He's the Rational One

I have been mentally overwhelmed recently.
With work at a steady lull and the never-ending gray weather, I was craving something that sparks my creativity and mental capacity, and boy did I get it!

Between our two home's renovations (which will forever be a weird thing to say) all of a sudden I felt this urge to start making decision on all the little details all at once.

I like to call it being efficient.

In my head (which is a hot mess right now) I figured if I could make decisions for all the paint and all the fixtures right this very second,  I could order everything all at once and only have to make one trip to Home Depot, and/or receive shipments from Amazon and be done with it.

But then I kept second guessing myself...because anyone that has ever done a home renovation project knows that certain things look different in person and tend to change colors once they are actually in the place they will go....and not online or in a store.

So then I'm internally battling with my brain like...YO BITCH...STOP TRYING TO FIGURE EVERYTHING OUT....YOU'RE GOING TO GIVE YOURSELF A PANIC ATTACK AGAIN...DON'T YOU REMEMBER ANYTHING FROM IVF?

And then I went to Orangetheory and the class is so draining that it's basically impossible to think about anything else except for not passing out on the treadmill.

Which is a welcome brain break.
Yes, I basically need to overwhelm my body so much that my brain literally shuts off and focuses on not dying.

So anyways....I get home and immediately jump into the hot-tub where Mark resides because I'm tired and sweaty and my legs are all jiggly (driving home was a breeze).

I'm overwhelmed and I can't shut off my brain, I blurt out.

I am talking a mile a minute which is exactly how my brain is working and I finally look up and Mark is staring at me wide-eyed...which is hilarious because it's not like this doesn't happen on a weekly basis.

He should know by now.

He reassures me of two things.
1. The rental property isn't going to be completed overnight. I don't need to make all the finish decisions all at once and YES he will make sure to inform me when they are happening and not just pick any old thing because he knows I will be pissed at him for not letting me decide.

2. We are completely fine to keep using the upstairs bathroom as our main bathroom for as long as it takes until I am finished with the downstairs renovation in our current home. I kept having major guilt that I was basically changing up our whole routine but it turns out that concern was only affecting me.

Mark reminded me that rushing through the renovation will take all the fun out of it, which is completely true. Plus, you make more mistakes that way.

The silly thing is I know all of this but sometimes it helps to be reminded about it when your brain won't stop jumbling things together. If anyone needs help understanding what anxiety feels like...that last sentence is it. Instead of having a series of logical thoughts, you basically get throat punched by all your thoughts at once and they are fighting for front-line attention.

It's super fun and not at all exhausting.

Switching gears, (you need to keep up with my brain, after all) this morning was a three-ring circus complete with a series of tiny mishaps.

This included making myself late because I insisted on vacuuming before leaving the house because I was sneezing a ton and convinced myself there is too much cat hair upstairs, leaving my hair curlers in too long (from the vacuuming) that resulted in super puffy poodle-ish hair, spilling coffee down my shirt while driving, getting caught by an enormously long freight train, slipping on ice getting out of the car, and the best part...leaving my phone at home.

I called Mark from my work phone and updated him on the tiny catastrophe that was my morning, and being the saint he is...he offered to stop by the house and bring me my phone.

Which got me thinking, AGAIN, that maybe I should back away from social media a bit.
Which is like...exactly what you shouldn't do if you want to be taken seriously as a blogger.
But you know what? Blogging isn't my source of income. It's a fun hobby.

My brain is already super overwhelmed most days....is this just adding to my stress?

I blog to blog because I like it.
I started blogging more often and more chaotically because that is how I actually work.
I don't necessarily have it in me to plan out a lot of things. I am rather impulsive and therefore decided my writing should be too.

It's more ME that way.
Does it make it better or funnier?
Maybe...depending on who you ask.

Well, that's enough rambling for today.

And to think, this post makes him look like the rational one. :)

Thanks for putting up with the nonsense. XO

I Can't Be Killed By Conventional Weapons

Mark mentioned last night that he was feeling extra run down, like he was getting another flu or something.

#jesustakethewheel

I finally (although I never wanted it in the first place) got my first taste of the elusive man-cold every woman on the planet talks about, and the Great Man Flu of 2017 literally just ended a couple weeks ago.

