Longing for REM or Why my dog has soft lips

In the set up of our Master bedroom, somehow - BOTH of the dogs sleep on my "side" of the bed. Austin (big dog) sleeps in his own bed in the corner and Sugar Baby (backup dog) sleeps on a little paw shaped pillow right by my bed - literally I mean where I would put my feet in the morning. This was especially fun when I was getting up 3 times a night to nurse the baby who was....you guessed it...also in our room. But I digress...



My husband and my routine is to watch the news, make marital chitchat, and then I turn over to read whatever various book in which I am, at present, engrossed. (Which happens at the moment to be Freakonomics which is FANTASTIC) By this time the dogs are in deep sleep which means -



SNORING.



Snoring by an 85 pound, 8 year old Labrador. Imagine a fog horn with paper towel stuffed down the horn. It is SO LOUD there is no possible way I can focus on my book, let alone trying to enter REM sleep. I try whispering his name but that's useless and even I can't hear myself over his snoring. So the conundrum began - how do I wake him up and get him to shift positions without waking up my husband, freaking out Sugar Baby, or startling him so much he goes into a barking fit.



I spent about a week trying to figure this out. Adding to the nocturnal noises is the train that runs through Pendleton. It runs all day and all night and even though we're miles away and one CERTAIN husband assured me you "can't hear it from the house" when he was trying to coax me into marrying him....alas, I can still hear it. AND, it often plays little tunes on said horn since it assumes NO ONE would be up listening to the trains.



Unless, of course, they have the great snoring dog.



So, one night, not to long ago as I tossed and turned in bed listening to my dog saw logs - it came to me. What do we do to our husbands when THEY snore? We jab them in the ribs with our elbow until they slightly wake up and roll over, and then we roll over quick so they don't know we jabbed them.



Well, since I can't exactly nudge Austin - I had to come up with another option. Throwing things at him. Don't get all upset, not rocks or chocolate or books or anything - just little things that I would have on my nightstand at a give moment. This usually ends up being chapsticks and floss. (Floss on my nightstand being the topic for another post) So the other night, as I was finishing up my chapter, I heard the rumbling from the corner. I slipped down under my duvet, checked to make sure my husband was asleep (not exaaaaaaaaaaactly sure he'd appreciate my plan) and sneaked a chapstick off my nightstand. Then, I slowly - carefully - lobbed it at his head.



It worked! He startled, and then shifted and it was back to a nice quiet room. Ok ok, I didn't hit him in the head, I just hit his leg or something. But it worked! Joy! Too bad I couldn't throw chapstick at the train....



2 nights ago the snoring got out of control again. I hadn't restocked my arsenal, so I felt around on my nightstand to see what I had... the only thing I could find that wouldn't cause harm was a paper clip. Not the dinky ones, but like the black ones with two "legs" that fold down and snap over a larger group of papers. It wasn't sharp so I thought it would be just fine as my chosen projectile. I checked on my husband, and tossed the clip ever so lightly at the dog.



It didn't work! He didn't move! It was the only bullet in my gun. I felt around my nightstand - mints - no, a water bottle - no, reading lamp - no. ARG! Then I heard him move a little. SAVED! He stopped snoring! Thank goodness! I turned over and cuddled up to my husband, very proud of myself. But then I heard a rattle.



He had lain back down ON TOP OF THE PAPER CLIP! So with every breath he took he was making it rattle. And within a minute he was snoring again. FOG HORN....rattle rattle.....FOG HORN....rattle rattle. You can't make this stuff up folks!



I was sort of losing my temper and thinking about just throwing myself at the dog, but got ahold of myself. (Literally) Next thing I knew, I was waking up the next morning.



I haven't come up with a solution, but I've given up on the projectile theory. Austin was starting to have both softer lips and cleaner teeth than me.

"It's sorta like playing Monopoly"

These were my words to Steve last night as I was "helping" him with our taxes. We had a little snack on the couch and then he said he was going to go start getting our tax stuff together to send to the accountant. I had a terrible headache, so he told me to go relax upstairs. BUT - I decided to poke my nose into his office to see what preparing for taxes entails as the only time I've ever filed by myself I did so over the phone and they involved the letters "E-Z." But wouldn't you know I got drafted into helping!

