I woke up this morning in Cheyenne, Wyoming. No, this isn't some other installment of the Hangover. I don't have the stamina for that sort of folly these days. I like my sleep a little too much and a bit more than I like my tequila. Most days.
My first thought was not, "Cheyenne, shit"* but instead, "Ugh. I feel so distant from H." I could say that a note from a friend set off this train of thought last night which propelled me into more deep thoughts this morning, but the truth is that this has been weighing on my mind the last few days. If it is weighing on my lug-headed mind then I am sure H is feeling it too.
Have I talked to him about it? No. No, I have not. I've been traveling and in between that we have just been flat-out busy. It's not as bad as it was by any means, but we haven't been to counseling in a month and we haven't been doing our homework and we have put our relationship on the back burner and just been going on about our busy daily lives. I hate it. It shows. I want the serenity and constant back and forth back. I feel lost again and it bothers me more than I can say.
When I return we are home for a day and then off again, as a family this time. My hope is that the night time drive will give us time to talk as the kids sleep in the back seat. We don't need to go in depth, we just need to re-connect. To check-in. I guess we will always have to and that is yet another thing I am learning on this journey of marriage.
I'm calling 2011 the year of marriage betterment or something else that is more catchy but I'm feeling about as arid as Cheyenne right now not up to such creative heights.
*Bonus points if you get this reference to one of my favorite movies. You rock!
You can't be mad. You just can't be. Frustrated? Yes, I will cop to being frustrated that my flight was canceled for the third time and I am being forced to stay overnight in a city I don't like much at all, but I can't be mad.
Why?
Because the reason my flight is canceled is because of tornadoes, floods and disastrous storms happening right now in the mid-west. People are losing their loved ones and homes because of these horrendous weather events. What do I lose? I come home a day late. I have to wear my shirt two days in a row and my gym granny panties because that is all I have left that is clean. But I have that. I have clean underpants and somebody else can't find their baby because of those damned tornadoes.
I haven't yelled, I only stomped my foot once and that was because after moving to multiple locations including outside the airport I couldn't hear the customer service representative telling me my new flight information. Airports are so freakin' noisy with their automatic doors, beeping people movers, overhead announcements and floor buffers. Everyone around me had the most inane, obnoxious ring tones on their cell phones ever going all at once. A symphony of electronic muzastic crap. Those customized ring tones are like music on blogs to me. Just terrible and tacky.
I ate at a restuarant that time forgot tonight, but I had a hot meal. I will sleep in a dinky motel room tonight because everywhere else is booked because of these cancelations, but I have a place to sleep. I have a home to go home to, hopefully tomorrow, and I can't complain about any of that.
It's all about choosing to see the bigger picture and putting things into perspective.
Words you never want to hear from the car rental representative-
"Ma'am are you sure you want to return this car? Maybe you might want to check to see if your flight is still going out today? Now, ma'am, why are you looking at me so funny?"
I made it home. That's all that matters. The trips are done. I am relieved.
You know you are in a tiny hotel room when you can see every part of the room from every part of the room.
You know you are in a tiny hotel room when you have to stand in the shower to shut the bathroom door.
You know you are in a tiny hotel room when you iron your shirt for work that day and it sets off the smoke alarm in your room.
I'm afraid I might start hitting the walls with my ever-growing stomach next.
Oh, sad little, lonely blog. I've been so neglectful these past few weeks as I live my own version of the movie, "Up in the Air". Each day I wake up in a different bed, my cell phone alarm chiming away at me. A breakfast suprise awaits me as I head to the lobby or to venture out on my own to find some food. The worst was the area that didn't have a single place open for breakfast and I had to resort to chugging instant oatmeal out of a cup with out even a spoon. This was also the same place that had no internet service. Hello, 1994!!!
Good times.
My bank account will be happy, the review site will be brimming with hotel and car reviews too. I'll be debuting my new brand of review, "Sneak Attack!" style reivew, so stay tuned. Hotels around the country considered yourself warned.
It's fun, tiring and a great way to feel independent as I navigate new areas, work with various types of people and organizations and find new places to sustain myself. I miss H and I miss the kids but I have yet to miss our daily grind. When clients say to me, "How do you do this while being pregnant?" I just smile and say, "THIS is a whole lot easier than climbing the stairs of a townhouse all day long with two small kids, laundry and all that entails." And it's true. Giving presentations, delegating and overseeing events is less of a strain on me than making three squares, cleaning a home, running errands with little ones in tow and all the while trying to work. To me, this is cake.
