Last Post: October 2012. WHAT?!

I don't really even know where to start. I haven't been here in so long. I'm really just trying not to type too loudly (the husband is attempting sleep... he is much better at this than I am)

Let's see...

How about HERE (?)

:

Does this piss anyone else off the same way it does me? Here is the deal: nobody is going to pay me to hang out with my child all day and drink wine/surf Pinterest while he is napping. These are the things I love to do. They aren't exactly marketable... I realize.

I know there are a select few people who DO love what they do... and that's fabulous for them...but I don't love what I do. 99.999998% of the people in my life don't love what they do, either. Most of the time.. I don't even like it. On any given day at my job I'm going to get yelled at, listen to a story about how grandma has died 15 times now and that's why someone can't pay rent until the 33rd of the month, smell smells that nobody should ever have to encounter, deal with non-emergencies that people think are emergencies, balance a non-existent budget and share 1 bathroom with the general public. The general public can be gross.

Yes. I should be thankful. Yes, there are many people who would like my position. Yes. You're right. And I am thankful... because:

This is why I do what I do: 

And I love him. So: THAT is how I make it to work each day - even if I don't love my job. Because I get to come home to this sweet baby boy every night... and he fills my life with joy. The kind I never could have imagined.

Of course... I'll still be on the lookout for that full time Pinterest-surfing/wine-drinking job. Duh.

Disclaimer: I adore (most of) the people I work with - and I'm privileged to have them in my life. I also deeply care about many of my residents. It's been a particularly rough couple of weeks.

Dinner Fail.

It finally happened.

It took three years of marriage. Things were going so well.

I made something for dinner that my husband couldn't eat.

I knew this day would come... but did it have to come while I'm all emotional and 6 months pregnant? DID IT?

Before I realized the extent of my dinner fail, I took a sample bowl of potato disaster in for my sweet, unsuspecting husband to try.

I saw it. As soon as his lips hit the spoon: he had to make a decision. Either eat this "soup" and destroy the lining of his stomach, or tell me the truth. I think he made the right call... because as soon as I tasted the "soup", I prepared to toss ALL of it out. The look in his eye was really priceless, though. He was afraid to tell me. Rightfully so... I mean, I can't blame the guy.

He followed me into the kitchen saying "I'm sorry".  That sweet man was sorry that I screwed up dinner because he knew *I* was upset. He was sorry he couldn't fake it.

This recipe wasn't a slight one. This recipe was going to feed us tonight AND tomorrow: it was enough soup for a family of 12. Equally as frustrating, was the fact that I tore my kitchen up... I used the crock-pot as mentioned (during my lunch break I put the whole thing together), I used a giant pot, the food processor, and multiple stirring/mixing utensils. 

The conversation following my attempt not to cry while standing over my range:

Me: I'm going to Arby's
JD: I can go to Arby's and you can see all the cute trick-or-treaters
Me: I don't want to put a bra back on ::doorslam::

Because I would rather the Arby's employee see me like this.. not the children. Although, it is an evening for freaking kids out.... I don't want to scare them in THAT way.

You know what's hard? Angrily driving away on Halloween. It's tricky to dodge all of the pedestrians with their bags of candy. So I had to angrily drive about 5 miles an hour to get out of my neighborhood. Once I was on the home stretch to Arby's I was going AT LEAST 25.... (Arby's is really just on the outside of our neighborhood).

Pinterest. I blame Pinterest. Sometimes that super easy crock-pot recipe that looks too good to be true really is just that.

So, now my house is basically bursting with garlic scented fumes (not the holiday scented glade plug-ins that I just bought...).... and we had to eat Arby's for dinner. My poor fetus had Arby's for dinner. I don't feel so bad for JD. He loves Arby's.

By the time I got home, JD had cleaned the kitchen. Have I mentioned how great he is? He is really great. I don't know what he did with all of the kitchen paraphernalia so quickly... for all I know the crock pot, giant pot of soup and the food processor are all sitting in the backyard. I don't care: I didn't have to look at it again.

