On My Heart

I'm feeling a little sassy this Monday morning, so I'm going to speak frankly about some stuff that has been on my heart recently.

1. Money
Money has always been a sort of taboo subject for me. As someone that has always been very submersed in the corporate world, it's one of those subjects, like politics and religion, that you just don't talk about. And I'm not here to spill what my salary is or anything, because to be honest?

I'm not proud of it, in the way you might think. (no, I'm not turning tricks....)

I mean, yes, I am proud of all the ladder-climbing I did, jumping hurdles like women-oppression and man-splaining along the way. And I guess I landed "on top" and made good use of that four-year degree I got.

But in all honesty, it's not fulfilling. It never has been and it never will be. I don't ever speak about my latest work endeavors with any enthusiasm. When people ask what I do for a living, I respond HR and change the subject. I am living this career-life because it pays me well enough to afford things most people couldn't even dream of. And for that I am grateful.

However, there has got to be a more fulfilling path that doesn't knock me on my ass every Monday.
I'm all for putting in an honest days work, so I'll be exploring different avenues in this new chapter of life. And maybe that path leads to less income.

That is a very scary statement to me. I was always raised to follow the 40 hour work-week, salaried role of every other working professional, but sometimes I just feel like I'm grasping at straws to stay afloat.

Is it just me? Or maybe it's just this time of year?
I don't know. Maybe my crazy meds need to be adjusted.

I have always found comfort knowing that if I just work a little harder, keep my chin up, I'll make more money and in-turn will have greater financial stability and a better lifestyle....but holy crap does that rat race get old sometimes! The burn-out is real and I just can't imagine doing this for another 30 fucking years. Who decided the retirement age again?!

Especially when I constantly just feel like a professional babysitter, or talked down to like I couldn't possibly know what I'm doing because I'm a WOMAN.

Which leads me to....

2. Oprah
Honey, did you see her speech? Bra-fucking-vo. Here it is if you missed it.


It certainly is a great time to be alive, isn't it? Granted, sometimes Oprah gets on my ever-last nerve, with her constantly shouting about BREAD and shit, but THIS....this is inspiring and epic.
It led me to sign up for volunteer efforts at our local Women's March chapter in Chicago, so we'll see how that pans out in the coming months. Maybe that shit will bring some much-needed change in my life.
3. Therapy  So now that I have different (non-IVF insurance) this year, the therapist I was seeing in 2017 is out of network. I was going every other week and I really like her.  But every time I see her I now need to shell out $100.
My inner dialogue is this:
Part of me says keep going. She is doing really great things for me and I know it's good for my soul to talk about issues and work towards new goals since we are not doing fertility treatments anymore. Navigating this weird new world is hard and people like her should make it easier, which she does. Plus, she is helping shape my spiritual side and that can only be a plus.
The other part of me is a cheap-skate and is like....$100 for an hour?! Are you crazy?! How can you pay a couple hundred dollars each month just to have someone tell you you aren't broken?
Sigh....I'm trying to throw this in as a catch-all in the "self-care" bucket, along with my expensive Orangetheory membership. Both are testing my limits in different ways. What's good for the mind and body can only benefit me, right?
This issue brings me back to item #1....money. I have to keep chugging along in the corporate world to afford this type of self care. And so continues the annoying circle of life.
No need trying to find remedies...this is more just my brain purging since I think I only got 2 hours of sleep last night, my husband is finally recovering from his second man-flu, and there is still snow on the ground.
Thanks for reading!! XO

To the Asshat That Questioned How I Bought My Car

I belong to a very small gym in my home town.
My schedule has always been roughly the same, and because of this, I typically see the same small crowd of people in the same small gym.

I don't talk to anyone because I hate most people.
I have never been one of those people that goes to the gym for social hour.
I am there to do what I have always done; try to keep this ass in check so I can keep up with my other love; sipping cocktails.

Par for the course, there is....that guy....at the gym.
You know the one...who feels like he JUST. HAS. to chat with everyone?
He makes small talk with most of the men, and for some reason....tries to with me.

It's worth mentioning that he doesn't bother talking to ANY of the other girls that show up at the same time.....just me.