I've been in Florida this past week. I should be soaking up the rays from the sun but the windy temps have kept me working away at my laptop in the confines of my hotel room. I've ventured out for meals and post-dinner exploring with H, but not much else.
If it sounds like a drag it isn't. I'm reveling in the fact that I can get this much work done. I'm booked for trips through April now and I feel alive again. I feel like Vicky and not a drone. I've accomplished tasks and feel like my brain is no longer mush. On my jaunts out for lunch and dinner I've tasted some amazing food at local venues (quiche to die for and a chocolate cake that made me smile for almost an hour straight) and enjoyed the warmer temps and ability to wear wedge heels without chasing a tiny being around and breaking a cankle.
It goes beyond saying that H and I have had full conversations, discussed the girls in-depth and felt like we were dating again. We needed that. I needed that. I've missed him more than I even realized. The break from the norm, the routine, the household duties, the childcare and just all of it has enabled me to focus on this pregnancy too. It almost (I said, almost.) makes me tear up when I think about how little time I've devoted to just rubbing my belly and thinking about this next baby. I've bought nice clothes to celebrate how I look this week and concentrated on rest and eating good food. I'm doing what I need and what I allowed myself to do with both girls. Something I haven't had the luxury of this time around. I want this baby to feel wanted even if it didn't start out that way (Ok, forget almost.). In a few weeks we will find out if it is a boy or girl. The talk of names can truly begin and maybe then I will be able to fully own this pregnancy and not think of it as a back-burner, mark on the calendar thing on my to-do list.
I hope this feeling will last.
Being woken up at 5:30 in the morning by a four year-old whining that she is hungry is maddening. When that said four year-old is accompanied by a waving long-beamed flashlight that glows across your room making it feel like your being invaded by aliens? Well, that is just a recipe for evil. Throw in the four year-old then knocking on her sister's door while calling her name and you have two parents who can only dream of the fact that they are going away A-L-O-N-E this weekend while they grumble into their pillows and bemoan their early morning existence.
That's right. Bright and early Friday morning we are dropping TD and The Comedian off at their grandparents house for a weekend of spoiled, late bedtimes, chicken nugget, juice box bliss. Quite frankly, I just don't care either. All I can think about right now is sleeping in Saturday morning, eating multiple meals while having a real, uninterrupted conversations with H and watching the Hershey Bears play Saturday night.
We're going back to Hershey this weekend for two days of factory tours, chocolate, spa treatments, chocolate, hockey, chocolate and more. I would start counting the hours now if my brain could function like that today but it won't. For now, I'm just content to dream of the fireplace in our room, the quiet drive there and back, as well as all that time alone with H that we so badly need. I'm just so excited to spend all that time with only him.
Oh, if only I could uncover the photograph taken of me from Christmas 1985. You would see a pink-sponge curler topped Vicky in a lilac bathrobe clutching a giant tome of a book about the size of my torso while a face-cracking smile threatens to bust through the photograph.
For weeks I would drag my mother to the book store so I could gaze longingly at Robert Ballard's book, The Discovery of the Titanic, in all it's full color glory. Filled with beautiful illustrations, actual photographs from the deep sea wreck as well as those from it's maiden voyage, this book was all I wanted for Christmas. I memorized it before I even owned it.
Before it was in print I had watched television specials, read articles and checked out every book about the Titanic from my local library. I was a kid obsessed. The story of its passengers, crew and creation riveted me and it still does today.
Then thanks to Twitter and Meagan Francis I learned about THIS!
Is it too morbid?
Would you do it?
I'm deathly afraid of cruise ships (gee, I wonder why.) but I think I might hyperventilate, in a good way, just from reading the website. The whole excursion** sounds like a major historical geek-fest that might actual border on art. Unless of course somehow a bit DiCaprio is thrown in, which would force me to abandon ship. No pun intended.
I think I might start swooning at any moment. Quick! Get me the Draper's fainting couch!
*Don't get your panties in a wad H. The trip isn't until 2012. I'm not leaving you again. Heh.