I. Can. Not. Deal. with another go this quickly.

Mark kept asking why it looked like lasers were shooting out of my eyes (a look I perfected while teaching High School Color Guard....you remember, right mama?) and it's because I know what I'm up against and I don't want to go back any time soon....so I ran to the medicine cabinet and threw the containers of Multi-Vitamins and Vitamin C at his face so he could choke down AT LEAST 100 of each.

Then I ever-so-nicely explained to him that he is not exactly a spring chicken anymore and perhaps needs to combat working outdoors in below freezing temps by taking care of himself as if he isn't made of steel. Which is...par for the course...exactly how he has managed the last 39 years of his life.

"I can't be killed by conventional weapons" is what I hear on a daily basis. Not an exaggeration.

Then I replied, perhaps not...but working in literal human shit and then failing to wash your hands the second you leave said shit hole (PUN intended) may be contributing to the ebola virus you seem to get on a monthly basis these days.

In other news, I was required to leave the safe-haven of my warm living room this week and head back into work, forced into the cold, sporting polka-dot mittens while steering this beast of a vehicle I now drive to combat this horrid weather.

PSA: Going from a luxury sedan to a Hum-Vee sure makes you realize that air-ride suspension and consistently working seat heaters is a real treasure in life. #blessed

And because I'm all for well-thought out, planned decisions, I booked us a vacation to Key Largo as soon as possible so we can pretend we don't live in the North-fucking-Pole for a week.

And then I told Mark about it when I got home. He said Hell Yea.

I knew all those points we racked up from IVF would come in handy some day. And that day came in the form of a free-trip as far South as I can get without a passport.

The goal this weekend is likely to stay indoors as much as possible and avoid seeing people so we can continue our efforts to stop un-necessary spending. I have a few to-do items around the house that include re-organizing and purging...my two favorite verbs during winter.

Pray hubby fights off this flu and I don't contract anything in the process.
Amazon sells SARS masks, right?

Thanks for reading. XO

A Typical Morning Convo

During the winter, Mark doesn't have to rush off to work before sunrise since he tends to spend most of his days outdoor and the weather is currently -390. In the sun.

Therefore, we get to actually see each other in the mornings and it's sort of....insane.

Mark has been up at least an hour before me so that he can eat his Eggo's and watch Fox News, while I'm struggling to not hit snooze for the 11th time and make it out the door by 7am since it's an Orangetheory Day and my schedule cannot. be. messed. up.

Once Mark has successfully inhaled his morning sugar breakfast, he will burst into the bathroom, always while I'm drying my hair and can't really hear that well and he'll start off with something like this.

We need to talk about your recycling habits.

No, we don't. I recycle and care about the environment. The end. *as I flip my head upside down to perfect the bouffant I am trying to attempt for work*

You can't just throw out candles with wax in them. 

It's glass. Glass is recyclable. I don't see the issue. 

The issue is there is wax in them.

Then take it up with Bed Bath because I'M NOT THE ONE that designed the candles that don't burn out all the wax. And I tried doing the freeze-the-wax-outta-them thing and all it ended up doing is exploding in our freezer and leaving shards of glass everywhere.

You never cleaned that out?

What does that have to do with your recycling issue?! 

*Mark shakes his head* You can't combine recyclables. If something has garbage in it or two types of recyclable materials, then it can't be recycled.

WHAT ARE YOU THE FUCKING RECYCLE POLICE? DID YOU LEARN THIS IN RECYCLE SCHOOL?! Get off my ass. 

You're basically making us have two garbages instead of one recycling and one garbage bin.

I'm not changing. The recycling people can fix it if they are so concerned. I thought you had that huge conspiracy theory that there isn't a recycling company anyways?! What about that? 

If that's so true then in theory I'm just helping your cause since it doesn't matter anyways right?

I am basically separating our garbage into gross garbage and not-covered-in-ketchup garbage.

If anything I'm helping people in this case. You should be thanking me! 

That's not how it works.

Maybe just spray paint the lid of the recyling bin green and all of this is resolved right? 

*I dab no-itch cream on my neck rash that seemingly popped up out of nowhere*

Does this look contagious? 

*Mark examines himself in the mirror*

Men need hair, you know.

.....what.

I mean, I am devilishly good looking, but this tuft of hair I'm holding on to needs to stay put and not start coming out of my ears.

