Uh, WHAT?!

For about a thousand reasons, the chances of getting pregnant up until now have been slim to none. Life hasn't been ready to allow it, and we've been biding our time waiting for it to be a better time while fully acknowledging that life doesn't slow down and signal that it's time to create chaos.

We weren't actively trying even though we swore we would, but I certainly couldn't get the baby thoughts off my brain. They were constant. Making one, having one, raising one, disagreeing about one. If I were one of my patients, I probably would have asked Doc to medicate me, but it's never that simple when it's you. I'm trying to find a way to make this work and happen because there are moments when I feel like there will be nothing else if not this. Nothing.

Anyway, with all of this obsessing, it was thrilling to feel like we may just be the tiniest bit in control of this. My body coordinated with our schedules coordinated with our level of exhaustion and BAM. All of a sudden, there's a chance. Obviously, it will be a while before we know if anything happened and statistically, it's not exactly likely, but the chance is still there. I was happy. I was excited. 

I WAS FLIPPING THE FUCK OUT. 

All of a sudden, this shit is real. All of a sudden, there's no going back. Is this really what I want? Am I excited about the reality or about the idea? Am I going to regret this decision? Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. 

This is the last thing that I expected. This is not the reaction that I though I would have. Oh. My. Bob. What am I getting myself into?

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

I Am The Worst Friend

No. Really. 

On the scale of shit friends, I am one of the shittiest. 

I like to believe that I am always there to comfort or celebrate when appropriate, but lately, I feel like I have been none of what I want to be. 

A very close friend announced that she is pregnant. The news got to me later than most people because of my general lack of involvement in things that go on outside of my head, but I did eventually find out. 

And I immediately started sobbing on a "holy shit I can't breathe" level. 

I did this weird thing that I do where I sit on the bathroom counter and curl up in a ball and just hate the world. 

This, my friends, makes me awful. 

This particular friend and I had talked about our hesitations about embarking into parenthood and how neither of us were sure that it was a good time. We discussed the lack of control in the whole situation while being unsure what the next step was.  We both run business and call all the shots, so the idea of not being in control of much of anything was just overwhelming to us both. 

Overwhelming in that "Eh, fuck it. Let's do it anyway" way, clearly. 

I should have been celebrating with her, but instead, I was sobbing on my bathroom counter because, well, I suck. I felt like she stole my happy. I was so angry. We were supposed to do it together, or, at by least, I was supposed to be first. Why? I don't fucking know. Probably because I'm a spoiled fucking child who wants to be in control of everything and wants what she wants now now now. 

Also because marriage is hard and coordinating life with a schedule for making babies is exhausting enough even before you actually do any of the work. 

Underneath it all, I know that eventually I will be able to be the friend that I should be. It's been a week now and I almost feel capable of calling or texting her and asking her how things are going. That is a big improvement from never wanting to talk to her again. 

Why yes, I am that big of an asshole. 

I just wish I understood why I have this never ending need. Life is so good right now. Most of what I love about my life will go away in the blink of a newborn eye. 

I suppose the point is that none of this makes sense because it is all purely emotional and when are those things ever logical? The lack of logic in it is what makes it human. I am not a column of snark like I pretend to be. I do hurt a lot sometimes. I don't share that often because I like to believe myself to be something different. 

Let's be honest. I cry at Publix commercials. 

So, I'll figure this one out in just enough time for someone else to announce their good news and knock me back a step or two. That's just how it is, but it will get less hard every time. Hopefully, it will stop being difficult all together when I can make the same announcement. Maybe not. Eventually, I am going to have to accept my lack of control in this situation and just let go. 

HAH. YEAH RIGHT. Just wanted to see if I could say it with a straight face. 

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

Update: Someone did make the same announcement today, and I handled it much better. You know, for now. Being crazy makes things a little unpredictable.

I've Injured Better Men For Less

I can put up with pretty much anything. I have days where I am the most patient person on the planet. Others less so, but I still have a longer fuse than most in mort situations.

I think.

Regardless, there's one thing I cannot stand for ever. There is almost never a time when it's okay. I'll reach the poor of near violence if you do it, and you might not live to see the resolution. 

Don't take my phone. 

I assure you that I have killed better men for less. 

Not really. But I like to pretend that I have. I'm pretty small and not likely able to be all that dangerous. 

But, like, a little. 

I don't like to feel like people can't get to me. I don't like to feel like I'm isolated. I need to have access to information all the time. I've been that way for my whole life. I don't like to watch DVDs when I can watch TV because if there's breaking news, it will be on the television. 

My husband thinks it's cute to take my phone and see me flip a shit.

It's not cute. It's never cute. 

He hates that I'm so attached to my phone. I don't necessarily like it, but if rather have it then have the ensuing panic attack that comes from not having it. 

Sue me. I'm a spazz. 

A spazz who HATES feeling disconnected. 

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

What Do I Want? Good Question.

So what do I want from life?

I have no fucking idea. 

Some days I get home and collapse onto the couch after work. In those moments, I'm so glad to be only responsible for myself. I mean, hubs likes to be fed, but he's capable of feeding himself when necessary. I can soak in a bathtub or watch an evening full of Big Bang Theory without guilt about ignoring anyone who demands attention. I may feel a little guilty that the house isn't clean enough or the laundry needs to be done, but no one is suffering for my laziness.

In those moments, I truly do not know what I want. I question whether I want to give up the quiet house and the free time (more like extra hours at work) and the limited obligations. I wonder whether spending time with other people's kids is enough. Do we really need our own? Can we just be the cool Aunt and Uncle who can afford to buy nice things for our siblings' kids because we don't have any of our own? Can I be fulfilled enough with what we have and not desperately need more? 