"I know this is silly, but this table isn't for food or drinks"

My disclaimer before I type this whole reconstruction of Luke's birthday party: I have really great neighbors. Not only do I have really great neighbors, but they have really sweet children. Their kids have manners, they play well together - and most importantly (to me): They always welcome Luke during the Summer and holidays as if he has never been away. They are good kids.

I suppose I'm ambitious when it comes to events. I like having people in my home - and I even like getting ready to have people in my home. It makes me happy to have people eating and laughing in my house.

So - I decided to have Luke's birthday party in our home.

We had Luke's birthday party in our home last year... but we didn't really advertise it the way we did this year. This year people were told in advance and even RSVP'd. Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, Grandparents, Friends and Couch Amandas were present - a good group of people.

With the help of Fallon and Couch Amanda - we set up the decorations, the snacks and the banana split bar. Since I'm a Carlile first and foremost - no party is complete without those little smokey weenies (all beef, of course). JD never complains :)

People started arriving and, naturally, I was running behind... but really it was just a matter of pulling food out of the fridge and setting it up - so I was done shortly and got to mingle some. Since I enjoy having people in my home.... something about it is calming to me - I don't get super frantic and I even get to have fun (most of the time).

Soon after everyone got here, we started the line for the banana split bar (which was really more of a sundae bar because I forgot to put the bananas out at first.... whoops). The kids were relatively quiet and contained and, especially with all of the sugar being dumped into their systems, very well behaved.

Then they found the party poppers.

Since the party poppers were my idea - I sort of expected there to be confetti and ribbon everywhere, but this is a birthday party, right? That's okay! Still calm. Still having a good time. Luke is having a great time, so that's all that matters anyway. It totally didn't matter that it looked like Kesha threw up a night out in my living room. Nope.

Following the party poppers and a brief moment where the children disappeared upstairs into Luke's room - Luke opened presents. He really racked up in the present department. I made sure his daddy reminded him to say "thank you" after each gift: which he probably would have done anyway - but a 9 year old at a party opening gifts may forget if he isn't reminded and then his family might be embarrassed. We know he is sweet and thankful, but I want everyone else to know too!

After presents we had cake. I started to get a little uneasy HERE. Mainly because the sundaes seemed to be taking effect, and even the best children with the best manners and the best intentions turn into little evil versions of themselves when loads of sugar are involved. Apparently they missed the table with the little smokies and the cheese dip because they did NOT have any protein in their bodies. Just trust me. Granted, the ones with parents here seemed to stay mostly in check because their parents were hovering...

Luke's Minecraft cake

Making a wish!

So as I watched them shovel more sugar down their throats and become a little more evil - I started recognizing a problem.

Let's pause here and back up a bit. I have a table off the side of my living room (I suppose it's a dining room, but we don't use it as such) that was my great grandmother's. This table is one of my most prized possessions. If my house was to catch fire - first I would gather the people (duh), then the animals... then this table. We don't eat on it because it hasn't been treated... and it's a little rickety....but I love this table. My Aunt Diana gave the table to me after we moved into this house - it immediately became part of the house for me.

THE table

 Soon after the cake cutting, I realized that I forgot to put a fence around this table... nor did I make some kind of bubble device to keep it safe. There were at least 5 cups of koolaid condensating on my grandmother's childhood table. There were several dripping bowls of melted sundaes producing little ice cream rings on my table. I seriously almost stroked out.

I didn't want people to realize how neurotic I really am about this table... so I quietly placed all of the mess producing items in the kitchen. In no particular order. Then I went over to the table and, in my most teacher-like but still nice voice, said "I know this is silly, but this table isn't for food or drinks"... then I made a nervous laugh noise. It was a little uncontrollable. The kids looked at me like I just told them there was an invisible clown in the room making balloon animals - go find him!