*I sigh because I have seen a receding halo hairline around the top of his head for quite some time but Heaven forbid I say anything*

Yes, I am well aware of your rugged good looks. It's the main reason I married you.

Damn straight. I gotta go. 

*reaches out and smashes his face into mine in an attempt to kiss my face*

Hot.

Want a Happier Christmas? Do This

ramp up your anxiety meds

Not quite, although I can't say I'm not already doing that.
#ChristmasBluesAreNoJoke

Hands down the easiest way to be happier at Christmas is simple.

STOP GIVING A SHIT ABOUT EV-ER-Y-THING.

See? It's like one step.
Easy peasy.

Let's talk it out, though.

I figured a snarky "do this, not that" post would fit the bill. Ready?

DO give a shit about buying presents for those that deserve it family.
DON'T give a shit about them being perfectly wrapped.

Yes, wrapping paper and tags and bows and ribbons are super cute, but it's also annoying as shit when the seams don't line up, the paper won't cut nicely, the tape gets stuck to your hand, the dogs ass is in the way, and something tears in transit to the party you're headed to.
The expectations are too high these days!

Plus, we all know how quickly those little hyenas (I mean kids, and Hell...my husband for that matter) tear through that beautifully wrapped paper, just to quickly GASP at the present, fling it aside, and move onto the next one.

What took you 20 minutes per present is undone in the blink of an eye.

Side note: I wish I could say I'm one of those people that can pre-wrap gifts and display them under the tree so I can admire my own handi-work. But the reality is, I have a fat bulldog that likes to snoop around and chew up boxes and a really old cat that tends to have trouble finding his litter box.

It's quite the shit show. pun intended

DO spend some time with loved ones
DON'T feel obligated to spend ALL your time with EVERYONE just because it's Christmas.

You have important things to do like sleep, nap, zone out, get drunk and pet your dog, get drunk and admire your Christmas decor, just stop doing stuff for five minutes, etc, etc.

DO plan out the meal if hosting a festive dinner
DON'T get worked up if all the table settings don't match.

Anyone who is anyone I know doesn't own table settings for 20 people.
If you do (where do you keep your secrets?)
SO WHAT if the kids have to eat on paper plates.
SO WHAT if you decide to pull out the 4th of July paper plates FOR EVERYONE because you worked you ass off all day in the kitchen and the LAST thing you wanna do is clean up after all those scavengers destroy your house, eat all your food, and complain about their latest ailments for most of the evening.

I love a good game plan heading into any hosted event. But not all the details need to be perfect. Something catches on fire, dishes get broken, you lose track of time and can't squeeze in a shower, your husband is always no where to be found just as guests arrive (early) and demand cocktails.

Which leads me to....

DO chill champagne and festive beer in the fridge
DON'T expect to serve everyone some hand-shook cocktail all night.

Take a cue from me.
NOW IS NOT THE TIME TO TEST OUT THOSE AMATEUR BARTENDING SKILLS.

I love a fancy cocktail more than anyone, with all the unique ingredients and accouterments, but there is definitely a time and a place.
And that place is most definitely NOT at your big Christmas party (unless you HIRED a bartender, in which case...where is my invite!?)

You know what looks festive AF and takes zero effort?
Pink champagne and a maraschino cherry.
Just give it a fancy name like Rudolph Bubbly and people will think you put more thought into it than you actually did. People just wanna get drunk anyways, so why make it complicated?

DO decorate to some extent for Christmas.
DON'T worry if you give up half-way 

The main thing I keep thinking of with every piece of glitter-bombed decor I put up?
It has to all come down at some point.

And who honestly has time to make their house look like a Homegoods display?!
If you do, more power to you...but it should be because you WANT to, not because you feel obligated.

If it's not, just do what I did and forgo anything on the Christmas tree.
The lights look just fine by themselves. All I have to do is unplug the tree and shove it back in the box in January.

DO make your husband buy some of the gifts on your list
DON'T do it all yourself

AND if you're feeling extra sassy...make him wrap the damn things too. While you're watching him apply his third layer of tape over the wrinkled paper (how did that actually happen?) gulp your wine and remember the above motto....the hyenas will tear it off faster than you can blink an eye.

