WRINKLES! Or, when we got a puppy.

So, we're crazy people. 

Shocking, right?

Dude. You could have at least pretended to be surprised. 

Anyway, we have two dogs whom I have mentioned in previous posts.  

Big dog:

Little dog:

Well, in our insanity fueled by being baby crazy or, you know, just crazy, we decided that, amidst our 60-80 hour work weeks, two existing dogs, obligations galore and baby making plans, it would be a good idea to add this guy:

He doesn't have a name yet. My husband refuses to name him. We've only had him for a week and a half. (Grrr.)

He's insanely cute, all kinds of cuddly, and fairly well-trained already.

This is him on his first day of leash training. 

Mom! Stop! You're embarrassing me!

So far, he has mastered the stairs, made friends with big dog and learned that chasing little dog around the house is intensely enjoyable. He's had very few accidents, and I'm sure he would know his name if my husband WOULD GIVE HIM ONE. 

So, yeah, we're crazy. But we're also happy.

Fast friends.

You can also look for more puppy-related ridiculousness at www.omgwrinkles.tumblr.com.

As always, it's hip to be square (AND WRINKLY!), kids.

Self-Image

I have a problem that no other woman before me has ever had ever.

I worry about my waistline. Constantly.

Oh wait! That's not novel or rare.

I've been thinking about it a lot lately since my mid-20s silhouette is a little larger than I would like. I'm still small and not quite overweight, but I used to be SO tiny. To be fair, when I was that tiny, I thought I was a heffer, but I digress.

I also LOVE cheese fries. Is there a support group for that?

Anyway, worrying about weight is exhausting. I know there is plenty I can do about it, but I'm so exhausted from worrying that I don't think I would have the energy. (Isn't that an amazing and terrible excuse?) 

The thing is, I would love to have my 19-year-old figure back, but would I be willing to take back who I was then to complete the tradeoff?

Hellllll no.

At 19, I was in a bad (described as abusive by my best friend who was the only one willing to say it to my face) relationship. I was lonely. I was filled with anxiety all the time. I was unwilling to make mistakes. I followed the rules too closely. I worried that everyone had an opinion about me. I was terrified to leave home and get out on my own. I didn't speak up. I didn't know how to speak up. I didn't know that I was worth anything.

I was a child. 

Don't get me wrong, there was a lot of fun, but those things wouldn't be fun for me anymore. 

Being a woman is way better than being a girl ever was. If I have to hold on to the spare tire around my waist as a memento of how far I've come, I think I'll add some glitter and a medal. 

I have earned it. 

And eventually, eventually, I'll get to the gym. 

As always, it's hip to be square (and wider), kids.

CREATIVITY... For A Second

My husband and I moved into our house more than a year ago. In that time, we have bought a small amount of new furniture and painted. Some pictures were put up by my sister-in-law before our rehearsal dinner, but that is pretty much it. The walls are pretty bar. I want to put more up, but I am, uh, interior-design-impaired. My brain does not work in blank canvases. It works in words and numbers. I am useless with color and space.

That being said, when you get married, there are these things called "pictures". They have your face on them, and you will never look better than you do in those photos. My husband got a bunch of amazing prints for me, and he framed them. I really wanted them hung. It took me months, literally MONTHS of staring at this one small section of wall on the first floor to get the courage to get the hanger.

I also had to make it such that I was able to calculate distance and size more easily considering the fact that the frames were all different sizes. One was already on the wall from before, but the rest were going to be a challenge for me. I am "special", but I am not good with spacial. Numbers and lines, however, I can do. I did this: 

The lined paper gave me something to count, and I could step back and make sure the points were correct. The were approximately the size of my frames. 

In all, it turned out like this:

Don't worry. I straightened them again after the picture was taken. 

I know this doesn't sound like a big achievement, but this was huge for me. I had no assistance, and I made something that looks GOOD. I can craft, but design is so difficult for me. The different frames really made it pop, and I am so happy with the product. 

Now, I return to words and numbers for at least the next year.

As always, it's hip to be square (and creative!), kids.