Glasses continued to get placed on this table, and at this point my only mission was to keep clearing them off. I wiped all the sticky ice cream rings off the table - they didn't leave terrible marks, but I should probably have this table waxed anyways to keep THIS from happening.

I know... this is really my fault. Why do I have a table in what should be my dining room that you're not allowed to put food or drinks on? Well..... I don't have a good answer - that's just how it is. I didn't want to seem like a total ass and tell everyone at the door not to use that table. I didn't want to make a giant announcement about it. So instead I chose to have a mini-meltdown over it that I HOPE only my husband, and maybe Couch Amanda, could recognize. I know I'm a little uptight. But only about that table. If you spilled red koolaid all over my black/white swirly rug: I would have been TOTALLY FINE. It's just that table that makes me freak out. I should make a t-shirt that says that...

Soon all the kids with parents present left because things were winding down - and the kids that didn't have parents here, I found upstairs with Luke's bow and arrow set - so I sent them home. Clearly it was time.

We still have mounds of birthday cake - and I'm fighting my urge to eat it for brunch.

I'm glad Luke had fun. I'm even more glad that I had help cleaning up (Husband, Fallon, Amanda....).

Next year: His birthday party will be at a location. Where someone else can attempt to control the chaos far away from my great grandmother's table - and then those people will clean up. And I will come home. And hug that table.

The end.

Dress Malfunction

A few weeks ago (or maybe longer...) I had kind of an incident. I'm able to laugh about it now... but previously that was not the case!

Allow me to set the stage: my employer buys our clothes for work... even though I love my own clothes, it has its benefits that they provide them (I never have to wonder what I'm going to wear). On this particular day, I was wearing the black button up dress. It's kind of like a shirt dress (though it is in the trash now...). The dress buttons all the way up and has a sash to tie in front. I actually liked this dress... it looked less "worky" than the rest of our clothes.

kind of like this one.. but not. (I just googled this photo...it's from About.com)

 Apparently this was the kind of day where we were so slammed in the front office, none of us even looked at each other. We were either busy with our heads down working, or talking strangers into living at our community.

I had a young guy come to look for an apartment with his girlfriend. We spent a good 30 minutes together looking at several apartments out on the property... talking, laughing, making it not seem weird that we're all going to look at empty apartments (as long as I've done this... it's still a little uncomfortable to walk into a vacant apartment with a stranger... I can't explain it). It was also a windy day.

When we got back to the office, the guy wanted to step out and take a phone call... his girlfriend went with him, and I decided it was time for a quick bathroom break. As soon as I walked in the bathroom - I saw my exposed lady-bits.

My dress was unbuttoned down past my bra all the way where the sash ties in the middle. I was immediately mortified.

I tried to stand at angles in the mirror to see if maybe they couldn't have noticed....all the while my face bright red. So red. 

They DEFINITELY noticed. I mean... they could have given you details about my bra.

Now, I understand that I didn't like... nip slip them or anything... BUT STILL!!! I flashed these people... in empty apartments... out on a golf cart IN THE WIND, laughing, talking.... oh my gosh....

None of my coworkers had noticed... I hadn't noticed... I quickly buttoned up my dress (which I discovered had a stretched button hole... I need a new dress) - when the two prospects came back in I apologized and explained to them that "that's not how I typically get leases"... there was some more rambling "I'm so sorry... " "I'm a married, modest woman".... "I'm so embarrassed" ... and so on.

The guy went on to tell me that he had noticed but his girlfriend didn't... and he wasn't sure if he should tell me because he thought it might be on purpose. I assured him that it was absolutely not on purpose.. and that in the future he should feel free to tell a victim of stretched button holes!

The least he could have done was tell his girlfriend to tell me... my douche-bag radar immediately went off.

He did lease an apartment with me on the spot.. and moved in that day.

My ego would have been, admittedly, more bruised if he hadn't leased. Don't judge me.