Segue - Steve has taken multiple days off work to stay home with Madeline. This has allowed him to get the true "stay at home parent" experience. Although I have worked my entire life and have a good idea what getting up and putting a full day in at the office entails, I don't give my husband the credit he deserves a lot of the time. He's up at 6am to let the dogs out, feed them, pack his lunch, and leave for work in the cold cold car. He puts in a full day at Ball State and then drives 45 minutes home to be greet ed usually by a frazzled wife and whiny baby - plus 2 dogs who want to play. He immediately takes over and plays with Madeline while I finish up dinner, gets her ready for dinner, feeds her dinner, plays with her while I clean up, gives her a bath, and puts her to bed. After that he pays bills, mows grass, empties trash or a myriad of other "Honey-Dos". Usually without a thank you from me.

Steve assigned me the job last night of going through the checkbook, credit card, and medical receipts to figure out how much money was spent on medical bills in 2007. It was an arduous job to be sure. It involved sorting, and computing, and listing, and calculating, and eye straining. Then it involved coming to terms with the amount of money we had to spend on medical bills last year. I thought my eyes were going to bug out of my head. Yes, I couldn't help thinking about all the shoes I could have purchased - or nice sports car for that matter, but I was amazed that my husband had been able to finagle our savings to pay it all off without medical debt.

Sometimes you got to get in someone elses skin and walk around in it to really understand what their life is like. I have no idea (literally, none- I am not exaggerating) about how to balance a checkbook, put money into IRAs and 529s, invest in mutual funds and the like. If he dies before me I will, literally, be lost. I don't think I've ever once thanked him for being so wise with our finances, for working so hard so that I can stay at home with our daughter, taking out the trash and alllllllll the other yucky jobs he does that he doesn't like either - that he does because they need to be done. Sitting there, on the floor of his office, I was doing something that he normally did. If I hadn't done it, I would have no appreciation for the job. I would have been like "Ohhhh sorting receipts - BIG DEAL." It makes me wonder how many other things he does that I take for granted. Picking up toys at night isn't a personal high of my day, but it beats paying bills and doing all that complicated stuff. It was up to me I'm pretty sure we'd be in financial ruin because I'd keep forgetting to write checks, let alone trying to keep track of bills.

So, after I finished my job, I took out "the packet" - the big thing we have to fill out for the accountant. So I sat there and read the questions aloud while he worked on a website.

"Did you operate or otherwise take part in a S Corporation purchase or franchisement?"
No

"Did you or any of your dependants pay a luxury tax of 5,000 dollars or greater?"
No

"Did you purchase or sell any real estate this year?"
No

Ok, so I'm making some of those questions up, but it sounded like the Monopoly game from Hell. Apparently there is a tremendous amount of work in getting ready for someone else to do your taxes. Who knew?

Thank you, dear husband, for taking care of me. For not complaining that you paid for a baby instead of a new car. For sparing me from doing things, not because I'm not capable, but because I just wouldn't like doing them. Thank you for always walking into the house with smile on your face, and open arms for your daughter. Thank you for all the times I should have said it and didn't. I love you.

But please don't ever ask for help with taxes again.

I can solve the crime problem!

So - after hearing the latest killing here in Indy of 2 mothers and their babies I have figured out a way to stop all killing of innocent children.

1. Let me and my mom friends have about.....10 minutes alone with the people hurting them.

2. Show it on TV

3. No one will every hurt a child again.

I'm not one to normally feel like I should take the law into my own hands but I tell you latley.....it makes me sick to my stomach

Pics from the trip!

Like I already said - we had a GREAT time in Canada and obviously the Canadians had missed Steve!!

This was the view from our room on the 28th floor. Steve has this tradition of taking pictures of me at the window on vacation. I don't know why, but I always seem to gravitate to the view. We had a spectacular view in Toronto - we overlooked the skating rink that was outdoors and the cool apartments that you can see in this pic!

This was the television interview with Coach Hoke the night before the game. We were invited to go, and as it got boring I kept thinking of questions to ask like they do in the Coors Light commercials at the fake press conference. Don't worry, I refrained.

The view of the end zone from Windows Restaurant

Hangin' out at the Pre-game luncheon.

Hardcore.

Charlie Cardinal Reminding us what number we were!

The Country Mouse

Steve and I had a GREAT time in Canada. (I'll post more pictures later that I actually took with our camera.) We had a couple of AWESOME meals, found some funky shops, went ice skating, and enjoyed fantastic seats to the Bowl Game.