DO something that brings YOU joy this Christmas
DON'T tailor the magic to everyone else on your list

Just because my husband and I don't have kids doesn't mean we can't do the fun kid-stuff for Christmas! You can bet your ass we'll be buying McDonald's and cruising around one evening looking at all the Christmas lights!

Or just getting all festive in some Christmas pj's and dancing around like fools.
Party of 2 y'all!!

Yes, I know all you women out there can make the most magical moments, pick the best gifts, cook the best food, and host your asses off....but that doesn't mean you have to kill yourself in the process!!

If it brings you joy, do it.
If you hesitate and would rather not.
Fucking don't do it.
You don't need that kind of pressure in your life!

We can't be everything to everyone, and the only person that truly matters is your own personal sense of health and well-being. If things fall off your plate, literally and figuratively, then let it be.

There will always be someone else to gather the pieces or a dog to lick up the scraps.

Tis the season, folks! Thanks for reading!! XO

A Genetic Lab run by Oprah

Oh hai.
Tuesday morning I had my intake phone call with the genetics lab to go over the required steps for PGD testing.

My motto going into all of this is, Move forward with an open mind.

But man, was I a fool to think it would all fall into place right away.
There is SO. MUCH. SET-UP.

So, we have been paired with Reprogenetics in New Jersey who is the company that will set-up our probe to have our embryos tested for not only our matched mutation (MCAD) but the overall chromosonal composition as well.
I think. There is a local lab as well so I'm not sure how all these works together.

I'm going through all the standard questions with a lady named Dina; we discuss family history, any pregnancies, confirm contact information, etc.

And then she throws me a curve ball.

Both sets of parents are required to go in for carrier testing as well.
If they don't, no one moves forward with anything.

.....WHAT

Trying to explain the in's and out's of genetic testing to our parents is the equivalent of trying to fix their computer over the phone...."WHAT DO YOU SEE ON THE SCREEN? What color is it?
NO DON'T DELETE IT. It's on the HOME SCREEN. The screen you're looking at! Click the square icon in the corner. The BOTTOM corner. Now WHAT DO YOU SEE?!"

Ugh.

I called Mark knowing exactly what his reaction would be.
I tell him what he needs to tell his parents and he needs to do it yesterday.

Why?

Because to get the results of carrier screening it can take up to three weeks.
They have to order the tests first, run insurance, schedule the friggin' appointments and all head in, hopefully within days of each other.

Then we wait.

After we get the results sent to the genetic lab, Mark and I have to go in for more blood samples to send the lab more DNA for testing and set-up.
AND....both sets of parents will be mailed a another saliva test where they will swab their cheeks and mail their DNA to the lab as well.

SO. MUCH. DNA.

And then....AND THEN!! We wait again.

After they get all the results, it takes roughly six weeks to complete our probe.

Then we can start IVF.

Holy. Shit. Dudes.

The only saving grace to the longevity of all this waiting is we had not planned to complete any transfers until July, so really, how and when everything else is completed is irrelevant.

It just all needs to be checked off by July to make me happy.

The birth control cycle, all stims administered, eggs retrieved, fertilized and biopsied, cells tested, results waited on....the whole shebang...by July.

That's all I'm asking.
Oh, and of course, all good reports along the way.

OMG.
I then realized I just need to coordinate everything.
Type A at your service.
I call my dad.
If anyone, out of the four parents understands insurance, it's my dad.
I apologize profusely and unload my spiel.
He jumps into action, having me spell out everything.
We go through what he needs to call about, order, schedule, etc...and of course keep me in the loop.

I also called Mark's parents and talked them through everything.
Again with the apologizing and details.
I just knew there would be confusion, so hopefully I can get something scheduled for everyone at the same location.

For good measure, I also emailed our RE to see if he had any recommendations about this.
It seems weird for our parents to be going to a fertility specialist, but at this point...I will go with whatever is less of a hassle and is the quickest.

Super fun update: it's super weird for the RE as well to have parents of the couple trying to conceive come in and get their genetics handled as well. So that option is out.

Edited to say: After MUCH back and forth between the Counsyl reps, our physician, my dad, and the RE....I determined the least stressful route is to order at-home cheek swab kits mailed directly to both parents home. They can swab in privacy, then mail that 'ish back to Counsyl.

Two weeks later, we have our results.
Bada-boom, bada-bing!

