N Lombard Street, circa 1930

Loyd’s Apple and Potato House, located at 4828 N Lombard Street, circa 1930.     View this image in Efiles by clicking here.

Source: N Lombard Street, circa 1930

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Time Flies

My son is now officially 5 months old.  He’s incredible.  I’m biased I know, but I think he rocks.  My daughter will be 5 years old in August.  I cannot believe she’s going to be 5, and starting kindergarten, time flies by so quickly.  This week I took three days off to take care of the kidlets due to our daycare provider being on vacation. My husband works from home, he’s constantly on the phone or having to fix something over the internet so working from home and trying to care for two small children is not an easy feat.  It’s been nice to have this extra time with them.

I’ve include a picture of my son Archer, who is officially 5 months old and making his mama proud and a picture of my daughter Kailee who is so smart and growing up so fast!five monthskailee zoo

I’m pretty lucky to have these two in my life🙂

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Are you irritated? Do you feel like head slapping someone?

Do you feel the need to throat punch someone?  High five someone in the face with a chair?  Perhaps you’d like to depants Santa and flip off Mrs. Claus?  Would you like to let loose and let someone how you really feel about them?

Then this post is for you!  (This totally reminded me of a Ron White bit where he’s naked and eating cheetos)

I have had an irritating week.  Last Wed. I went in for my one hour and my regular appointment, I’m told my blood pressure is elevated and now I’ll be seeing an MD and oh look at that we need to schedule an ultrasound and another follow up can you do the ultrasound in one location and then fight Portland OR traffic and come back and do your follow up over here?  Great!  Also we’ll call with you with those test results.  Waited all weekend go in today after I called on Friday for the results, was told a message was left, didn’t get it, second message left, didn’t get that one, and am told oh you didn’t pass the one hour have you scheduled the three hour which will actually be four hours?  And can you do this urine collection test over the weekend?  Oh look at that your ultrasound came back great and your blood pressure is perfect, huh, well we’ll see you next week.

Turns out I accidentally blocked the phone number of my doctor’s office so I had two blocked voicemails about the test results.  *Headdesk* called to schedule the 3 hour test and had to leave a message no call back and yes I checked I didn’t block that number.  My job is flexible but this is wreaking havoc with my schedule and that means staying later at work and then fighting traffic to come home.

Oh and let’s talk about coworkers, I have one in particular who has become single white female, asking me constantly if I’m mad at her, did she do anything, can she feel the baby move?  No bitch, that’s my uterus, don’t fucking touch me, I don’t like being touched so why would I want you to touch me now that I’m pregnant?  No I’m not mad at you, I’ve 99 problems and honestly you’re not on the list at the moment.  I have heartburn, indigestion, my back hurts, my hips hurt, my boobs hurt, I have to pee every hour, I’m 35 and I feel like I’m 92 and carrying a bowling ball, I’m fucking exhausted.

We tell all extended family don’t exchange gifts this year lets do Xmas cards and if you want to send Kidlet 1 something cool, but we’re all adults except for her so let’s just be happy we have each other and we survived another year.  Nope MIL just has to send a gift.  Good for you MIL enjoy the card we sent!

*Deep breath*

2015 is almost over.  If I can make it to Feb. 17th with this baby I will call that a win.  If I can make it to the end of the year without killing anyone I will call that a win.  If I can make it to the end of the year without throwing a fruitcake at someone I will call that a win.

Happy Holidays everyone.

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13 years of marriage today

My husband and I have been married for 13 years today.  Normally I would write something witty or funny about this, but today, today I’m going to take a moment to appreciate that my husband loves me and that we’ve made it this far.  We’ve made it through getting pregnant with Kidlet after years of struggling, we’ve made it through getting pregnant with second Kidlet after trying for two years unsuccessfully and having to see a fertility specialist.  We’ve made it through a dorm room, two apartments in NM, one house in NM, one apartment in Oregon and now  rental house in Oregon.  We’ve made it through my Dad’s passing, my brother’s graduation, my college graduation, three jobs for him, seven jobs for me since entering college, one which I left and went back to, an internship for me in Colorado the first year of our marriage, promotions for both of us, my career taking us from NM to Oregon, birthdays, holidays, and anniversaries past.  This man has stood by me in my lowest points and my highest, he’s encouraged me, pushed me, and loved me, he’s shown me that I am worthy of love and respect, he’s held me when I cried hysterically thinking that we may never have a second baby.  He’s indulged me, brought me flowers, and cared for me when I’m sick.  He’s been a loving and amazing father to our Kidlet, he’s listened to my needs and wants and put Kidlet and I first in everything he does.

