I'm having my annual review this afternoon. In anticipation, I have been playing a little game of Worst Case Scenario...
10. Oops. You have a little something on your shirt. Oh, it's yesterday's breakfast? Okay...
9. You have done a great job! Unfortunately with the budget cuts, we won't be able to give you a raise this year. Instead, here's a complimentary Gator card! You can use it at over 20 locations.
8. You kind've sucked. Step yo' game up.
7. My boss's well-meaning but often creepy compliment, "Woooooooonderful." (Make sure you crescendo in the middle.)
6. With the lack of free time you seem to have, we think it's best to give you a few more responsibilities. You are now assigned to office maintenance, including but not limited to: vacuuming, sweeping, lawn care, toilet scrubbing, and shoe polishing.
5. We've decided to make Ginger your supervisor. She might snap (no pun intended) if she doesn't get a little more raw power around here.
4. You did great (or wooooooonderful) with product sales this year. As a result, we think we'll raise your goal up 10% instead of the customary 1%.
3. Excuse me. Something came up. Can we re-schedule for your birthday? (Or some other equally important and unavailable day.)
2. We think it's time for a demotion. How do you feel about becoming a troop leader this year?
1. Because of your outstanding performance this quarter, we would like to give you a special gift: an indefinite vacation.
7.06.2009
Top 10 Indicators That Your Friends Have Not Grown Up Yet But Might Need To
This list might be ongoing because I can definitely come up with more...
10. A holiday cannot be celebrated without a plethora of alcoholic choices. This is not limited to beer and wine, but also includes hooch and a one-of-a-kind creation that comes in a gas can.
9. When you go to the bar, people look at you like "Who does she think she is? Aren't they married? Doesn't he work at a bank?", and yet your friends don't care. They continue to get falling down drunk and hit on college freshmen.
8. Guys still refer to each other as homosexual slurs for fun. The female version of this might be ending every sentence with "...bitches!"
7. Drunk dialing has not become a forgotten art.
6. They still live at home with the 'rents AND (qualifier here) have their meals cooked and laundry done by Mom. Most times, they also have no intention of moving anytime soon.
5. They are currently obsessed with Twilight, along with the rest of the teeny-bopper nation, AND (another qualifier) own at least one Team Edward t-shirt.
4. Nudity, especially in the form of skinny dipping, is acceptable entertainment. This includes only male nudity usually, and often results in mysterious photographs showing up on your cell phone.
3. Everyone likes everyone. Or used to like everyone. Or at least made out with someone a few times. It happens in groups of friends. Let's just leave that drama in the past, though. No need to bring yesterday's lunch to today's menu.
2. This one is dedicated solely to my dear friend, Shrek... You still have a picture of a certain former N'Sync-er hanging in your closest, just to catch a glimpse of as you get dressed each morning.
1. The following things are recent memories for you (as opposed to distant memories): beer pong, flip cup, revealing club wear, going to a bar more than once per week, drinking until you black out, and wearing your pajama's in public.
10. A holiday cannot be celebrated without a plethora of alcoholic choices. This is not limited to beer and wine, but also includes hooch and a one-of-a-kind creation that comes in a gas can.
9. When you go to the bar, people look at you like "Who does she think she is? Aren't they married? Doesn't he work at a bank?", and yet your friends don't care. They continue to get falling down drunk and hit on college freshmen.
8. Guys still refer to each other as homosexual slurs for fun. The female version of this might be ending every sentence with "...bitches!"
7. Drunk dialing has not become a forgotten art.
6. They still live at home with the 'rents AND (qualifier here) have their meals cooked and laundry done by Mom. Most times, they also have no intention of moving anytime soon.
5. They are currently obsessed with Twilight, along with the rest of the teeny-bopper nation, AND (another qualifier) own at least one Team Edward t-shirt.
4. Nudity, especially in the form of skinny dipping, is acceptable entertainment. This includes only male nudity usually, and often results in mysterious photographs showing up on your cell phone.
3. Everyone likes everyone. Or used to like everyone. Or at least made out with someone a few times. It happens in groups of friends. Let's just leave that drama in the past, though. No need to bring yesterday's lunch to today's menu.
2. This one is dedicated solely to my dear friend, Shrek... You still have a picture of a certain former N'Sync-er hanging in your closest, just to catch a glimpse of as you get dressed each morning.