Let the chaos continue and thanks for reading!!

For better or for worse

I can't shake October.
I feel like I'm racing towards a finish line of an event I don't even want to be a part of.
And it's bringing out my shitty side. The side I try so very hard to shove way down into the depths of me, never to return.

I'm racing to catch up with all of the things in life.
And I'm tired.
I'm tired of doing, being, moving, putting in the normal effort.
I feel like I'm forcing myself to be sane right now.
Forcing myself to wake up before sunrise to work out.
Forcing myself to prep meals and take actions to avoid weight gain.
Forcing myself to be polite, and patient, and forgiving.
Forcing myself to keep my damn eyes open.
Forcing myself to be nice.

When I really just want to stay in baggy sweatpants, sleep 12 hours a day, and be snarky.
Real mature, I know.

When you have a goal to work towards...like prepping your home for summer, it's fun!
It's fun to put all the work in so that you can chill all summer and have a blast poolside.
But when your goal is just to stay on top of things so you can....stare at each inside to keep from the cold...it sucks.

I realize I am a total pity party of 1 right now.
Is it just me?
With all this negativity and anxiety?

The bags under my eyes actually feel heavy...like they are dragging my face down.
I need to get a grip.
It's only October. We still have six more months of this shit and it only gets worse.

This is my "for worse" side I guess.
Especially when I already feel like the world is stacked against me and then I call Mark in the middle of one of his meetings and flip out that he didn't feed the dogs.
Like it matters! Like it's even hard and something I can't handle.

Get a grip, you're probably saying.

The knife in my side about all this is Mark starts laughing and questioning how we'll be able to handle the upkeep with kids.
And I just looked at him at a loss.
I don't know.
I haven't the slightest idea.
I feel like we're already at our breaking point, and handling more just seems unfathomable.

So you know what? I think I am going to hang in my pj's A LOT this weekend.
Cook some comfort food and zen out.
Be lazy on the couch with the dogs.
Maybe do some yoga....ha...j/k... I may stretch though.
Take things slow.
Avoid getting sick.

Tomorrow is another day.
This gray cloud of emotions can't last forever.
I'm trying to embrace the good, see the beauty in Fall...stop and take a breathe.

I'll get through this rough patch. I always do.
Thanks for reading.

He called the $hit...poop

Dudes.
Have I ever told you how glamorous my life is?
I have a perfect home with a perfect life and a perfect job and the perfect clothes, hair, and makeup, and perfect husband and a big ole' yard for my fabulously well-behaved dogs to run and frolic at their leisure.
My three pets are just the spitting image of perfection. They all get along so well and I don't ever have to keep an eye on them at all!! They are so clean and nice and respectful of our home that most of the time I forget we even have them.
The house always smells divine and there are never any spills because we are all so very careful.
And I never have to lift a finger to clean anything up.
Isn't life just so wonderful and CLEAN? Nothing EVER goes wrong...is that just so perfect?!

No dudes....it's not.
If you believed ANY of that crap I just wrote it's because you probably have never been to my house.
Kids, don't always believe everything written on the internet.

Now, don't get me wrong. My house is far from a pig-sty. But you know why, my dear?
It's because I go on these lovely cleaning tantrums after my pets have managed to funk up the place so terribly that I am beyond embarrassed of having even the pizza guy deliver something to our front door.
I am SURE the smell would knock them over.

I am about to get all kinds of disgusting so if you are eating lunch or have a weak stomach, I beg you, back away now.
You have been warned.

So, you want to get a bulldog?
You see them on TV or the internets and you think, "my gosh, a bulldog would be just so much fun! They are so funny looking and adorable and wrinkly and I just want to smash their wittle face wiff all my kisses!"

And then you get one.

And yes, they are still quirky and goofy and lovable and loyal and fun!! so much fun!!
But dudes, owning a bulldog is no walk in the park.
Oh, and they don't really walk, so that park nonsense is a joke. It'll never happen. 
Bulldogs are fat for a reason. 

Anyways, my younger bulldog named Burn is an English. And my absolute "favorite" part about owning him, outside of his incessant drooling, chewing, scratching at parts of the couch, barking at people playing croquet, and plowing over small children....is his constant anal problems.

Oh yes, my friends....Burn has a bit of a leaky ass.
Let me back up. Those of you that own a dog may notice from time to time that your dog drags his ass on the ground.