I already know the answers to all of these questions. I don't think they really change anything, but they're there, and, for that reason, they probably deserve some attention. 

It's hip to be square, kids. 

$&#!?

Husband and I took our nephew fishing today. He's 9, and he's a really good kid. Laid back, patient, silly. Pretty easy to manage.

The only reason I am writing this is to get something out of my system. 

FUCK FUCK FUCK SHIT PISS FUCK GOD DAMMIT. 

Also know as: Things I'm trying desperately not to say in front of a 9 -year-old 

FUCK. How do you parents do it?

Seriously. I feel like I am going to explode with all of the words I'm not allowed to say.


As always, it's hip to be square (and $&@*&!), kids. 

I Don't Want To Die Today

I am a mess in the car. 

A total, all-out, spazz tard of immeasurable proportions. 

When other people are driving, that is. 

I was not always like this. I have always been a little nervous, but not "keep your eyes closed the whole time  and don't even breathe because we're all going to die" kind of nervous. 

Then my husband came along. 

To be fair, he has never done anything to put me in danger or injure me in a vehicle. He just has this thing where he would rather be dead and right than alive and worry that other not fully understand their idiocy. 

I don't want to die because that person is an idiot. 

When someone comes into his lane, he won't move because it's "his lane" and they're the idiot. If someone cuts him off, he'll do it right back.

Yes, they are stupid, bad drivers. I JUST DON'T WANT TO DIE TODAY. 

Silly me.

I also have terrible depth perception. When I'm not the driver, I always think cars are way closer than they are. 

To be clear, my husband is a way better driver than I am or will ever be. I am female, after all. I would just like to get out of the car once or twice without feeling like I'm on the verge of a panic attack? Is that so much to ask. 

The problem is that when he does the grand, sweeping motions of aggressive driving, I tense up and freak the fuck out, and then he thinks everything is cool and over. Nope. I'm going to be agitated and irritable for a while. 

I can't control my anxiety, but you can control your road rage. Otherwise, you get bitchy wife for a minute or ten up until in relaxed enough to let her go away. Don't like it? Don't scare the shit out of me on the regular. 

Sorries!

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

Boys and Their Toys

Husband likes cars. He knows everything about them, where they're made, how they work and if they're reliable or not. 

He also likes to get new ones fairly frequently.

Ok, once every year or two.

Yes, it's expensive.

I'm usually the one holding the purse strings and going "What if we get one that's cheaper than that, huh? Maybe like a Kia or something?"

Did I mention that he also likes the nicest of everything?

Yeah. No Kias for him.

Anywhoozie, he got it into his head recently that his IS 250 was not enough car for him. He had a Tahoe that he traded in for a G35 that he traded in for the IS 250. To be honest, we missed the trunk space. Every time we need to move something, which is way more often that we thought it would be, we have to borrow a car from someone or rent one from Home Depot. It's a time suck and it's annoying. 

First world problems. I know.

When he decided that he was tired of the sedan, I really wasn't all that concerned about getting the new car. Actually, I was okay with it. He was waiting for a fight on how much is was going to cost and how we were going to pay for it and do you think this is a good idea and I feel like we just got the sedan and blah blah blah. (For the record, all of that sounds like the teacher on Charlie Brown to him. It's never effective.) Furthermore, he had never had a brand new car before, and I the idea of that was really exciting to him. 

Thus begins the hunt for what I dubbed The Monster Truck.

Do we need a huge truck? Nope. Do we ever go anywhere where we would use the 4x4? Nope. Do we carry around enough people to need the monstrous cab? Negative. Do we tow things? Nope. Does my husband allow anything dirty in his car ever? Negative again. 

So it didn't make a whole lot of sense. But it made him happy. He spends a whole lot of time doing things to make me happy, and I don't spend nearly enough time returning the favor.

Also, it goes VROOM really, really loudly.

Ladies and gentleman, I present to you the newly christened Monster Truck that, within the last 30 seconds, I decided to call Sully. If you don't get the reference, we're not friends.

Sully right after we got him.

Sully next to Mr. Kite in the driveway.
Yes, my car is named Mr. Kite.
If you don't get the reference, we're again not friends.

The only problem with Sully is that it has renewed my husband's desire to run over idiot drivers, and that comes with a fancy side of panic attack for me. I'll deal, I suppose. 

I'm glad that he's happy, and that I got to help him with that for once. 

My only mistake in this was assuming that when we bought the brand new truck it would have everything we needed. I have since found out that we now need a bed liner and new rims and bigger tired and probably a better paint job because the clear coat on this is just not done well enough and did you know that the paint gets water spots and that is pretty much like the end of the world?

Sigh. Here we go again.

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

It's Just Noise

I love my husband. I love him more than just about any human on the planet. I would do anything for him.

Almost anything. 

I'm starting to draw the line on listening to his music. 

Whenever we're in his car, I'm subjected to his musical tastes. It varies from gangster wrap to electronic obnoxiousness that makes me want to jump off a cliff. 

The repetitive NOISE that is house and electronic music gives me a headache. More than that, it gives me anxiety. There is something about the repetition and, just, the unnatural sound of it all that makes me want to hyperventilate. I feel like I can't breathe or slow my mind down. I start to feel trapped, and I just want to leave wherever I am. 

Thats difficult when you're in a car, but don't think I haven't considered it at a red light. 

There's also the fact that, as music, it just SUCKS.

I'm sure he thinks most if what I listen to is terrible, but I don't make him want to rip out his own brain and make a smoothie out of it. 

Sigh. Maybe a frontal lobotomy is the answer. 

I have yet to figure out if it would be for me or him. 

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