1. The following things are recent memories for you (as opposed to distant memories): beer pong, flip cup, revealing club wear, going to a bar more than once per week, drinking until you black out, and wearing your pajama's in public.
The Newly Blue-Haired Crew Has a Big 4th
I must admit, I have been angry at the Bloggie Blog for the last couple of days. I had alot to say, but I held back for fear of getting burned again. You see, on Friday morning, I wrote a brilliant little excerpt about my July 4th expectations and *POOF!* it didn't save. So, I just want to let you all know, you missed out because of Blogspot's inattention to detail.
Anyway, I'm back at work today after the week-long, thought-provoking furlough. I am in pain in more ways than one. My thighs, biceps, stomach, and neck ache like I ran (and won) the Boston Marathon this morning. For those of you who were lucky enough to attend the rained-out shindig on Saturday, you might be guessing correctly -- that the giant slip n' slide did me in.
It all started a week or so ago when Muscles was out having a bite with some friends, reminiscing about 4th's past. They always have to try to top the best. One of the bunch suggests a slip n' slide. Ooooh's & Aaaah's ensue. Everyone thinks that's a fab idea until they realize the inevitable -- that slip n' slides are built for children and thus, will not work for this group. The plan is eventually modified to include a homemade, grown-man-size, big slide going down a hill. Sounds like fun, huh? I thought so, too.
I woke up on Saturday morning to eat the annual Yones Familia breakfast at 7:30. Yuck. We felt violated for having to wake up that early in the first place... not to mention that breakfast was nearly gone and cold by the time we actually made it there. Whatever. I planned to mosey back to my bed and nap for awhile, as we had been up late the night before.
Muscles had other plans. He said he must get to work on the water slide. Crap. Our house guest, Casio the Rappin' Calculator, got out of bed in a flurry of excitement to help. Even though I tried diligently to go back to sleep, butterflies of anticipation were keeping me awake. I eventually gave in to the pressure and went outside to see their progress.
There, in the field beside my house, was 300 feet of thick plastic arranged end-to-end down a hill. I was impressed. The boys went to round up 8 or so water hoses (Yeah, I'm guessing we'll hear about that later.) to get this show rollin'. I obediently went inside to find the veggie oil. After all, we wanted this thing to go fast.
I get back out there, only to find my Cuzzo and her boyfriend, Robert Roberts, watering the plastic.
"Where's Muscles?" I ask.
"He and the Calculator went to find MORE hoses," RobRob replies.
I was antsy. I'll admit it. I tricked Roberts into giving it a go. I would've done so myself, but there were safety concerns, and, frankly, he was more expendable. Oops.
Robby-O positions himself atop a boogie board and asks that we push him. We give him the ol' heave-ho and he's off. Uh oh. Robby-O is not sliding in a straight line. He's favoring his left side. Did he have a stroke on the way down? Nope. The slide was malfunctioning and leading poor Robby-O off into the grass and slightly down the hill. No harm, no foul, right?
Robby-O attempts to stand, but struggles instead with the copious amounts of vegetable oil previously mentioned. After a couple of tries, he makes it back up the hill. Being the considerate guest that I am, I convince him to give it another try.
Robby-O is back on his perch, awaiting a push in no time.
Go, Robby-O, go!
I wish I could report that Robby-O got the hang of it, but that's not quite the case. Essentially, it was the same result with less bumbling to stand up this time. That's okay, Robby-O. Perhaps you're just not cut out for slippin' and slidin'.
At this point, I decide to give it a go myself. I have seen the damage (or so I thought) and it was minimal. I mounted the same boogie board (equipped with handles) and strategized in my mind that I would steer myself away from harm's way.
Ready...
Set...
MAN! This thing feels alot faster than it looks! I'm an excellent steer-er, really showing Robby-O up, I think. Then, like you may have guessed, I too rolled off of the plastic and into the coarse hay. YUCK.
In the meantime, Muscles and his Calculator come back. We put our five young minds together and try to come up with a way to fix the slide. Apparently, all that thinking was difficult for dear Muscles because he suddenly broke free from the group, ran to the slide, and plopped down head-first. What.A.Bad.Idea.
Let's just say Muscles hit every bump, stick, and rock on the way down to the same patch of hay Robby-O and myself had landed in. Only when he stood up, he was covered in tiny cuts. Ouch.