Now, I'm not trying to act snooty, but I'm 100% sure he wouldn't even glance my way if his wife was around. Based on what I have noticed, he's a dad, mid-to-upper 40's, lives in the same town as me, he's probably a coach from one of his kid's sports teams, and seems like he would talk about grilling and mowing lawns a lot.

I have nothing against the guy.
I just don't feel like interacting with people, especially when I'm huffing and puffing on the treadmill.
I wouldn't even talk much to my own husband while at the gym...so you just know this guy is way lower on the totem pole.

My (second) all-time favorite interaction with him was when he...just happened to notice....that I didn't make it to the gym for a few months over the winter.

You know, because I was on exercise restriction due to pregnancy, and then grieving my miscarriage.

So...OF COURSE....on my first day back at the gym, he makes sure to run up and grab his jacket at the same time I'm walking through the door.

LOOKS LIKE YOU TOOK A BIT OF A VACATION FROM THE GYM OVER THE HOLIDAYS?!

I stare back at him, only able to mutter.....a vacation?!

No, not exactly....and I continue to put my stuff away and ignore him.

WELL...YOU TOOK SOME TIME OFF, AND THAT MUST HAVE BEEN A NICE BREAK.

oooohhhhh buddy.....if you only knew.

I have decided this lovely conversation is over and turn to start my workout.

Now, normally if someone blows you off like that, you would take the hint that maybe they don't want to talk to you.

But NOPE...not this guy.

I have done my best to not make eye contact...because I just know eye contact leads to a quick smile (on his end), which leads to some dumb fucking conversation about, well, nothing, and does nothing but waste my time.

I mean...for the record, this guy has never even bothered to ask my name, or any other initial formalities like you would when you meet someone new.

He always just starts talking like we were in the middle of a conversation already.
I find it odd.

So, a few months ago, I purchased a newer car to drive around in.
Mark and I are....car people.
And have a soft-spot for the Italian variety.
It's our thing.
You'll never see us running around in a Honda Civic.
We like unique looking cars with a bit of an edge.
And speed, for that matter.
Mostly speed.

We make a great team, because I'm cheap as Hell, and Mark does the research to find the best car for the best deal. It's a win-win for both of us.

So, this "new" car is ten years old, but was kept in pristine condition.
I loved the color combo and the mileage, and Mark loves the engine and the mechanics.

And it's now my daily driver.
Which I also happen to drive to the gym in.
Which Asshat has noticed, as is apparent in the next string of events.

So one random Wednesday morning, a couple weeks ago, I'm dying a slow death on the stair-machine, when good ole' Mr. Shitbag literally jumps into my line of sight and just starts talking.

His presence immediately annoys me.

My music is blaring, so I pause the stairs and pull the earbud out of my ear.

uhhhh....excuse me, what were you saying?

He squints his eyes and repeats himself slowly.

...How did YOU manage to buy THAT CAR?!

I actually think lasers darted out of my eyes at that point.
What the fuck did this ass bag just say?

As I, in no-way, have a poker face, I get all pissy and reply...

What the fuck does THAT mean?
I immediately throw my hand up

told him to

then turned around and continued my work-out.

I didn't want to make a scene.
But my heart was racing at that point.
All I'm thinking is....

What....because I'm YOUNGER than him?
BECAUSE I'M A GIRL?

What does he REALLY mean by that statement?
And WHY did he feel it was necessary to say it in the FIRST PLACE?

Is it so hard to believe that a WOMAN might be capable of working, buying, and DRIVING a "man's car"?

Is it so hard to believe that I ACTUALLY might be a GOOD driver and can handle it?
Is it so hard to believe that A MAN didn't GIFT me this car?
That I'm not just borrowing it?
That I'm not showing off?

That maybe, juuuust maybe, I deserve to drive whatever the fuck I want, just like everyone else is?

The way he approached this "conversation" was so ass-backwards, I couldn't wrap my head around it.

Why not start off with, "is that your car out there?" or "I like your car."
ANYTHING that doesn't sound back-handed and undermining.

But no....that's not what happened.
So here I am , confronted with yet another envious douche-bag, that feels it's appropriate to spout his two-cents and give me a piece of his mind.