Why is he doing that, you ask?

It's because he is trying to express his anal glands on his own.
Sometimes it works.
And sometimes you have a bulldog.

And you can do one of two things:
1) Pay someone $30 a pop to stick their finger up your dogs ass and squeeze those little peas clean...or
2) Ask the vet to show you how to do it and do it yourself

Guess what I chose?
Since I was having to do this roughly 1-2x a month, my dog's ass was becoming a financial burden. Mostly on my drinking habits. So I bit the bullet and started this fun little DIY project. Vets are more than happy to push this back on you, by the way. So keep that little tidbit in your back pocket.

Every month, for three years, Burn and I had a secret in the meeting in the bathroom.
I would apologize, he would think he was getting treats, I would finger his butthole and clean out the junk, he would yelp, I would wince, and it would all be over in a few minutes.
And then there were treats, but for real this time.
And then, magically, it got better. I thought maybe he had grown out of it.
Until that stink came back.
That leaky, foul, skunk smell came back in full force and I swear to Jebus it was as if it was smeared ALL OVER MY DAMN HOUSE.
Because, you know, dogs don't care WHERE they drag their ass, as long as it pleases them.

So Mark and I got to work. I grabbed the lube (yes....THAT lube) and plastic gloves and went to work on the anal probing of my dog's ass.
Delightful.

And the dog jerked and yelped while I tried to do what I had to do.  Poor guy didn't even drop the soap!! What a monster I am!
And then it was over.

But what about my house?! My plan was to tackle the deep-cleaning this weekend. I could probably hold out that long, right? I mean, the cat had only pissed on the carpet once this month and there was only a thin layer of pet hair blanketing the walk-way.

I came home from the gym this morning and there was one major shit show that broke this camel's back.
Mark looks at me with wide eyes and blurts out....you are so lucky you didn't come into the kitchen this morning....
Diarrhea.....EVERYWHERE.

(And this time it wasn't from Burn....Crash (my other bulldog) ate something bad, I think.)

And it's as if the woft of shit FINALLY hit my nose at that moment and I gagged.
Jesus Betsy Christ!

That's it!! This whole place is a dump!

So I got to work.
(mostly because Mark thought cleaning up SHIT with water and paper towels was the correct way...silly, silly man)

Of course our carpets aren't any normal, low pile carpet, by the way.
Ohhhhhh no.
These carpets are fit for an 80 year old lady with old lady feet that are in need of old lady cushioning and therefore the carpet pile is approximately 6 feet deep.
Try cleaning cat piss and dog shit out of that mess.
It ain't easy.

So I used my trusty 3-layer system and HAND. SCRUBBED. the entire first floor, for 45 minutes.
Yes it made me late for work. But I will not live in filth and that was my absolute limit with the constant smell of garbage.
I then called Mark to proposition him with either a head massage or a BJ if he could vacuum everything....(with the wand too! Get the corners!) after he got home.

I don't really know where I was going with this story, other than our dogs are a terrible pain in my ass and it takes a lot of work to keep them clean and happy.
So don't buy one unless you can deal with some serious crap....pun intended.
But I do love their faces to death....so I suppose I will keep them around for a bit longer.

That was your disgusting PSA for the week.
The end.

Blinders

Sometimes I think it would be nice to have the mentality of a man.

Sometimes.

Like in the case where you are living with a dude and the two of you share household chores.

If I were to pick which animal best describes our cleaning habits, I would choose Mark to be an alligator and me to be a bird. It's like the fool wears blinders around the house.

Mark is like an alligator because gators have a very simple mind set. They see what they need to do and just do that one thing. If Mark is heading up to bed for the night, he will simply grab his phone and walk out of the room and head upstairs. He might even take his pants off before flopping into bed.

Me? Heading up to bed is a whole process. I will get up from the sofa, turn off the lights, take a lap to make sure the doors are locked, pet the dogs, fill up my water glass, make sure my gym clothes are set out for the next morning, move the baby gates, tidy up whatever rooms I walk through and then head into my nighttime face routine. 

Teeth flossed, brushed and rinsed. 

Face washed, dried, cream applied.

Hair brushed out.