Robby-O chose this moment to air his own previously unmentioned concerns. He raised the back of his own shirt up to reveal multiple wounds. Why did he let me slide down, knowing the risks? Good question. Either way, I ended up feeling perfectly fine.
Muscles, on the other hand, was not so happy. He was in the middle of a full scale rant.
"This is never going to work! It's not going to work! Too bad! I hate that we did allll this work for nothing. Guess everybody can just be disappointed. Blah Blah Blah."
Geez, Louise, Muscles. Calm down. I hate it when he does that over-reacting thing. And, to boot, I enjoyed my short-lived, uninjured ride [halfway] down the hill. I think we could've tried harder, but Muscles wasn't having it. GAME OVER.
I went inside to pout and take a shower. What a let down. Or so I thought.
When I got out of the shower and looked out the window, one third of our deconstructed slide (100 feet of slippery goodness) was lying in our front yard. The water hoses had been adjusted for optimal water delivery. Wow.
This was a more traditional slip n' slide. You actually had to run and jump on it, just like the days when we were all wee tots. This was a nice consolation prize.
We spent the afternoon running, jumping, and diving onto our adult-size slip n' slide. It was a blasty-blast, even when the rain started.
What I did not expect, however, was to wake up the next morning feeling like I had wrestled an angry giant. Muscles and I were both in considerable pain. After checking in with our co-slippers n' sliders, everyone was, in fact, in pain.
Later that evening, we went over to the in-laws house to watch the previously rained-out fireworks. I announced how very sore I was to whoever would listen, as it hurt each and every time I moved.
My mother-in-law then says to me,
"Well, you all ARE 25 years old, throwing your bodies on the ground! You should be sore."
Buuuuuurn. Good point, though I hate to admit it. Perhaps this is the beginning of what getting old feels like. Next time I fancy a slip n' slide, I'll be sure to load up on BenGay cream and IcyHot patches first.
Anyway, I'm back at work today after the week-long, thought-provoking furlough. I am in pain in more ways than one. My thighs, biceps, stomach, and neck ache like I ran (and won) the Boston Marathon this morning. For those of you who were lucky enough to attend the rained-out shindig on Saturday, you might be guessing correctly -- that the giant slip n' slide did me in.
It all started a week or so ago when Muscles was out having a bite with some friends, reminiscing about 4th's past. They always have to try to top the best. One of the bunch suggests a slip n' slide. Ooooh's & Aaaah's ensue. Everyone thinks that's a fab idea until they realize the inevitable -- that slip n' slides are built for children and thus, will not work for this group. The plan is eventually modified to include a homemade, grown-man-size, big slide going down a hill. Sounds like fun, huh? I thought so, too.
I woke up on Saturday morning to eat the annual Yones Familia breakfast at 7:30. Yuck. We felt violated for having to wake up that early in the first place... not to mention that breakfast was nearly gone and cold by the time we actually made it there. Whatever. I planned to mosey back to my bed and nap for awhile, as we had been up late the night before.
Muscles had other plans. He said he must get to work on the water slide. Crap. Our house guest, Casio the Rappin' Calculator, got out of bed in a flurry of excitement to help. Even though I tried diligently to go back to sleep, butterflies of anticipation were keeping me awake. I eventually gave in to the pressure and went outside to see their progress.
There, in the field beside my house, was 300 feet of thick plastic arranged end-to-end down a hill. I was impressed. The boys went to round up 8 or so water hoses (Yeah, I'm guessing we'll hear about that later.) to get this show rollin'. I obediently went inside to find the veggie oil. After all, we wanted this thing to go fast.
I get back out there, only to find my Cuzzo and her boyfriend, Robert Roberts, watering the plastic.
"Where's Muscles?" I ask.
"He and the Calculator went to find MORE hoses," RobRob replies.
I was antsy. I'll admit it. I tricked Roberts into giving it a go. I would've done so myself, but there were safety concerns, and, frankly, he was more expendable. Oops.
Robby-O positions himself atop a boogie board and asks that we push him. We give him the ol' heave-ho and he's off. Uh oh. Robby-O is not sliding in a straight line. He's favoring his left side. Did he have a stroke on the way down? Nope. The slide was malfunctioning and leading poor Robby-O off into the grass and slightly down the hill. No harm, no foul, right?