Wardrobe Malfunction

So, I had this awesome day where I wasn't feeling so good about myself. I decided to try to dress up for work. I put on one of the dresses that I thought might not fit, and, to my surprise, it did! Totally excited. It looked adorable, I felt good about myself, and I went to work on my couture-induced high. As far as I'm concerned, any day in patent leather pumps is a good day.

Except, you know, this one.

I got to work and started talking to the doc about different things. Soon, all four of us were in his office going over things. I noticed something weird on my dress. Upon further inspection, the seam on my right thigh was coming apart. At 8 a.m. Half hour away from home with a packed day. 

Shit.

I decided to leave it alone and hope it didn't get worse.

Yeah, right.

I couldn't leave it alone for a second. I was so worried. What if it gets bigger and I get more naked?! (She said.) Oh noes.

To paraphrase Fight Club, it's like the sore in your mouth that would get better if you could just stop touching it with your tongue, but you can't stop touching it with your tongue. Yeah. I tried to fix it with safety pins, but it just made the dress come apart more. 

To this:

It got worse every time I sat down. Eventually, the only option was to do this:

It looked like it was meant to be that way unless you saw the BIG GAPING SEAM IN THE LINING.

It happened to be a day where we had an extra long lunch break, so after a quick trip to Ross, the dress became this:

I'll be honest, the dress cost me $8.00. I'm not entirely worried about the fact that I had to trash it. I was more concerned about my potential to be entirely unclothed at any point during the day.

That, my friends, is as close as I will ever come to Janet Jackson.

As always, it's hip to be square (and not naked!), kids.

Hero

I mentioned this before, but on our recent trip to the Grand Canyon, my husband was hit by a car in Albuquerque. He was (and is) fine, but I had an epic meltdown the likes of no ones business. Maybe it was being in a strange place. Maybe it was the fact that a FUCKING CAR HIT MY HUSBAND. Either way, I came undone. 

As is cliché, the entire thing happened really fast, and I hardly got a chance to think. I don't think my husband did either, but his instincts took over. The instincts are most certainly what make me love him more than anything. 

In the split second that it took for some idiot to not look before making a left turn INTO MY HUSBAND, hubs (who was already holding my hand) shoved me with all of his might out of the way before jumping back himself. Without a doubt, he would have gotten hit by a car when it should have hit me. 

I guess that makes him worth it.

Beeteedubs, I love him a lot. 

</mushiness>

As always, it's hip to be square (and safe), kids.

Letting Go of Little Loves

Things change.

My little brother has come to some decisions lately, and as big sisters should, I have been counseling him through them. He just wants to bounce ideas off someone, and I pretty much keep my mouth shut and let him work through them. Sometimes, I ask questions just to get him thinking, but I know he already knows everything that I could say. He just needs to get the courage to deal with the situation. 

My focus has been on him and the family. It has not been on my own emotions as he navigates through this. Mostly because my emotions don't matter because they're his issues, but also because I am pretty unflappable in most situations. I'm the one who makes the tough decisions for my family even though my parents are still thriving. They put the responsibility on me, and I accept it. I just had that moment when I realized how much this is going to affect me, and the tears exploded from my face.

Since it isn't my story to tell, I will refrain from doing so. In this process however, I will lose Little E. He has been the light of my life for more than a year, and I loved spending every second with him that I could. He has morphed from a socially awkward and very outburst-prone barely 5-year-old to a funny, outgoing and well-adjusted 6-year-old. The chaos in his life has subsided as much as possible, and he is doing incredibly well in school. He gives real hugs with everything he has instead of the backward hugs that he used to give because he was scared to touch people. He gives me sloppy kisses on the cheek. He yells my name when he sees me coming. He makes me smile. 

There is no way to stop the tears from coming as I write this. None. He was the first child that I identified with as someone I needed to protect for the rest of his young life. He will no longer be mine to protect soon. I won't be able to swoop in and save him from danger or want to yell at people who look at him funny. 