I suppose I was due a flush-myself-down-the-toilet moment.

Last night I was out with my husband.. and this friendly couple + 1 were sitting behind us (it was perfect porch eating/drinking weather, by the way). She was nice enough to ask if I cared that she smoked... which of course I did, but she was nice enough to ask and there was enough of a breeze... I decided I didn't care too terribly bad that she wanted a cigarette.

Right before we left, she came back from the bathroom with her dress tucked into her panties.

For a split second, my sangria splashed brain said "that is hilarious!"... and then I remembered how relieved I would have been if someone had told me about my exposed breasts that windy day... I leaned back and whispered in her ear... she thanked me, corrected the situation.. and her fellow never noticed.

I hope the clothing karma gods saw my act and will behave in the future. Is that how it works? Eh. Probably not. Stupid, stupid stretched button hole.

Chicken and Bananas

I told myself I wasn't going to blog about this....

Several times I said that....

but, I think it's partially the reason I haven't been around much lately - and I've come to terms with the way things have gone... so I don't mind that anyone knows at this point.

6 weeks ago tomorrow I woke up and knew things were different.

I wasn't pregnant anymore.

No, I wasn't very far along... 8 weeks. Long enough to know I was pregnant. Long enough to puke in a Target store. Long enough to make a name list and tell my parents (and his parents). Long enough to have an aversion to chicken and bananas. Long enough to read the books and have hopes and fears about the baby... long enough.

The truth is: we prayed and planned for that baby.

It kind of swept the rug out from under me, so to speak, to lose the pregnancy... as soon as I realized we were pregnant I was in love with that little piece of us (affectionately referred to as "the bean"). The timing couldn't have been more perfect (it seemed).

People typically say the same things in different ways when they hear about a miscarriage (I've found): "oh, it'll happen again for you", "it just wasn't the right time", "I'm so sorry, how far along were you? ::pause for answer:: oh.... " (some people seemed to blow it off... because I wasn't pregnant enough for it to count or something).

I immediately felt disconnected from..... everything. I can't explain why. 

As common as a miscarriage is.... it didn't comfort me at all to know that it happens all the time and that I wasn't alone. That doesn't matter when you lose something that is so incredibly precious.

I watched the pregnant things about me change back to normal quickly... of course if I hadn't told you, it would have been almost impossible to tell that I was pregnant at all...

I had a ton of trouble sleeping, a lot of sadness that progressed to anger... and some guilt was in the mix. Then came the insecurity. Then acceptance.

Now, finally, some peace about it.

It had been a rough month or so - I feel like I'm finally coming out of a funk (JD too....). It was all unexpected and it was difficult to face. Hello, light at the end of the tunnel! So happy to see you!

The silver linings (because you  know I had to find them!) in no particular order:
1 - I won't be super fat pregnant during the hottest, nastiest time of year.
2 - We can save more money (as if we're ever going to be prepared...but, you know)
3 - We have time to finish the house (.... hypothetically. HA!)
4 - I have time to get into better shape - which by the way: I have been doing. Down a dress size since March 14! Back into boot camp!
5 - JD and I have worked through something pretty tough together that we've never had to face before... he is a great husband - and has always been supportive - but things have evolved for us recently... in a way I couldn't have expected.
6 - I have more time to ponder natural birth vs pain killers and giant needles.... although I think the choice is clear...(ouch!)
7 - It's served as a wake up call... I'm a bit of a control freak... and it's just unrealistic to continue to be that way. Besides, maybe I wasn't prepared. Who knows. I know I don't know.... and I suppose that's the point.
8 - I can eat both chicken AND bananas again. Only if the chicken is thin, though.

To the couple of friends who knew and helped carry us during that experience: thank you so much... I never could have functioned without you.

What if I hadn't asked?!

 I asked for her.


Something I regretted immediately after she arrived.

I, at four or five years old, asked for a baby sister. No brothers, please - I already had one of those.