**Will book now for review or if a generous company wants to let me live out a childhood dream. Yes, I'm serious. I never kid about the Titanic.
You know what rocks?
-Actually managing to surprise your best friend with a visit. E thought her boyfriend's mother was coming into town. Lo and behold, c'est moi! She jumped me like a spider monkey as soon as the shock wore off. That alone was worth the trip.
- A $20 foot massage that really is a full body one. Why don't we have those in my area?!
- Finding designer duds for less at consignment stores on Melrose and watching LA rich girls drop off never worn clothing while wearing tanks emblazoned with the words, "Trifling Ass Bitch".
- Absinthe. I can see the point of that stuff. Really. I like a spongy world.
-Having loads of time to hang out with my best friend that I haven't seen in a year and a half whether it was on the couch in our pj's, in a club, taking a walk or sinking our feet into some Malibu beach sand while sipping Bloody Mary's and noshing on a fried platter of goodness.
Guess where I am today and all through Saturday?
I'll give you a few hints.
- You may not hunt moths under a streetlight.
- Toads may not be licked.
- Nobody is allowed to ride a bicycle in a swimming pool.
Finally, there are over 75 Starbucks in this city.
Figure out where I am by Monday, September 28, 2009 and I'll give you a free month of advertising on Mummy's Product Reviews. I'll put up your button, favicon, link - whatever and list your blog, website or company as a Fun Find in the month of October (That's an over $40 value.).
I am surly today. Call me CPM - Cranky Pants Mason.
I decided that it would be a fabulous idea to suck just one more sunny ounce out of summer and hit the road with the girls again this week. Beach bound we got on the highway and down came the rain. Winds blew and tiny mouths became gaping black holes of want and whine accompanied by fists of fury and destruction. "I want, I want, I want..." It was all I heard until one of the dictators passed out along side the other despot in the back seat. Silence and sunshine ensued for much of the trip.
Until I got lost. Why is it that just when you miss a turn the peanut gallery in the backseat decides to create a list of demands so long and loud that you miss all the other eight turns the GPS is barking out at you in its super polite British accent? Suddenly your white knuckling the steering wheel and channeling Clint Eastwood. You switch to bellowing out wicked witch style phrases like, "Silence, you fools!" only to turn into Walter Matthaeu two seconds later.
Now, dark rain clouds threaten the day and I am red-eyed and fog-brained from lack of sleep. Both girls were up all night and in and out of my bed. When TD announced that she was afraid of the green and red sparkly thing with fangs lurking by my bed I almost called my own Mommy to come save us.
I see much beach side brooding and dark cloud watching in our future today. A steady diet of cupcakes, Bloody Mary's and Lattes also sounds pretty fab. Somehow though I don't think that last part is going to happen.
On the bright side, my email contained this little badge today. It made my day.
Find me here as well. Never before seen photos uncovered!
"Are we going to Pretzel land today?" TD asks continuously. To her Pennsylvania is the land of the giant pretzel thanks to her US Maps placemat. However, after this weekend I am quite sure PA will be known as Chocolate World from here on out.
I'm doing laundry like a whirling dervish today. I just finished unpacking myself from my trip and off we go again. I'm looking forward to this opportunity for some downtime with the family. Lately our schedules have been so missed matched that we are almost never home at the same time. The kids are coming and going and so are we.
I'm not concerned about the car ride to Hershey. We've got car trips down. Rather I'm deeply, deeply concerned about us all sharing a hotel room. We've got light sleepers, we've got nappers and we all have different bed times. Dictators don't sleep well when others are present. I fear The Comedian will feel the need to put on a late, late show complete with hysterical meltdowns if we are all in one room together.
You know what else I fear? The fact that I spent so much of the early part of the summer Shredding, running and in general trying to get fit again and then since Blogher I've let it all go. My schedule has been so insane I've been scarfing down disgusting travel/event food and not only am I pasty white (That whole skin cancer thing!) but I'm a pile of squish right about now. I'm not to jazzed about putting on my swimsuit. I'm slathering on the sunless tanner and wondering if I should try and draw abs on with it. Sounds like a fab idea, no?
Aside from all that though it is already August and I feel like this is the first time it will really feel like summer. We are hitting the road, this hockey fan wants to see The Bears' Den and we're all excited beyond belief to be spending this time together as a family.