So to the ass-hat that questioned how I acquired my car?

I bought it. Because I liked it.

And that's all I have to say about that.

Work Ethic

The issue of a populous of people lacking work ethic has been a recent topic of popular debate, ever since another 20-something spouted off about her so-called terrible working conditions during her time at Yelp.

To those who haven't read this article....I'm going to give you a bit of a spoiler: she was fired immediately after posting her open letter to the owner of Yelp.

Personally? I'm glad she was fired. I wouldn't continue to employ anybody ungrateful enough to assume that their first job would be filled with a standard 40 hour work-week and a ton of perks.

It's your first job. Dig in. Make something of yourself. Put in the work. Be proud.

I had not bothered to read the original article, until someone else posted a retaliation article about what it means to have a proper work ethic. It was written by a girl in her late 20's, and was a breath of fresh air to the seeming endless masses of young people who feel that once they finally finish college (because that's the hardest part of adulting, right?), they should rightfully be owed the position of CEO, or something equally lucrative.

Why work your way up when you should just be granted seniority?
But my parents told me I was THE BEST. 
Shouldn't I be placed on my golden throne just as they said?

I will admit, it does make me hot under the collar to think there are people in this world that don't understand it takes hard work, dedication, commitment and follow-through to reap the rewards of a life you think you deserve.

A lot of what I see stems from the notion that we set up these now-adults to enter a world where "YOU CAN HAVE ANYTHING YOU WANT. THE SKY IS THE LIMIT!"

The issue with these types of statements is they are only half true.

Let me elaborate:

YOU CAN HAVE ANYTHING YOU WANT...if you take the time to work for it.

THE SKY IS THE LIMIT...if you are willing to make the sacrifices and put in the long hours to reap the rewards that you desire.

THE WORLD IS YOUR OYSTER if you take a stand, mold yourself into something greater, and do your part.

YOU CAN BE ANYTHING YOU WANT...if you apply yourself.
Learn from those before you.
Understand your surroundings.
Fail.
Get back up and do it better.

I would like to think I have established a good work ethic, and was lucky enough to marry into a family of like-minded do-ers.

Every day of our lives, Mark and I get up well before sunrise to accomplish the tasks that no one else is going to do for us.
We go against the "norm" of society and hit the hay early to make sure we have the energy to take on the next day.

Partying and staying up all hours of the night watching TV and snacking and generally not accomplishing anything has no room in our life.

We WANT to get ahead.
We WANT to better our lives.
I WANT to be in good shape, therefore I workout most days and choose to take the time to eat correctly and meal prep as needed.
Mark WANTS to run a successful company, so he makes the calls and plans his days at hours that may be deemed unfit to some.
We WANTED to buy a bigger home, on a larger lot, with some privacy, and we WANT it to be upgraded to our liking.
We WANT a child, therefore, will go through Hell or high-water this year to make it happen.
We WANT to retire at a decent age, and plan to do so by putting in the hours NOW to ensure our success.

And sometimes we fail.
But instead of pitching a fit, we figure out how to fix it and make it better the next time.

Throughout my childhood, I was told to not give up when the going gets hard, and if I want to be good at something, I have to practice.

For my third Christmas, my parents gifted me a keyboard and a music book.

I'm not sure they had any intention of me actually putting it to use, I mean, my fingers couldn't even reach an octave at that point. I was THREE.

But within a couple of hours, I had figured out how to read the elementary music and was playing Up On The Housetop without skipping a beat.

My parents, over-joyed, threw me into piano lessons faster than you could blink an eye.

I was a natural, but as I progressed in my lessons, I never really gave it much thought to practice unless I really, really needed to.

That was, until I entered my first contest.
I was up against some serious competitors (at age 5!) that ended up embarrassing me to no end because their talent was paramount.

And I cried because IT WASN'T FAIR!

And my dad looked me square in the eye, and said, if I wanted to be great, I had to work harder than everyone else.

So I put in the effort.
I practiced until my itty bitty fingers had callouses, then kept going.

I would memorize one song, then move onto the next, honing my skills along the way.
And each and every competition moving forward, I crushed, because I wanted to be the best.