Robby-O attempts to stand, but struggles instead with the copious amounts of vegetable oil previously mentioned. After a couple of tries, he makes it back up the hill. Being the considerate guest that I am, I convince him to give it another try.
Robby-O is back on his perch, awaiting a push in no time.
Go, Robby-O, go!
I wish I could report that Robby-O got the hang of it, but that's not quite the case. Essentially, it was the same result with less bumbling to stand up this time. That's okay, Robby-O. Perhaps you're just not cut out for slippin' and slidin'.
At this point, I decide to give it a go myself. I have seen the damage (or so I thought) and it was minimal. I mounted the same boogie board (equipped with handles) and strategized in my mind that I would steer myself away from harm's way.
Ready...
Set...
MAN! This thing feels alot faster than it looks! I'm an excellent steer-er, really showing Robby-O up, I think. Then, like you may have guessed, I too rolled off of the plastic and into the coarse hay. YUCK.
In the meantime, Muscles and his Calculator come back. We put our five young minds together and try to come up with a way to fix the slide. Apparently, all that thinking was difficult for dear Muscles because he suddenly broke free from the group, ran to the slide, and plopped down head-first. What.A.Bad.Idea.
Let's just say Muscles hit every bump, stick, and rock on the way down to the same patch of hay Robby-O and myself had landed in. Only when he stood up, he was covered in tiny cuts. Ouch.
Robby-O chose this moment to air his own previously unmentioned concerns. He raised the back of his own shirt up to reveal multiple wounds. Why did he let me slide down, knowing the risks? Good question. Either way, I ended up feeling perfectly fine.
Muscles, on the other hand, was not so happy. He was in the middle of a full scale rant.
"This is never going to work! It's not going to work! Too bad! I hate that we did allll this work for nothing. Guess everybody can just be disappointed. Blah Blah Blah."
Geez, Louise, Muscles. Calm down. I hate it when he does that over-reacting thing. And, to boot, I enjoyed my short-lived, uninjured ride [halfway] down the hill. I think we could've tried harder, but Muscles wasn't having it. GAME OVER.
I went inside to pout and take a shower. What a let down. Or so I thought.
When I got out of the shower and looked out the window, one third of our deconstructed slide (100 feet of slippery goodness) was lying in our front yard. The water hoses had been adjusted for optimal water delivery. Wow.
This was a more traditional slip n' slide. You actually had to run and jump on it, just like the days when we were all wee tots. This was a nice consolation prize.
We spent the afternoon running, jumping, and diving onto our adult-size slip n' slide. It was a blasty-blast, even when the rain started.
What I did not expect, however, was to wake up the next morning feeling like I had wrestled an angry giant. Muscles and I were both in considerable pain. After checking in with our co-slippers n' sliders, everyone was, in fact, in pain.
Later that evening, we went over to the in-laws house to watch the previously rained-out fireworks. I announced how very sore I was to whoever would listen, as it hurt each and every time I moved.
My mother-in-law then says to me,
"Well, you all ARE 25 years old, throwing your bodies on the ground! You should be sore."
Buuuuuurn. Good point, though I hate to admit it. Perhaps this is the beginning of what getting old feels like. Next time I fancy a slip n' slide, I'll be sure to load up on BenGay cream and IcyHot patches first.
7.02.2009
Top 10 Independance Day Truths
In honor of the upcoming holiday...
10. It should always be a day-long event, not just an evening of fire in the sky. Around here, it starts several days early. In fact, we're having our first patriotic meal tonight.
9. Once, I witnessed a Twinkie eating contest. The event was inspired by a national hot dog eating contest. I think my father-in-law chose Twinkies because hot dogs are disgusting. Little did he know how disgusting the little, cream-filled cakes would become. The champion's strategy was dunking each Twinkie into a glass of water before swallowing it whole. Yuck.
8. A kiss beneath the fireworks makes a girl melt. Listen up Men, Boyfriends, and Muscle-y Husbands: You'll be gifted beyond your wildest dreams if you'll just lean over and plant a wet one on your lady during the show.
7. Every good 4th of July must involve water. Lake water is sewer water's masked cousin as far as I'm concerned, but anybody can enjoy a round of pool volleyball, eh?