A chunk of time is spent staring at my stomach and wondering why I decided to eat cake after dinner. (It's like I WANT to sabotage all that hard work!)

Then I have to plug in my phone, stretch out for a bit, fluff up my bed, take a sip of water with my allergy pill and finally, FINALLY head into bed.

Everything is such a routine!

I get frustrated sometimes...well...jealous, really, that he can just focus on that ONE thing and do that ONE thing. 

He can just go take a pee and walk out.

I will have to wipe down the sink, straighten the towels, and check to see if the garbage needs to be taken out BEFORE I even sit down on the pot.  And once I'm sitting, of course there is Instagram scrolling and fixing the floor mats with my toes.

What the hell is wrong with me?

It's like I think I'm being efficient by tackling all these tiny projects on the way to the original, bigger project.

I think that's why women can't remember shit once they finally get into the room they intended to be in.

That is the "bird" aspect in me. Birds are always hopping along pecking at a bunch of little things in their route.

And then when I feel like all I do is run around cleaning up constantly, and realize Mark isn't doing the same thing, I get pissed off because "he isn't helping as much."

But honestly, it's my fault. I am doing this to myself.

The smudges on the mirror by the front door DON'T have to be wiped this very second (maybe the next second, or I will probably lose it)

I don't necessarily have to straighten up the bills in to a nice pile vs. having them strewn about. (ok, that's a lie, they should be in a nice pile)

Ugh...who am I kidding. It's ingrained in my DNA to tidy. I can't help it.

I ALWAYS survey the scene.

Mark just plows through the scene to get to point B.

I ALWAYS wipe the fingerprints off the white walls.

Mark is probably the one that created them.

I ALWAYS take the extra five minutes to double check a room before guests arrive.

Mark is probably in the garage.

I promise I'm not bashing him. We just have two totally different cleaning habits and sometimes my psychotic need for organization takes over my mental control and I flip out on him for not following suit.

That, by the way, is the crazy part. 

Because while I am detail cleaning, he is doing the larger tasks. Mowing the ENTIRE lawn. Providing all necessary maintenance for all of our cars. Handling our pool filter, pool heater, drinking water, sump pump, etc.

Hell, he even does his own laundry most of the time.

I can't really complain. All I can do is lighten up on the details. 

Those don't really matter when it comes down to memories, right?

Right.

worth the risk

We got the results of Mark's genetic screen back this week just before I was scheduled for my baseline ultrasound.
The nurse called Tuesday and politely told me that we would need to cancel the cycle because Mark is a carrier of a mutation and now I will need to be tested to ensure we are not a match.
My ultrasound was scheduled for Wednesday.
She suggested I come in instead and get the blood work going for my test and we'll pick up next month.
My immediate reaction was to tear up and get sad, so I got off the phone and reviewed his results.

The disorder is called MCAD.
From the NIH:

What is MCAD deficiency?

Medium-chain acyl-CoA dehydrogenase (MCAD) deficiency is a condition that prevents the body from converting certain fats to energy, particularly during periods without food (fasting).

Signs and symptoms of MCAD deficiency typically appear during infancy or early childhood and can include vomiting, lack of energy (lethargy), and low blood sugar (hypoglycemia). In rare cases, symptoms of this disorder first appear during adulthood. People with MCAD deficiency are at risk for serious complications such as seizures, breathing difficulties, liver problems, brain damage, coma, and sudden death.

Problems related to MCAD deficiency can be triggered by periods of fasting or by illnesses such as viral infections. This disorder is sometimes mistaken for Reye syndrome, a severe disorder that may develop in children while they appear to be recovering from viral infections such as chicken pox or flu. Most cases of Reye syndrome are associated with the use of aspirin during these viral infections.

How common is MCAD deficiency?

In the United States, the estimated incidence of MCAD deficiency is 1 in 17,000 people. The condition is more common among individuals of northern European ancestry.

As he is a carrier, it doesn't mean he has the mutation. It's a recessive trait that could potentially be passed down to a child if I were to be a carrier as well.

Weekend in Photos

We didn't make it to Harbor Days (which I will eternally feel guilty about) because I managed to get so drunk, just Mark and I, in the pool on Saturday that I couldn't manage to dress myself or think straight.
Fighting ensued and the rest is history. I felt terrible that we didn't go. Mark was looking forward to it for a long time.