Hard work pays off.

From that point forward, it set the tone for every task, every to-do list, every accomplishment I have ever made.

Nothing is worth doing if it's not worth your full effort.

You respect nothing and have no gratitude for those things you have been handed in life.

That doesn't mean life has to beat you down relentlessly for eternity.

If you're stuck doing something you hate, and have given it all you've got, exhausted all your resources, then make the choice to change, but do it wisely.

Be smart about changes and upgrades, learn from those older than you, survey your surroundings and make sound decisions.

My goal with work has always been the most money for the least amount of work.

But that doesn't mean I am lazy, nor does it mean I expected that straight out of college.

I put in more hours at more shitty jobs than I care to re-hash.

Each and every shitty job has managed to teach me something very important as I moved into the next position, and climbed the ladder to where I am today.

And guess what? I'm still climbing that damn ladder.
Still improving myself and my life.

A person needs life experience to get ahead.

They need the setbacks and failures as much as they need the accomplishments and triumphs.
Because it's those setbacks that make you grateful for things you can do or buy or become later in life.

The moral of the story is.....you CAN have anything you want in life, as long as you work for it.
Luck has a bit to do with it sometimes, but for each goal achieved, luck is a mere 5-10% of it.
Hard work is the other 90%.

And no, you don't have much life experience out of college.
That's what your 20's are for.
So eat some humble pie, wise up, and join the rest of the hard workers at the top....it's where you wanted to be anyways, remember?

Thanks for reading.

Not What I Expected

This last week put me over the edge.

I have been waiting....patiently waiting.....waiting so damn long for this whole process to start that I worked myself into a tizzy by the end of last week when we finally pulled the trigger.

Every time I feel like this is it, we are finally moving forward....whether it's a new doctor, more answers, insurance lining up, a new job....every time we seem to make one small stride forward, I feel like we are hit with another thing to push that start date back a bit.

Don't get me wrong, it's what we want and what we need for peace of mind.
We need genetic testing.
We need all the set-up that goes along with it.
And even though I know this...I have been so antsy to JUST. GET. GOING.

2015 was so much fun.
I didn't have a care in the world.
Even through a lay-off and job change, life was good.

Life is still good.

But I feel like I just want to get to the end without experiencing the whole journey.
I am getting stressed out that my original plans keep going out the window.

I said it before, I'm Type A.
I want to know our timeline and mark it in my calendar and follow it to a T.
I want to speculate and jot down milestones when I think they are coming.

I cannot stand having to scribble out what I thought was going to be a milestone, and instead is more of another long lag of downtime waiting for the next set-up to be complete.

I was so frustrated with trying to do everything I possibly could to expedite our parents test kits.
I finally got everything delivered Friday.
They were supposed to test and send everything back.

And, of course, there was a little snafu....but man, did it set me off.

All my careful planning, all my details, all my begging, all my research...out the door in a matter of seconds.

And for what?

So we have another couple of days added to our timeline....what does it matter?

But it DID matter to me.
So much so that I launched into a feverish tirade against anyone that even dare tell me to calm down.
NO ONE IS AS INVESTED IN THIS AS ME!!

Long story short...I realized what an ass I made of myself.

No, I had not planned on waiting to start IVF for 11 weeks.
No, I had not planned to be jabbing myself with needles all summer long.
No, I had not expected genetic set-up to take this long.
Not in the slightest.

PGD took my ill-timed plans and not only threw them out the window...but rocket launched them into outer space...never to bee seen again.

Plans....what a crap shoot.

So with this first hiccup, I vowed to stop worrying about the details.
I imagine there will be more to come.

How could there not?
There is coordination between two genetics lab, an IVF facility, and our specialists facility.
That's like at least five sets of hands with who knows how many admins behind the scenes.
And the shipping and receiving and procurement and documentation.

This whole year is not going how I had expected it to.

But I can do one of two things:
1) Totally freak out for the next eight months....ultimately setting myself up for failure
or
2) Try....with what little will-power I have...to just go with the flow.

I just get so fucking angry sometimes that this is the hand we were dealt.
I can't believe we will spending 9-ish months setting up to get pregnant, then (hopefully) finding success, then another 9-ish months finally being pregnant.

