and driving me to swimming, academic team, winterguard, softball, marching band, jazz band, pep band, and everything else I was involved in.  You're my homey-g-dog and I love you.  Hopefully that makes up for everything stupid I said about you.  Forgive me and I'll buy you an Emerson's cake.  M'kay?  Okay!