6. It's a fine excuse to express your patriotism... as long as it's not in the form of showing off your fave Stars & Bars flag/t-shirt/bandanna. Feel free, however, to belt out America, The Beautiful or the Pledge of Allegiance at will. We will join you.
5. It's your special day if red, white, and blue are your colors. You can wear them head to toe, shoes included. You may also paint your face, buy a coordinating swimsuit, and/or bring matching cupcakes to our shindig. But only today.
4. There will be copious amounts of yummy grilled food. Who doesn't love the juiciness of a patriotic cheeseburger and the sweetness of America's Baked Beans? :)
3. Togetherness is the day's theme. No drama from yo' baby mama today. Please leave your issues in the driveway.
2. Babies and dogs got it right the first time. Fireworks are scary and not all that fun. Sure, they are a great opportunity for a little romance (See #8), but mostly they are just loud balls of fire sailing through the sky. Who needs it? No one. But I'll be right there with the other throngs of people, Ooohing and Aaahhing.
1. People will drink until they are falling down, belligerent, or snuggling up on this celebratory day. Beer is usually the drink of choice, so park your Igloo anywhere in our front yard and get to it. Of course we don't mind cleaning up your empty cans or grotesque vomit tomorrow.
10. It should always be a day-long event, not just an evening of fire in the sky. Around here, it starts several days early. In fact, we're having our first patriotic meal tonight.
9. Once, I witnessed a Twinkie eating contest. The event was inspired by a national hot dog eating contest. I think my father-in-law chose Twinkies because hot dogs are disgusting. Little did he know how disgusting the little, cream-filled cakes would become. The champion's strategy was dunking each Twinkie into a glass of water before swallowing it whole. Yuck.
8. A kiss beneath the fireworks makes a girl melt. Listen up Men, Boyfriends, and Muscle-y Husbands: You'll be gifted beyond your wildest dreams if you'll just lean over and plant a wet one on your lady during the show.
7. Every good 4th of July must involve water. Lake water is sewer water's masked cousin as far as I'm concerned, but anybody can enjoy a round of pool volleyball, eh?
6. It's a fine excuse to express your patriotism... as long as it's not in the form of showing off your fave Stars & Bars flag/t-shirt/bandanna. Feel free, however, to belt out America, The Beautiful or the Pledge of Allegiance at will. We will join you.
5. It's your special day if red, white, and blue are your colors. You can wear them head to toe, shoes included. You may also paint your face, buy a coordinating swimsuit, and/or bring matching cupcakes to our shindig. But only today.
4. There will be copious amounts of yummy grilled food. Who doesn't love the juiciness of a patriotic cheeseburger and the sweetness of America's Baked Beans? :)
3. Togetherness is the day's theme. No drama from yo' baby mama today. Please leave your issues in the driveway.
2. Babies and dogs got it right the first time. Fireworks are scary and not all that fun. Sure, they are a great opportunity for a little romance (See #8), but mostly they are just loud balls of fire sailing through the sky. Who needs it? No one. But I'll be right there with the other throngs of people, Ooohing and Aaahhing.
1. People will drink until they are falling down, belligerent, or snuggling up on this celebratory day. Beer is usually the drink of choice, so park your Igloo anywhere in our front yard and get to it. Of course we don't mind cleaning up your empty cans or grotesque vomit tomorrow.
7.01.2009
Top 10 Things You Can Find Me Doing When I Have All the Free Time in the World
Inspired by this week...
10. Browsing the classifieds. I've been known to shop around for new jobs even when I don't need one. It's good to know what's out there. The problem is that sometimes I convince myself I MIGHT need one...
9. Eating copious amounts of something I concocted from the ingredients readily available in my kitchen. When I'm home alone, a simple ham sandwich never occurs to me. Instead, I make things like Thai-style Pineapple fried rice with golden raisins or Crispy, homemade Onion strings and a chicken burrito. My cravings are flung far and wide. I take advantage of this while Muscles is at work.
8. Planning to undertake a major housecleaning project, like, say, reorganize the office. Yeah, right.
7. Shopping. This is kind've an ancient sport for me. You see, Muscles and I have long-since put ourselves on a cash-only, monthly budget. We each have some money to shop with, but I usually spend mine on food. Yeah, I'm a fattie. Anyway, its a favorite past time. I still hit up the best bargain shopping spots on a quasi-regular basis. Mostly for items for the crib.