I remember my parents telling me that I had a sister on the way.... although looking back, I wonder if they even KNEW she was a girl, or if they were too afraid to tell me that there was a possibility it was a boy... You see, I got my way back then. And... most of the time now. It's a long-standing trend.

I asked them how she got in there.. "we prayed for her" is the answer I remember - and I think that's a pretty spectacular way to explain to a four or five year old that a baby is on the way... it wasn't even a lie.

While Momma was pregnant with Leanna, people brought gifts. Gifts for me AND the baby. I had that "big sister" t-shirt... I was "prepped" for the arrival of baby sister. I could tell something big was about to happen (even as a child you can comprehend that when people speak to you with their heads cocked to the side - they are nervous about how you're feeling)- but I didn't understand what the big deal was. I didn't really understand all of the gifts, either - but it wasn't all that unusual for people to show up at our house with treats for me.

Then she got here.

Then I understood why people were talking to me with their heads cocked to the side and an inflection in their voice.

I was one pissed off 5 (almost 6) year old.

My Aunt Diana somehow got voted to take care of me for the first few days (weeks? I don't know... I was 5) after Leanna and Momma came home from the hospital. I say voted because I was catching on to how things were going to go... and I was kind of a pill.

Now... things you should know about Aunt Diana (Garage Sale Julie's mom. pronounced: Dinah... as in.. someone's in the kitchen with...) - she is loving, dramatic, sweet and can be very sarcastic.

Obviously after my parents brought Leanna home from the hospital and I wasn't able to see my mother every second that I wanted to like previously (she was exhausted and taking care of a newborn, after all), and Aunt Diana was there to comfort me... which she did, for the most part. I imagine this is how it went though...from my blurry little memory:

I would wake up in the wee hours of the morning wanting my Momma... Aunt Diana would sing me back to sleep, scratch my back and talk to me about Leanna....I would wake up again, and she would do something else sweet and kind and I would doze off.... around the third time, she started messing with me. This is how: I would start crying.... she got one of those devices used to measure liquid medicine for children and started "measuring my tears" so the next morning we could "see how upset I was" or some crap like that. Real smooth, Aunt Diana. I know she was just sleepy. She and I are actually a whole lot alike NOW... but then, I did not think she was humorous AT ALL. Giant alligator tears followed her measuring joke.

After the baby came, the gifts slowed down. Not cool. My world was rocked. You see, I was kind of like an only child with a bonus: I had (have) an amazing big brother - but he was off to college by the time I was three... so that house was MINE. I was kicking myself for allowing this to happen. What was I thinking? Shouldn't I have just gone to get a doll? Good grief.

There was a pivotal moment in my relationship with Leanna... she was somewhere between 3 and 6 months when I decided I should probably get over myself and start trying to like her. Apparently they were going to keep her... so....

I had a little camera... disposable, I believe, and asked Mom to take our picture in the front yard holding some teeny version of the American flag. I was holding the baby and the American flag. Clearly I wanted to work things out.. I was playing nice... I wasn't even thinking about taking her back to the hospital and leaving her there with some other family. I MUST find these photos.

Leanna is absolutely one my best friends. Nobody else knows me like her.... and vice versa. Having a sister is like having a built in BFF. We've been attached since, well, that day in the yard with a mini-flag (in my head). Of course, we had some growing pains... somewhere while I was 13 and she was 7ish things got hairy, but for the most part - we've been living happily in sisterhood.

All of this made me consider (after I was old enough to recognize these kinds of things...) how hard it must have been on our brother when I was born. If it was hard, he hasn't ever said anything.... but, he wouldn't :) Plus, he used me as a chick magnet for a while - so things turned out okay for him.

ONE DAY I plan to live closer to both of them... we're only about 5 hours apart right now... but that's just too far.