I have to admit that I am totally in love with Toronto. Steve and I walked about 3 miles through the art and fashion district and every other store was a womens clothing store or a shoe store! We didn't have time to stop in all of them, but we did get to sample a real taste of that part of the city. Sort of Broad Ripple with SOHO prices (thus why we didn't buy much).

There are few places I like enough to wear I actually fell like I could move there and be happy, but Toronto was one of those places. There was so much to do, the arts had a HUGE presence there, and it's a huge, fast moving city. I saw lots of people out with babies in the parks and in the shops. So the kids wouldn't have a yard to play in.... grass is overrated right? I know my husband would NEVER live in the downtown of any city, but I could totally do it. Being in Toronto made me miss the city terribly. I wish there was a way to be a city and country mouse.

Hmm

It seems when I write a more serious, introspecitve post - I get fewer replies. I would like to think it's my affective writing, but I'm not that disillusioned. The lack of replies to my last post makes me wonder if I am one of just a few women who still feel this way. Of course, because of my OCD it also makes me think that maybe it's just that no one likes me.

Man! It sure stinks to be a female sometimes!

(BTW - Thanks Reesh!)

Girls Girls Girls

I love my little girl. I heard one of my mommy friends say once, "I was just meant to be a mom of girls." I think that sums up how I feel too. IF IF IF we have another one (don't hold your collective breath Mom, Ellie, and Jessica) I would want another girl. Of course I would love a boy yada yada - but I feel like I'd have to "relearn" stuff.

However, there is one thing I really like about boys. They aren't nearly as cruel as girls. I watched a documentary the other day about a clique of girls in the 5th and 6th grades. It was so horrible it brought tears to my eyes. The worst part? I totally identified. I didn't have a whole lot of friends in upper elementary school. I went to a small private school so there was a core group of us that had literally grown up together. We were so sick of each other by the time Junior High rolled around. Everyone knew each other's business. There were a few girls who made life especially hard for me. She would come up to me and tell me my outfits were ugly or something about the way I looked. I remember how badly it hurt my feelings and crying at home for weeks. By the time I reached High School I had become close with all of the popular kids. I went to a party just about every Friday night (and before you get any ideas of me remember that these were private school parties so the craziest thing we ever did was turn on a strobe light or hold hands.) But, regardless of the cheesiness - you HAD to be invited to these parties. If you weren't you weren't cool.

Remember lunch drama? How all the cool kids sat at one table? I remember sitting there and almost swallowing my tongue I was so bored. I finally realized it was ridiculous and just sat with whomever I wanted - regardless of Cheerleader status or "IT" factor. It was one of the first times my life wasn't filled with friend drama. The boys never had this. They were pretty much all friends. If they had an issue with each other - they punched each other once or twice in the locker room and it was over. With us? It was a 3 act Shakespeare that lasted far longer than Hamlets 4 hours traffic of our stage.



I made it - relatively unscathed. I have a few really really close friends whom I would call "best" and a couple of circles of really good close friends whom I love and adore. But, there's still that seed deeeeeeeeeeep down inside of me that needs to be accepted. I "need" to know that my friends like me - that they want me around. Sometimes I find myself annoying - I have to think I annoy the people around me at times as well. It's funny how quickly those insecurities come back isn't it? I am 27 years old - and when I went to the baby group at the hospital all I did was compare myself to the women around me. "She's cuter, she's funnier, she's so put together, she's supermom, she's so thin, she does what I do - but with two!" This while I'm barely healed from a C-section and nursing around the clock, is what I spent my time thinking about. Now that all of our kids are older there's even more things to compare. And that brings me to the crux of my post (surprise surprise it took me 500 words to get to the point!) - I'm not worried that Madeline won't be able to handle girl drama - I don't think I will be able to handle girl drama. The first time someone tells Madeline that her shoes are ugly or that she doesn't want to be her friend, I don't know how I'm going to avoid walking into her classroom and breaking her legs. Hurt me all ya want - bring it on - but you even go near my baby and her delicate psyche - I will mame you. How am I going to keep myself under control?

I don't want my daughter to have these lingering feelings that I have - wondering if people like me, wondering what people see in me...... but I don't have the foggiest idea of how to change the course of her life differently than mine. Sure I could homeschool her her whole life, but then you've created a whole 'nother problem. I want her to develop thick skin, but still be sensitive to others who are hurting.

There just aren't any books on that.