6. Procrastinating about getting myself presentable to go into town. Why, dear Lord, can Muscles get out of bed and be out the door 15 minutes later, showered, shaved and all?!? I have to allot at least 45 minutes to this process, in order to dry and (usually) straighten the horses' mane. Sometimes, I just sike myself out of it.
5. Bloggie bloggin'. This somehow makes it onto every list. What can I say? I love to laugh at my own brilliance. (Don't correct me, please.)
4. Laying out in the sweet, sweet sun. My naturally pale skin may not love the sun, but my endorphins sure do.
3. Working. Yep. Sad. I like my job, and I like thinking about what I'm going to do next and how.
2. Texting/calling/annoying friends. I have trouble understanding how other people can be busy while I'm twiddling my thumbs. Pick up your phone, girl. I have hours dead silences or random, oddball comments to get out. Geez. Take a personal day for a friend in need.
1. Lying on my couch, eating a strange combination as a snack (currently mini marshmallows and shredded coconut), watching re-runs of JK+8 (Don't get me started on the divorce drama. I have very strong opinions), and thinking about things I could be/need to be/want to be doing.
10. Browsing the classifieds. I've been known to shop around for new jobs even when I don't need one. It's good to know what's out there. The problem is that sometimes I convince myself I MIGHT need one...
9. Eating copious amounts of something I concocted from the ingredients readily available in my kitchen. When I'm home alone, a simple ham sandwich never occurs to me. Instead, I make things like Thai-style Pineapple fried rice with golden raisins or Crispy, homemade Onion strings and a chicken burrito. My cravings are flung far and wide. I take advantage of this while Muscles is at work.
8. Planning to undertake a major housecleaning project, like, say, reorganize the office. Yeah, right.
7. Shopping. This is kind've an ancient sport for me. You see, Muscles and I have long-since put ourselves on a cash-only, monthly budget. We each have some money to shop with, but I usually spend mine on food. Yeah, I'm a fattie. Anyway, its a favorite past time. I still hit up the best bargain shopping spots on a quasi-regular basis. Mostly for items for the crib.
6. Procrastinating about getting myself presentable to go into town. Why, dear Lord, can Muscles get out of bed and be out the door 15 minutes later, showered, shaved and all?!? I have to allot at least 45 minutes to this process, in order to dry and (usually) straighten the horses' mane. Sometimes, I just sike myself out of it.
5. Bloggie bloggin'. This somehow makes it onto every list. What can I say? I love to laugh at my own brilliance. (Don't correct me, please.)
4. Laying out in the sweet, sweet sun. My naturally pale skin may not love the sun, but my endorphins sure do.
3. Working. Yep. Sad. I like my job, and I like thinking about what I'm going to do next and how.
2. Texting/calling/annoying friends. I have trouble understanding how other people can be busy while I'm twiddling my thumbs. Pick up your phone, girl. I have hours dead silences or random, oddball comments to get out. Geez. Take a personal day for a friend in need.
1. Lying on my couch, eating a strange combination as a snack (currently mini marshmallows and shredded coconut), watching re-runs of JK+8 (Don't get me started on the divorce drama. I have very strong opinions), and thinking about things I could be/need to be/want to be doing.
Wanted: 32 Somewhat Structured Hours in a Day
This week I am on furlough from my job. What that amounts to is that all staff are required to take this week completely off from work with no pay. We are not allowed to go to the office, check our email or voice messages, or answer personal calls from volunteers. It was instituted as a way to try to salvage the meager budget this year. We found out about it a couple of months ago, and, to be quite honest, I have been excited about it rather than upset. Financially, I suppose it's a bit of a bummer, but socially it's been nice. There is another one scheduled for the week of Thanksgiving, and I plan to take a little vacay then, depending on where this baby stuff goes.
Anyway, I have had too much time to think and whatnot since this began. This has been a problem for me, of course. As much as I complain about always being tired and busy, I think I thrive under those circumstances. Monday, the first "real" day of the furlough, was great. I had an interview in the morning and then the doctor's appointment that afternoon with Jonathan. We went to our favorite Asian restaurant after that, and I was happy. My day was full. Yesterday was a different story. I had only one thing on the agenda: to have lunch with my friend, Shrek. This particular version of Shrek is not green. She is a girl and has impeccable manners. Perhaps she just has a penchant for wanting to be the center of things, much like the lovable, green ogre.