Ghosts? Oh, I don't know about that :)

Three things you should know before reading the rest of this post:

1 - I don't dig Halloween. I don't do haunted houses, or scary movies or even STORIES.... although, I do like candy.

2 - I love Valentine's day. It isn't just a Sweetheart day to me... it is my Grandma's birthday... it is my Mother-in-Law's birthday... my parents always gave me valentine's growing up... my first boyfriend had a mom sweet enough to teach him to send flowers - so early on I liked this day... I guess I'm typical: give me candy, flowers, jewelry... and in the case of this year: a new mattress... and yes, I'm happy. The cheese that comes along with this holiday doesn't bother me at all. Truthfully: the husband and I, we're cheesy people.

3 - I like old buildings and antiques. Sometimes these items come with stories, I realize.

     So last weekend, we took a little getaway to Eureka Springs. Eureka is a lovely spot... lots of good shopping (antiquing), eating (and drinking), and some really pretty Victorian homes. I LOVE it there. It's beautiful and in the mountains... I could have stayed if it weren't for that whole job thing that I have going on. The husband and I really needed a weekend away - and we happen to be fond of Eureka. We packed up our clothes, a couple of good bottles of champagne, and gloves - because on Saturday the high was in the 20's. Left a few hours early from work.... and we arrived in time to enjoy the night. It's only about a 4 hour drive.

 

Spring St, Eureka Springs, AR. LOVE!

     I don't think I realized this when I made the reservation: but The Crescent (our hotel for the weekend) is kind of known for being haunted. It's really neat - built in 1886... it was, some time in the early 1900's, run by some doctor who claimed to cure cancer. The bottom line: people probably died there. So they have a "ghost tour" and claims of frequent sightings.

The backside of the hotel. Pretty, hmm?

By the fire in the lobby

      Now, I don't necessarily have to buy into these stories or claims to be freaked out: I NEVER even let my ears hear things like this... I'm a weenie. I don't care what you think.

   We're about half a bottle of champagne in when I realize that a ghost tour is going on right outside of our door. Naturally, I listened with my face against the door and one eye glued to the peep hole. A group of about 15 people being led by a woman in Victorian era garb talking about how the room RIGHT NEXT TO US was a doctor's office (Dr. Ellis). She said something like this: "something something something, sometimes Dr. Ellis is seen walking into his office and often guests can smell his cigarettes (hotel is non-smoking), something something something doesn't have to open the door"..... THAT is when I give my husband the stink eye as to say "WHY ARE WE HERE?"... but RIGHT THEN, when I took my face away from the peep hole, that old door shook a little.... just a little. I look out again to see at least 6 cameras pointed at my door and a woman exclaiming "THAT DOOR JUST MOVED!! TAKE A PHOTO MAYBE WE'LL SEE AN ORB".... then they all took photos. 

     I tried so hard not to laugh... but called JD over to look at the fools. I mean, I was glad to be a part of their ghost tour and all, but the whole thing made me feel much better about staying in a "haunted" hotel. He looked out of the peep hole, and when he pulled his face away, the door shook a little bit more. "IT DID IT AGAIN!!" came from the crowd. It was hilarious. Of course, the tour guide totally fed off of it, "these kinds of things happen". I hope one of them had an amazing camera and can see my giant eye in the peep hole. I realize that's unlikely, but that would really freak one of those ghost hunting weirdos out. No offense, if you are one.

Hotel cat in the lobby "Casper". He was not necessarily friendly, but he seemed to tolerate people. I did catch a couple of kids carrying him up the stairs, much to his dismay, late on Saturday night... he must get that often. Mostly, he sleeps.

Valentine's Date. Isn't he so handsome? I love him in a suit.

      We had an amazing rest of the weekend. We ventured out, spent too much money on really tasty food, accidentally purchased an antique liquor cabinet from the 30's, watched movies, had a Valentine's date, relaxed..... it felt WONDERFUL. We disappeared and recharged for a couple of days. I do so love disappearing with that man.