It's like being pregnant for 18 fucking months!!
Could you imagine?

If this isn't a test for how much we want this, I don't know what is.

As of today, the lab has received my parents saliva tests, and Mark's parents will arrive tomorrow.
We should know those results in about two weeks.

And my dad?
He gets his biopsy results Thursday.
I am nervously waiting those results as much as I am sure he is.

What a weird fucking year this will be.
Thanks for reading, loves.

OCD: Party of One

Good morning my loves.
Yay for Friday!
I'm looking forward to another soak with some of my new spa products.
Lush has me hooked and I don't ever want to let go, Jack.

Can I tell you that my original intention with this post was to ramble on about my plans and such to keep myself in fighting shape as we gear up for whatever the next few months hold?

And it probably will at some point, but you see, I am in the middle of the pre-period, high progesterone, phase of my month.
Girls, you know what I'm talking about: I have no patience, a cleaning issue that is beyond my control, a need to make all the labels face out, and a temper like a hyena.

Yea....it's on like donkey kong.

I found myself SCREAMING at no one in particular as I sped home last night.
Everyone was driving like an idiot, except me, obviously.

I got home and knew I could just lose it at any moment with Mark, who was busy heating up gumbo his parents graciously gave us for dinner last night.
And in an effort to combat the crazy, I hopped on the treadmill and ran as hard and as fast as I could for about ten minutes. Then I washed up, removed my make-up, and grabbed a beer.

At that point, I was even willing to put up with the child-like shenanigans my husband kept throwing in my face.

And I didn't even have any day-dreams about smothering him with a pillow that night!
I'd call that a win-win!

Anyways, with this time of my month, before I drop into crampy-stomach-zombie-mode, I can't help but wonder exactly how bad my crazy and anxious mood is going to get once we reach the, "daily progesterone injection in my ass with a 2 inch needle for 12 straight weeks" phase of getting pregnant.

Like, I KNOW Mark has his concerns. He vocalizes them all the time.
"You are going to be crazy and have crazy demands all the time and I'm just going to have to sit here and take it."
And of course I say, "Oh no honey, that would never happen, I know how to keep myself in check."

But in the back of my mind, he knows that's total bullshit.
I KNOW IT'S TOTAL BULLSHIT.

Progesterone does crazy things to me. I am a force to be reckoned with. I come in hot and demand answers and cleanliness and MOVE MOVE MOVE...I want to see KNEES TO CHEST, HONEY...KNEES TO CHEST!

But in like four days, that's all over with.
But those shots...and pregnancy itself?
Look out.

I'm going to try, but I make zero promises that I will ever, at any point, be able to check my self before I riggidy-wreck myself.

So anyways, enough about progesterone. That is so far off this year it's almost laughable at this point.

Before I go any further, I must say a huge THANK YOU! Your comments on this blog and IG and Facebook have all been so uplifting. I feel like this tribe of people, both online and in real life...is epic. I feel good with sharing my story, whether it helps someone else going through infertility, genetic issues, TTC, or just looking for laugh...I'm your girl.

After my last post published, I got a call to schedule my intake phone screen with the genetics lab.
Unfortunately, they can't get me in until January 29th, so really nothing starts with my genetic set-up until after that point.
From the decent amount of Googling I have conducted in the last 24 hours....MCAD is considered a more common genetic mutation, although incredibly lethal to those that develop it (isn't that scary?!).

Because it's more common, it means it will take less time to set-up my probe than a more rare mutation.
I'm anticipating something around four weeks.

Which would mean, fingers crossed, that if it is just four weeks, I could potentially start my birth controlled prep cycle March 1.

See how long all this is to prepare?!

I don't know what I was expecting. I half-heartedly expected to have a completed retrieval cycle at that point, but as we all know...beggars can't be choosers.

Whatever. It'll all be fine.
And that gives me a couple more months to kill it at the gym and drink some boozy booze.

Thank you for reading! Live long and prosper and all that jazz.

It's time for a change

Never mind that semi-crooked front tooth. I clearly need to start wearing my fucking retainer again.
Cool.