With all of that free time, I devised a plan of the many enjoyable things I wanted to accomplish yesterday: lay out, write a little in the bloggie blog, do some housework (only enjoyable when I have ample time), plan a fabulous dinner and execute it, and work out. Somehow, I managed to check off very few things on my fun to-do list. I did some laundry and light cleaning, and I made an average meal for my family. Where did all my time go, you ask? The sofa ate it. Yep. I laid on my sofa, flipping channels and checking my facebook. I even tried to take a nap, but no. I was too busy with the 2 afore mentioned activities to squeeze that in either. I was lost. So many good, solid options of what to do, and I took a big "L." This brings me to my next point...
I don't think I can ever be a stay-at-home mom. I know. Lightening strike me now.
Anyway, I have had too much time to think and whatnot since this began. This has been a problem for me, of course. As much as I complain about always being tired and busy, I think I thrive under those circumstances. Monday, the first "real" day of the furlough, was great. I had an interview in the morning and then the doctor's appointment that afternoon with Jonathan. We went to our favorite Asian restaurant after that, and I was happy. My day was full. Yesterday was a different story. I had only one thing on the agenda: to have lunch with my friend, Shrek. This particular version of Shrek is not green. She is a girl and has impeccable manners. Perhaps she just has a penchant for wanting to be the center of things, much like the lovable, green ogre.
With all of that free time, I devised a plan of the many enjoyable things I wanted to accomplish yesterday: lay out, write a little in the bloggie blog, do some housework (only enjoyable when I have ample time), plan a fabulous dinner and execute it, and work out. Somehow, I managed to check off very few things on my fun to-do list. I did some laundry and light cleaning, and I made an average meal for my family. Where did all my time go, you ask? The sofa ate it. Yep. I laid on my sofa, flipping channels and checking my facebook. I even tried to take a nap, but no. I was too busy with the 2 afore mentioned activities to squeeze that in either. I was lost. So many good, solid options of what to do, and I took a big "L." This brings me to my next point...
I don't think I can ever be a stay-at-home mom. I know. Lightening strike me now.
Disclaimer: I am, in no way, knocking stay-at-home moms. My own mother stayed at home with me for most of my childhood, and it was an irreplaceable blessing. I actually think my working will be a detriment to my own mothering. Read on.
This topic has been on my mind alot as Muscles & I have gone through the reproductive technology process. I'm hoping to come out the other side of this baby thing, saying both my future child and I are better for it. Right now, though, I just feel really guilty. And angry.
I love to work. Maybe I don't love to work SO much, but I DO love to work. I like to feel needed and important, and also that I'm not along for a free ride. And furthermore, I think my working is necessary to provide the best life for said future kiddos. I think it contributes to my happiness, our marital success, and my personal growth. I don't know if I think this is selfish or not, but I already feel guilty about it. I absolutely HATE the idea of my child growing up in day care. I can guarantee that will not happen either. So, I feel like I will be stuck between a rock and a hard place when (hopefully) baby arrives. And to add insult to injury, why is this MY concern rather than Muscles' concern? His response is something like "We'll figure it out. I'll support whatever you do." WHY CAN'T I JUST SUPPORT WHATEVER HE DOES?!?
I don't know. Either way, I am currently, happily in denial. My hope is that some family member (or a few) will miraculously offer to keep said child/children once or twice a week until I can devise a workable plan. The other option that I am more than willing to undertake is working part time. I just interviewed for a full-time job, however, so we'll see. One bright spot of the position is that pre-school is available in the building... Whew. So much to think about.
6.29.2009
On the Verge of Something Big... Maybe
The ball is rolling, baby.
Today we went to the Baby Doc. Our intention was to discuss the results of Muscles' most recent test and our options thereafter. I don't know why I thought that was just another step in the long, grocery-line wait for baby-makin', but it wasn't. It was progress. It was the beginning. It was dangerously hopeful.
We arrived at the fertility center half an hour early. Muscles and I paused outside the door of the center to say a quick prayer for good news. I suppose it worked because I found myself thanking God an hour later. Anyway, they got us signed in. At this particular office, they require a hospital-style bracelet every single visit for both partners. I quickly learned to thrust my bracelet-ed wrist at any personnel for verification of my identity. I suppose that's a good thing. Anyway, a nurse came out to get us nearly before we had a chance to sit down. Sweet.