Funny, I have yet to see a scene like this since I've arrived in the desert. I've seen my fair share of tumbleweeds, abandoned buildings and prehistoric dragonfly type insects that scare the beejeezus out of me. Oh and some vicious little black beetles that like to crawl under my hotel door at night and scoot around the floor. Frightening!
It is more like this-
My fine dining choices consist of Applebee's and Chili's and I'm done. You would think I could find an interesting little Mexican eatery but alas there is nada. Ooh, I'm already speaking the language. Heh.
Did I mention that the hotel hair dryer doesn't work? I'm sportin' the most interesting do. It's part beach wavy, part matted mangy dog hair hot mess. I had to conduct a training session like that yesterday. Today I'm out greeting the public looking like I just spent the night on a side walk. By the time my red-eye flight rolls into DC tomorrow I will be looking like I let some desert tweakers style my hair.
If you can figure out where I am, I'll send you something interesting.
Ontario, CA that is. Not the Canuck one.
To Whom it May Concern at the Ontario TSA:
On my April 20 jaunt through your sadly depleted of all food services airport (seriously?! it was 4 pm and all restaurants were closed at 2 pm! Hello! Starvation!!) I was welcomed by not one but five security staff as I ran my bags through your security system. Clearly, you all have a lot of time on your hands. I abide by your rules to a 't'. I removed my shoes and laptop. My bag, shoes and special baggie of 3 ounce toiletries were placed in the bin and my laptop in a separate one. See? Rule follower, that is me! I waited my turn in line to go through the metal detector like a good citizen too. Oh wait, there wasn't a line. It was just me. Still, I passed with flying colors. I sprinted bare foot to catch my bags and saw you stop my carry-on suitcase. That's totally fine. The black bag within a bag got you. That pesky breast pump was at it again.
This time I even smiled calmly and said to the female screeners (all two of you for one machine), "It's my breast pump, happens all the time." We chuckled and my bag went through the machine. Then something funny happened. One of you decided not to believe me and had to open my bag to check. Fine. Totally fine. You then decided that my entire toiletry bag needed to be dumped despite having everything that is a liquid already in the plastic baggie. When I asked why that was being done you shoved a placard in my face with the rules. Whatever. Do what you must with the mascara that ISN'T a liquid. Moron. See, I'm getting testy now. You bent my heels on my shoes, pawed through my dirty laundry (literally) and then went to work on my breast pump. This is where I have a MAJOR bone of contention with you Ontario TSA. Did you really need to call three additional security people over to look over the breast pump? You swabbed it down because of a foreign substance first. Heh. Breast milk spatter perhaps? Rocket science, I swear. You frisked me up and down with your wand. Indeed, the woman is engorged and lactating. All systems are go! I had no idea that wand could detect mother's milk. How high tech we are these days. Did I put security at threat level orange after that?
I was fine with all this I swear. OK, wait. Not true. I was getting a bit heated now. However, when three men decided to try and pry the motor out of the pump case I decidedly did get a bit heated under the collar and said through clenched teeth, "Please! That is a $300 dollar breast pump! Do not pull on the motor you will break it!!" You all chuckled and said, "Ma'am, we know what it is and how much it is worth." Fine. SO STOP F*CKIN' PAWING AT IT! My blood pressure was roiling at this point and my fists were clenching and unclenching. I'm sure if I saw a mirror image of myself at that moment it would have been very much like Mrs. White from 'Clue' - "Flames, on the side of my face, breathing-breath- heaving breaths. Heaving breath..." As if that was not enough you then tried to pull apart the black pump bag and lift the motor out from the storage compartment. I wanted to cry and scream and gnash teeth and kick you all in the groin with a knife-blade stiletto.
This is where I learned that we women get can get all crazy-killer animal like when our kids are endangered but also when you mess with our breast pumps as well.
Note to the TSA- I'm all about airport safety and security. Just don't effin' touch my pump like that ever again. When I used it the next day the right side suction was hiccuping and I had to slam the casing back together again. If it had broken I sure as hell would have sent you a bill.
You know it is just so awesome when you hear the words, "We're going to need to do a bag check..." and you know that bag is yours. That bag that will soon be pawed through contains only two things- work clothes and your breast pump.
Ooh, that scary black bag within a bag. Dun, da, da, dun dun.