I love my husband more than words can ever express, we have not had a perfect marriage, far from it, but we’ve come a long way and we’ve done so in leaps and bounds.  I can’t imagine my life without him.  I don’t want to.

Besides, he buys me IPAs when I’ve had a crap day at work, how could I ask for more?

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Pregnancy sucks balls, first world problems, and baby name

There, I said it.  It sucks balls.  Yes, I’m happy I’m adding to my family, yes I went to a fertility doctor, yes, this is what I wanted and signed up for, yes I’m ecstatic that I will be having a baby after two years of trying.  That doesn’t mean that pregnancy is sunshine and roses.  I had morning sickness from four days before I took the pregnancy test until about two and a half weeks ago.  I cry at the drop of a hat, seriously, drop a hat, I guarantee you I will cry.  I have heartburn.  I have sciatica or something going with my left hip which makes it painful to sit or sleep, hell even to walk.  I’m out of breath.  Nothing fits.  This is my second so I’m showing a lot sooner than I expected.  Nothing sounds good.  Everything sounds good.  I miss beer.  I want to punch coworkers and strangers.  I’m too hot.  I don’t feel attractive.  I’m tired, oh so tired.

I completely understand if anyone who reads thinks, “Wow, bitch much?”  or “After  years of trying, heartache, and loss I’m finally pregnant or I finally have a child or children this chick should be a hell of lot more grateful!” I get it, I do, I am very happy to be able to have this baby, to add to my little family, to give my daughter a sibling.  I am.  I also know it’s okay to feel like this, it’s okay to feel a bit miserable, it’s okay to feel.  I’m human, I’m not perfect, I’m not the greatest wife or mother to have ever roamed the Earth, but I’m doing my best, I’m doing all that I can to be the greatest wife and mother and dammit sometimes I need an outlet.  I need to be able to express this, I think everyone needs to be able to express how they feel without fear of being told to suck it up or be happy that they’re able to do something because there are those in the world who can’t.  Is this my first world problem? Yes, yes it is, I will gladly own up to that.

Think what you want of me, think the worst of me if you would like.  For me, letting this all out means I can spend more time being happy and grateful that I’m having this child.  This will be my last pregnancy.  If I ever wanted a third baby I would have to go through IUI again or even IVF and there is absolutely no guarantee that either procedure would work.  To be honest we and our doctor were stunned when the IUI worked the first time around.  My husband’s sperm count is very low and I’m barely producing eggs.  We really thought we were one and done and I can’t tell you many hours, days, and nights I spent crying and being angry at myself and the world over that fact.

So yes, pregnancy sucks balls, this is my first world problem, and I’m ecstatic to be having this baby boy in March.  I can’t wait to meet him, his sister is over the moon over at having a little brother, and my husband can’t wait.  We picked a first name, but we’re working on the middle name.  Archer will be the first name, and we are looking forward to his arrival.

Oh, and I miss IPAs.  I’m also looking forward to having one after Archer’s birth.

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You never really know what goes on behind closed doors and letting things go

I don’t write much about my family of origin, I think occasionally I’ve written about my Dad, but I don’t write much about my Mom.  There are reasons for why I don’t write much about either of them.  I love my Mom, I always will, but I don’t always like my Mom.  She has some things going in her life that I thought had been taken care of and put to bed, but it seems that these issues are springing back up and it’s because of these issues that we don’t always get along.  Now, if you happen to take issue with the fact that I don’t get along with my mother and think I should suck it up then this may not be the post for you.