We were sat neatly in a regular office instead of in a little consultation room like before. I worried immediately that our satisfaction with the center would diminish now that we were actually so close to action. These turned out to be unfounded. Baby Doc came in a few minutes later, the same as he had during our other visits. He told us he was pleased with Muscles' test results. There were a couple of below average numbers, but the most important numbers were adequate or even a bit above average. Doc made his suggestion, which is to try Turkey Bastin' without injectable, invasive drugs. For now. This is significantly cheaper than the type of Turkey Bastin' I thought we would be trying, which involves a series of expensive shots to stimulate my eggies to come out and play. Instead, there are pills to stimulate the eggies.
Then the surprise. (To me anyway)
Doc says, "Okay, so by my calculations, you are currently on Day 3, so I'll give you the prescription and you can begin taking it today. Schedule an ultrasound for next Thursday, and, if the medicine works we will do the procedure next Friday."
I heard Muscles suck in his breath. I looked at him to see if he was still with me. There was an evident surprise and a hint of fear in his eyes. I raised my eyebrows in that what-do-you-think look and he smiled and nodded. We were, we ARE doing this. With that, we left and I did, in fact, start the prescription today.
The chances for any fertility procedure to be a success are really against you. Even IVF success rates are below 50%. This procedure is even lower. It is closer to 10-15%. Still, my fingers are crossed. We're young and mostly healthy. It could work.
Send a prayer up for us, if the postman can get it there in time. Let me amend my thoughts on the fertility process to say this. There IS alot of waiting, but there also seems to be some periods of sprinting. Waiting. Sprinting. Waiting. Waiting. Sprinting. Waiting. I don't know how to adjust to that exactly, but I'm working on it. My fingers are crossed.
Today we went to the Baby Doc. Our intention was to discuss the results of Muscles' most recent test and our options thereafter. I don't know why I thought that was just another step in the long, grocery-line wait for baby-makin', but it wasn't. It was progress. It was the beginning. It was dangerously hopeful.
We arrived at the fertility center half an hour early. Muscles and I paused outside the door of the center to say a quick prayer for good news. I suppose it worked because I found myself thanking God an hour later. Anyway, they got us signed in. At this particular office, they require a hospital-style bracelet every single visit for both partners. I quickly learned to thrust my bracelet-ed wrist at any personnel for verification of my identity. I suppose that's a good thing. Anyway, a nurse came out to get us nearly before we had a chance to sit down. Sweet.
We were sat neatly in a regular office instead of in a little consultation room like before. I worried immediately that our satisfaction with the center would diminish now that we were actually so close to action. These turned out to be unfounded. Baby Doc came in a few minutes later, the same as he had during our other visits. He told us he was pleased with Muscles' test results. There were a couple of below average numbers, but the most important numbers were adequate or even a bit above average. Doc made his suggestion, which is to try Turkey Bastin' without injectable, invasive drugs. For now. This is significantly cheaper than the type of Turkey Bastin' I thought we would be trying, which involves a series of expensive shots to stimulate my eggies to come out and play. Instead, there are pills to stimulate the eggies.
Then the surprise. (To me anyway)
Doc says, "Okay, so by my calculations, you are currently on Day 3, so I'll give you the prescription and you can begin taking it today. Schedule an ultrasound for next Thursday, and, if the medicine works we will do the procedure next Friday."
I heard Muscles suck in his breath. I looked at him to see if he was still with me. There was an evident surprise and a hint of fear in his eyes. I raised my eyebrows in that what-do-you-think look and he smiled and nodded. We were, we ARE doing this. With that, we left and I did, in fact, start the prescription today.
The chances for any fertility procedure to be a success are really against you. Even IVF success rates are below 50%. This procedure is even lower. It is closer to 10-15%. Still, my fingers are crossed. We're young and mostly healthy. It could work.
Send a prayer up for us, if the postman can get it there in time. Let me amend my thoughts on the fertility process to say this. There IS alot of waiting, but there also seems to be some periods of sprinting. Waiting. Sprinting. Waiting. Waiting. Sprinting. Waiting. I don't know how to adjust to that exactly, but I'm working on it. My fingers are crossed.
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