Moving on.
Let's talk hair first, because hair is fun. Then I'm going to get to bitchin' about Facebook.
But first, hair.

My hair grows, I think, 2cm a year. Even after taking prenatals and multi-vitamins and eating super healthy and not washing it every day and all that jazz...it still grows at a snails pace.

Let's back up a bit.
A long time ago, I wanted to grow my hair out for my wedding, knowing I would be doing some sort of up-do.  I grew it, did my own up-do...and it was fabulous.

And then I was just over it, and hacked a lot of it off within the coming months.

(And then my wedding photographer asked me to do a boudoir shoot, so of course I said yes! 
It was free!)

My hair was super cute. Shorter, stacked, angular...all things I like. :)
But as the story goes, I grew tired of the constant up keep that is hair shorter than your chin, so decided to grow it out again.
And that is what I have been doing for four years.

So now? It's the longest it's been as far back as I can remember.
But I don't think I'm cut out for this length.
Sure, I had visions of this long, wavy, ethereal hair that flowed and was gorgeous and beautiful.

But the reality is, I don't have thick hair.
I have to tease and fill my hair with volumizing products to get it to stay where it needs to be....and that would be the second floor of any building I'm in.

Higher the hair, closer to Jesus, right?

I'm headed into the salon in about a week, and I'm thinking I can find peace with a Lob.
Long bob, for those not in the know.
Still angled....still stacked...but longer.
So I can still pull it up in a pony to work out.
And curl it and wave it and all that.

But no bangs. Never again...amen.
I have never been so ragey as I was with bangs in the summertime.
A fuzzy tumbleweed, half shellacked to your forehead does not flatter anyone.


I'm thinking something more like this....

But like...more Southern....meaning, more volume and height, obviously.
I may be a rather basic white girl...but my hair never has been.

What do you think?
I think it'll be cute and manageable, and if I hate it...there is less to grow out!

Now onto my other topic: Facebook.

Dudes....I'm seriously getting over it.
Although I still use it as another social media outlet for the blog, keeping up with friends is hit or miss.
I just want to see timehop photos and babies and funny quizzes and shit like that.

I don't want to see your newest political rant, or every fucking thought that pops into your head throughout the day.
It's getting out of control.
And what the hell is with people sharing links of dead people and abused animals?
I can't even handle the fact that videos will start playing the second your feed scrolls to it.
Especially if it's sad.
My heart can't handle Facebook sometimes. It seems to bring out the evil in people.
And why are people ranting and arguing with EACH OTHER about whatever topic of the day has their panties in a bunch?

Why aren't they sending letters and phone calls and emails to the people making those decisions?

I have been un-following and unfriending people left and right and all I really wanted to do is check in to make sure my extended family is okay and my friends look happy.

I'll just go back to my bubble for a bit and get the hell off of Facebook, I think.

It makes me unnecessarily furious from time to time and it's completely unnecessary.
I know the world sucks sometimes.
There is violence and death and destruction around every corner.
Hello! I live in Chicago....I know all about it.

Is it wrong to want to have rose colored blinders on all of this?
It's not really in my bones to start internet arguments or troll people or share shitty videos of puppies dying.
I'm not looking to change the world....and maybe that isn't noble of me...but dudes...I'm just not.

I just want to live an honest life I am proud of.
I will stand up for myself and my family and my life without blinking.
I donate to animal shelters on the regular.
I am polite to all races of people.
I get off my ass and put in the effort to make a difference with my health, my marriage, my future family, my stress, my home and my career.
I am pro-guns, and pro-dowhateverthehellyouneedtodotoraiseachild, and pro-affordablehealthcare, and pro-makingyourownfuckingchoices, pro-haveareligionbutdontpushitonpeople, and pro-dontbeadick...but I sure as hell won't be shoving it down your throat.

Although you should be polite to people...ALL people. We are all going through some shit.
And don't be a dick. Just don't. I think that Karma thing swings pretty hard.

Other than that? Do you boo.
As for me? I'm saying sayonara to Facebook for a bit until some of this chaos dies down....I'll text you to catch up, mkay?

That's my PSA for the day.
Fabulous hair and Facebook. The end.
Happy Friday!