When the tech asked, "Ma'am is there anything in this bag that is sharp and could attack me?" Umm... you mean like a cougar? No. I really wanted to say, "No, sir! Just watch out for yer teets! There's some major suction in them there breastsheilds, they might just suck yer fingers clear to the bone."
Note to self: Next time don't pack your panties in the breast pump storage space. Saving space isn't as important as keeping airport security from de-sterilizing all your gear and touching your unmentionables.
I'm giving away a Robbert Bobbert CD and a Gazillion Bubble Machine at MPR this week!
Holy Melting Hell.
I'm in New England for a bit of a breather. TD and I did the solo flight up here yesterday and can I just say that if a plane full of kids can be fab then we had it? Yes, Virginia it really is possible to soar through the air with the greatest of ease and actually have a kid who thinks even the bumpy parts of the plane ride are fun. "More bumps," TD exclaimed and "Faster! More Faster!" I think I fell in love with her a bit more, if that is possible, in those moments.
Now for the holy melting hell part. I'm up here chillin', maxin', wishin' I was at a pool or ocean but no, indeed I am glued to my hot box of a laptop working. Le Sigh.
I am swelling and pissy.
Not a good combo in even the non-pregnant.
Thank goodness for grandparents who actually go on solo excursions with the child and take full control while I spin out of it.
Later, Internets I'm off to the trenches. Hi, ho, Hi ho....
P.S. Please check out MPR today. Good reviews and I'm giving away a copy of Meet the Sight Words.
I may be a lucky SOB of a blogger for not getting hate mail but I am a lazy one too.
Quite spontaneously on Friday, we decided to blow our pop stand of a town and leave our community pool in the dust for the weekend. We headed south in search of cool riverside breezes and the ‘only for us’ pool that is my mother in law’s house. I feel like Wallace from ‘The Wire’ as I listen to a sound that has become foreign to me. It is the sound of crickets at night. Despite having such prehistorically large crickets in our basement that jump out at you like ghouls in the night, we do not ever hear them even in suburbia. I had forgotten lightening bugs existed as well.
So here we are.
No Wi-Fi for me and barely any cell reception, ridiculously behind on my work.
T.D. as spoiled as ever by almost two weeks of non-stop Nana time.
I’ve spent the last few days doing nothing but reading, Oil!, seeing not a moment of television and eating succulent peaches, juicy pieces of melon and gazing with white hot longing at everyone else’s perspiring bottles of beer. I might give an arm right now for a bottle of Blue Moon Pale Ale if asked but instead I content myself to lay by the pool soaking up some sunscreen halted rays of sun. It is the last of this for a while because as of the end of last week we had some rather big news.
H has a new job and it starts in a week.
The back to school countdown has begun.
I'm headed to BlogHer tomorrow. It's my first time. Be gentle with me. I realized this morning amidst my cramming in other blogging stuff and figuring out what to pack that the last time I was in lovely and chilly San Fran I had to buy fat pants to board the plane.
That's right. You heard me. FAT PANTS. I think it deserves the all caps.
Never before had I gained weight like that so fast. Two weeks in S.F. eating at Mel's, on Bay Street, The Garlic Rose and more and all I came back with was a taste for fine food and an expanded waist line. I remember trying to squeeze into my jeans and having to head to the nearest Gap in horror as I bought a pair of men's drawstring cargo pants. I still own them too dammit and that was back in the year 2000. I use them as snow pants now so I can layer up.
This go round? It's a new type of fat pants complete with an elasticized waist of what feels like steel. Maternity pants. Yippie damn shippymacflippyshadippy. I keep reading all these posts about what to wear and pack for BlogHer and all I can think is, do maternity capris count? If I wear an extra pound of make up and mousse in my hair maybe it will distract others from the fact that my shoes no longer fit and I only wear flip flops now? As for keeping warm in the colder climes of NoCal (is that a word?) I have a light sweater. I possess my own furnace right now and am hardly cold. If anything I might shove someone for simply standing too close and sucking heat off me.
I'm nice I swear.
I smile sometimes too. Just ask these fine ladies.
Speaking of traveling, MPR is holding a giveaway of some handy dandy road trip products- Blink Smudge wipes, Prestone fuel cleaner and more! Go ahead - you know you want to enter!