My Mom had a drinking problem, she ended up with pneumonia and then ended up in MICU and almost died.  I got a call from a nurse in the ICU and they asked me if they should pull the plug if my Mom were to code.  She survived, but barely, and she promised to stop drinking.  She went through withdrawal in the hospital.  She moved in with my brother and was on the mend.  Then she went to see my grandmother for a weekend and ended up with a DUI.  The drinking stopped after that because she was living with my brother again, but I’m 99% sure that’s she’s started drinking again.  She’s living in the same city but in an apartment on her own.  I have no doubt that it will kill her someday.  The doctors told her that if she didn’t stop drinking, smoking, and didn’t start eating that she wouldn’t make it.  My last phone call with her this past weekend leads me and my husband to believe that she’s drinking again.  I love her, but I can’t make her stop, I can’t make her get help, she has to want it for herself.  I don’t see that happening.

That’s not to say my Dad didn’t have his issues either.  I watched my Dad choke my brother in the kitchen when my brother smarted off to him about something.  I continued to eat my cereal and do my homework and think to myself, shouldn’t have been a smart ass little brother.  My Mom told me that last time he hit her she was holding a 2 year old me in her arms and she slugged him back in the nose.  He didn’t hit her again after that because she fought back.   I learned at an early age not to piss him off, but I also learned all the ways he would use to make life miserable.  He would give you the silent treatment and it would drive my Mom and my brother up the wall and they would beg and plead for him to talk to them and apologize for days.  Not me, I just gave it right back.  I was always stubborn, my Mom used to tell me all the time how much like my Dad I was, in some ways it turned out to be a good thing because I learned early on to stand up for myself.  I’ve been screamed at and hit, but to the outside world we were a loving happy family.  My Dad was the coach for the 6th and 5th grade basketball team, the kids called him Pops, people in town loved him, he ran for County Commissioner and one.  The man didn’t have a diploma or a GED and had no experience at all in politics but he ran and won.  I would have people tell me how lucky I was to have him as a Dad.  They had no idea what went on at home.  I grew up thinking that my childhood was normal until I made out into the real world.

I’ve read and heard that often times a woman who was abused as a child will marry someone who is abusive and that is exactly what my Mom did.  My grandfather was an abusive SOB who cheated on my grandmother and beat her and their six children.  I made a promise to myself that I would never marry a man like my father and I am happy to say that The Geek is an amazing husband and father and shares absolutely none of the traits my Dad had.  For a long time I didn’t tell him about my childhood, I told him the happy parts, the good memories and there were good memories, but when we started to fight after having kidlet because being a first time parent is stressful I let it all out.  We make an effort to discuss rather scream at each other and if one of us is really angry we cool down.  I will not subject my daughter or this kidlet due in March to what I grew up with.

I posted this today because I’ve come to a point in my life where I’m ready to let it go.  My Dad passed away in 2002, I keep my Mom at a distance that works for me, and I have never been happier.  I love my husband and my daughter, I love my job, I love living in Oregon, and I’m ecstatic to be pregnant with our second and final baby.  Putting this on paper so to speak and putting it out there is my way of saying good bye to the past.  My childhood helped to shape the person I’ve become and I’m proud of the woman I am today.  I’m also happy with the woman I am today.  I’m happy and that’s awesome.

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Growing a human might make me crazy, Knitting and how Martha Stewart haunts me

I have to admit being pregnant a second time around is different that I remember the first.  I’m incredibly excited for this baby just like I was for kidlet, but I don’t remember being this nauseous all the time and just being so damn tired.  Grumpy one minute and happy the next.  I feel a bit off kilter.

I’ve also knitted four dishcloths two in the shape of a heart and I’m working on a fifth.  I think I might try baby booties next.  If I were Martha Stewart I would have 10 dishcloths done by now and would have made three people cry while redecorating an entire house, putting together an elegant family dinner and whipping a up a whimsical costume for kidlet.  I know what you’re thinking, I need to let it go (Oh no, please not that song) and be at peace with what I can do, but I can’t.

Okay, I’m joking, I don’t want to be Martha Stewart, I don’t like to make people cry and most of the time it’s a good idea for me not to make dinner, especially right now.  All I want is buffalo sauce on everything.  Everything.  And cheese.  There is not enough cheese in my life right now.

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