Life's not that bad

Dudes.
What is UP with all the negativity I am seeing in and around social media and in real life?
So many negative Nancy's. Complaining about a whole bunch of nothing.
I mean, I get it. Shit happens. People have bad days. It's needed in your soul to vent here and there, but all the time? Really?
What is the deal with feeling the need to drag others in on your pity parade?
Can't just you just squash that shit and move on?

Misery loves company. But I won't partake. It's so damn time consuming and annoying to hear people bitch and moan about petty first world problems that mean nothing.
And why do people think that it's acceptable to use social media as a platform for this type of negativity? Like, they wouldn't say it in "real life" but they will say it in broken English on Facebook?
Dudes....no one cares if you are "so stressed out" or "it's too hot" or "it's too cold"....why even bother posting that crap?

There are very few people in this world that I make time to hear their troubles.
They are limited to the inner-sanctum of my friends and family. And even then, it's limited.

It hurts my heart too much to read about yet ANOTHER sad puppy mill story that someone just HAD to share on Facebook. Like....WHY are you sharing THAT? Can't you just post a photo of your baby or something fun? Why do I want to read that?
It gives me anxiety to hear about ALL OF YOUR MEDICAL PROBLEMS that I am chalking up to some kind of neurotic hypochondria syndrome. Oh...you have a cough? So does everyone else at one point or another. Oh....you are having a bit of insomnia? Why don't you try NOT partying all night every night and actually try sleeping during the night and being productive during the day?
And I just LOVE hearing about how you are so UBER focused on your weight loss that with every fucking gain or chip or burrito you shoveled into you mouth caused you to be sad and angry, and then you took it out on your family. Cool....man. That makes total sense.

And please go on about HOW YOUR HOUSE IS ALWAYS A MESS. How about stop being lazy?

You know this all just thrills me.

Can we just get real for a hot minute?
Life is hard. Very hard. Adulting is hard. I know that. As a soon-to-be 32 year old, I have dealt with and witnessed and burdened hardships I do not wish on my enemies.
I have witnessed death via natural causes and massive drug problems.
I have seem people beat up and arrested.
I have had financial problems, infertility problems, marriage problems, friend problems, family problems, work problems, you know name it...I've been through it.

But here's the kicker.....WE ALL HAVE.

In some form or another, we have all had to deal with some pretty shitty stuff.
Your shit isn't shittier than mine and vise versa. We all have troubles. We all have sorrows. We all have setbacks.

So quit complaining.
Because life is pretty fucking awesome if you would just stop sulking in the corner.
Everything worth having in your life is worth the uphill battle it takes to get there.

So you want your marriage to work? Take a look at your own habits. Chances are there is a problem with YOU too....it's not always him. Or maybe just take a fucking chill pill. Men don't act the same way as women....so quit trying to change them. You knew what you were getting into when you married the person...they don't become a different person after you tie the knot.

You want to be fit? Stop cramming junk in your pie hole, eat food that was grown in the ground, lift some weights and do some cardio.
Every. Damn. Day.
In the time you spent complaining about "how life is so unfair" you could have been outside playing with your kids or doing some jumping jacks or hitting the gym or WHATEVER IT TAKES to be active. You can't just hit the gym once a week at 50%...spending most of your time taking selfies and barely working up a sweat...then treat yourself to a huge frozen margarita or 10 and grab Taco Bell on your way home all the fucking time and wonder why the scale doesn't budge or the muscles don't show
(side note: ditch the scale too....it's the devil and not worthy of your time. Try on some pants. If they are too tight, then keep at it. Too loose? Buy some new ones, honey)

And if you don't want to actually work out and stay active and generally eat healthy?
Then be fat.
Jesus....just own that shit already. There is a whole movement where society is coming to accept larger people. Just hop on that damn train and be done with it.

You want to be less stressed? Eliminate the nonsense. Ditch the clutter. That includes your work, family, friends, and your home. If your work is too much and you feel that you aren't making what you should for the bullshit you put up with? Then make a fucking change. Dust off that damn resume and make yourself heard!

Family drama seeping into your life. Cut them off.
They are like leeches because it's family and you feel you have to. But if it's toxic....step away.
Even if it's temporary.