Sunday was a lot better.
We made amends (I temporarily sobered up), cleaned the house and prepped for another impromptu pool party.

Enjoy!

Vulnerable

I flipped out on Mark last night.
I didn't really know why it came to that, but it did, and it's over now.
I had some random dude pass me and say "you are beautiful" to which I responded "thanks, so does my husband" and proceeded to walk home.
My husband didn't say those things. Instead, he said Hi and plopped right back down on the couch to watch TV, saying "work was tough."
The dog is dragging his ass RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM and he "doesn't notice."
So I grab the dog so I can clean out his tail, and proceed to brush is teeth and ears and face folds as well.
Because.....that's what I do. I jump the other dog and do the same.
I walk upstairs to the second bathroom and out of the corner of my eye notice the two yellow stains on the carpet that didn't fully clean up after I tackled them....twice.

Throw Back Thursday

Hashtag Throwbackthursday
Wait....that's not how you do it?
Now I see why I'm not twittering my twat on Twitter.

Anyways, I normally don't post on Thursday, but I just happen to be scanning and uploading and editing a slide show for my mom's birthday so I figured I would give you a photo dump of me as a kid.

And now you will all know why I am insane and have a love for neon.

You're welcome. Enjoy!

The Commuter's Uniform- Rain Edition

Many of you know that I hoof it on foot to work every day.
My "dream" when we moved was to be able to walk to and from the train each day because my road rage is out of control and I just know one day I am going to mow over a minivan with those stupid fucking stick figure families on the back.

I already have to walk 15 minutes from the train to the office, so what's another five to get from my doorstep to the train? It's all about priorities.

Anyways, I have been fine tuning my "uniform" as I like to call it, for approximately 11 years.
That's how long I have been traveling via train, whether it was for school or work.

Why Gina Linetti is my soul mate

Like..lady soul mate.
Not, lover soul mate.
Well, what the Hell, maybe that too (sorry Mark)

Can we talk about this sassy bitch for a hot minute? Because I LOVE. HER.
If you fools have no idea who I am talking about then you best check out your On Demand section of Comcast and look for Brooklyn Nine Nine.
And then watch every show, non-stop, until you are caught up.

Lesbihonest, I almost feel like Gina was fashioned after my go-get 'em attitude at the office.

Intense Debate blows

My commenting system sucks.
I installed Intense Debate to allow other readers the chance to link their current post to their comment so that all the interwebs could see.
But what happened is I think I am replying to everyone, but in reality, it only shows up on my blog so everyone thinks I am ignoring them.

Frugal Friday: Motion with the Lotion

Let's talk about lotion.
Pronounced LOHzun in our household, and at work for some reason..

So I buy the Jergens.
I LIVE by the Jergens.

I LOVE the Jergens.

But my Jergens bottles don't love me back like they should.
So I cut them.

Bring it on.....life

So...you know how life only throws you as much as you can handle?
Well, I think that is happening to me and quite frankly, I'm not sure I should just admit defeat or be pissed that apparently this is it.
This is how much we can handle.

I should just deal the hand we have been dealt and that's that.

So here's the deal.

These two don't know how good they have it. A letter to my dogs....

Dear Crash and Burn,

Ever since I got my first real paycheck and considered myself responsible, I always knew there would be dogs in my life regardless of any spouses, friends, or family.

Bulldogs, to be specific.

But I never would have thought my life would be how it is these days with you two.

I wide da Twain

Dudes, I didn't have much motivation for writing anything in particular this morning until a squacking lady bird entered my train car.
Jesus baby of the rings...what is WITH people not understanding that they are in a public area and no one else gives a damn what your drama is!?
No one.
Everyone can hear you.
Especially the poor sap on the other end.

This lends me to discuss some important points of

Proper Train Etiquette 

aka

Don't Be A Jagoff to Everyone Else in the History of Ever. 

This will become an ongoing series so pay attention fools.

Weekend Ridiculous-ness

So this post coincides with Courtney's WWWW link-up (What We Wore Wednesdays).

This is my first get-up from over the weekend.  I needed the "perfect" outfit for semi-cooler weather, a lot of gravel and sand, and to look "classy" but not too ridiculous for a biker bar/boating pit-stop.

Do I have your attention yet?

No?

Perfect.  This is What I Wore.