I think I always knew this day would come. I didn't really see life with him in it for the forever, but that doesn't mean that I don't love him something fierce

The hardest part it that I don't know what would be easier for the two of us to make the transition less frightening for him. Do I stick around and take him for ice cream and to play for a few months so that he knows I didn't abandon him? Or will that be too confusing? Do I call him, if his mother will let me, to let him know that I still love him and I always will? Or do I give him one last big hug and hold him as long as he'll let me, and then drive away knowing that he's probably going to forget most of my existence? Moreso, what am I doing for him, and what am I trying to do to make myself feel better? Even as it breaks my heart, this should be about the 6-year-old who is losing his way of life, not about the 26-year-old who will get over it. 

Kids are resilient. He has people who love him, regardless how dysfunctional they are. He will be okay.

The question is, will I be?

The weepiness is just beginning. 

And remember, it's hip to be square( and broken-hearted), kids. 

Femin-ish

I don't know if I'm a feminist. Sometimes I am. Other times I'm not. I think that gender roles, though adjustable, exist for some reasons that are good, but can be totally ignored if you so please. I think that women are equal to men, but there are some things that women should do and others that men should do. I also think that as long as partners discuss these things, they should be disregarded as is fit for the family.

This is going somewhere, I assure you. And it isn't political.

When we were driving all over the lame universe (read: the American Southwest) this week, I had to book a hotel at the last minute. We had just gotten into Albuquerque (read: the worst place ever), and we were exhausted. I found a hotel on my phone, and went to book it via the Interwebz. Obviously, they needed a name to put the room under. For some reason, my mind went to my parents' relationship. The room is always booked under my dad's name even though my mother always does the travel planning. Using them as a model, I put it under my husband's name and clicked "book".

And then I got really mad at myself.

I am independent. I fight to maintain my independence. I rely on my husband for very little, not because he isn't willing to help, but because I just like to do things for myself. I felt like June Cleaver for a minute. All of a sudden, because I put a hotel room under my husband's name instead of my own, I was going to have to quit my job, start wearing aprons all the time, and scrub the house on my hands and knees daily. I felt like I set myself back half a century because I deferred to him on something.

I'm not sure why this was such a big deal, but it bugged me for the entire trip. I love my husband, but I love my independence. I took his name, but I get to keep my identity. I know this is just a minor incident that is magnified in the presence of an ongoing struggle within my own mind, but I don't know how to find the balance between independence and, well, subservience. I don't want to be in charge. I just want to be equal. I want my name to matter just as much even though I changed it to match his.

I don't want to be primarily a married woman. I want to be a kick ass, business owning, friendly, helpful, hilarious, humble woman who is also married. And some day will have babies. Some day.

I also want to know why this was such a freaking big deal. The act of booking the hotel room took a whole 30 seconds.

As always, it's hip to be square (and confused), kids.

VACATION... Ugh.

I am a workaholic. I regularly work 80 hours per week, and I'm always on call. I can get an hour or so off by calling my assistant and asking him to cover the phones, but that's pretty much the extent of the breaks that I get.

...And I love it. I wouldn't trade my job or any of my responsibilities for anything. I built this company from the ground up, and I plan to continue to pour my soul into it. 

Anyway, my husband and family have been insisting that I need a break. I didn't really disagree, but my idea of a break was different from theirs. I wanted to take a few days off and lay on the couch. My husband wanted to take a vacation.

I hate vacations. 

I like being at home. I like my bed, my things and my dogs. I like to lay on my couch, eat off my plates and have cell service all the time. 

These are things that don't happen when you're driving across the country and back in 9 days. 

That was my husband's idea of a relaxing break. 

To be fair, it was a nice trip that ended at the Grand Canyon. The Grand Canyon was incredible. It was worth the drive and the stress. I was worth the anxiety and the long hours. It was amazing. 

However, the so called "good idea" that was the vacation included the phone systems at work going down as a result of the Sandy who hit almost 2,000 miles away from us, my husband getting hit by a car (he's fine), learning that I really dislike the American Southwest, eating a bunch of highly recommended restaurants that were terrible, and a whole lot of altitude sickness.

It was worth it, but I didn't do much for my opinion of vacations in general. Next time, I'm sticking with my couch and my pup. I cannot go wrong with those two.

As always, it's hip to be square (and more exhausted post-vacation than pre), kids.