Do you have shitty friends that make you feel worthless? They are not your friends. Say Bye, Felicia, and dump them on the fucking curb. You don't need a gaggle of friends anyways. You need people that will only lift you up in your life. Everyone else is just jealous.

Oh, and if you house could be on hoarders....that's a no brainer. Throw. The shit. Away. Already.

Life is pretty fucking awesome if you just look around more often. And it goes pretty fucking quick, too.

That dimply ass you are so worried about now will be saggy and pale and non-existent in 20 years, so you better start making it shake a bit more often instead of being worried about who will notice you in your one-piece on the beach. That answer is everyone. But no one gives a shit. And if they do?
You tell them to go fuck themselves.

So what do I do? I got 99 problems, but your shit ain't one.
I choose to brush off a lot of the bullshit and be happy.
Because honey, it could be A LOT worse.
Life ain't so bad, really. It's all about your perspective.

Thanks for reading the rant. Now go do something productive and quit complaining so much.

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.

don't apologize

There is a work-related mantra that I try to strive for both in my professional and personal life.

That mantra is, "don't apologize."

Let me explain.

See, I am not saying don't ever apologize when you clearly do something wrong or hurt someone. Because you should absolutely apologize, and actually mean it. Nothing pisses me off more than a half-hearted apology. As stubborn as I am, when I know I'm wrong....I know I need to apologize. And most of the time, in the heat of the moment, even if you do apologize, it sounds like horse shit.
It is always better to walk away and cool off and realize how shitty you were, then go back with THAT feeling to apologize. But getting back to the original mantra...

This is Halloween 2014

Dudes.
I'm off today (hooray!).
But it's not because I am adding the finishing touches to a costume so epic it will surely take 1st place in some contest.
And it's not because I will have droves of tiny trick-or-treaters at my front door.
And it's definitely not because I have Halloween movies to watch, or festive treats to make, or spooky cocktails to drink.
No, I am taking a day off to get a head start on the chaos at our home.

I don't know why we do this to ourselves.

Shake it off

Happy Monday loves.
Thank you again for all the love and support with the link-up Friday. I found some amazing new blogs and I hope everyone felt awesome for sharing.  We will get another opportunity to Promote Love in 2 weeks!
This weekend was filled with Halloween decorating, a good fall temp run, pizza with my main man, and of course- a crockpot meal.

So I must tell you, Saturday morning didn't go quite like I hoped, but the end result was much better. I had just downloaded a few songs (including, I confess, that damn Taylor Swift song, Shake it Off. I can't tell you how much it came in handy only moments later), and was setting out for my first cooler temp run this month.
I listen to the music from my phone and noticed I had a little email icon. So I checked it.
And almost pooped my pants.

Wouldn't you know I had a rather shitty comment from none other than an Anonymous asshole.

Chores

Man...you guys sure do love reading about sex stuff, huh? You little devils, you.
So let's talk about more sexy stuff....CHORES!!

For those of you that are living with someone in a space that requires upkeep: ie - a single family home, townhouse, condo, apartment...basically anybody that lives somewhere other than their parent's basement - tell me, how do you divvy up the chores?

When you shacked up with your roommate, lover, husband, wife, whoever....did you sit down and talk about who does what or did it all just kind of fall into place?

this isn't my house, btw. They should just burn this place down and start over.

Restructuring

The norm these days is that blog-land is a bit of a ghost town.
Some people have been freaking out a bit....but honestly, I think it's great.
It means that people aren't relying on technology to have a good time. They are outside and actually talking to other people to entertainment vs. worrying about how many followers/likes/comments they are getting on their blog.

Tia Land

Here's what's going on in my neck of the woods this week and the upcoming week
(if you don't want to know, just make sure you enter the GIVEAWAY and have a good weekend!)

Combat Against Office Ebola

Dudes. I'm in deep. In the trenches.
It's time to fight back because this 'ish is getting old.
Time for....

I can't do it all

As funny and as witty as some people think I am in my daily life, it's not something I can keep pace with 7 days a week.
I have lots of expendable energy.
I liven a room, create funny conversation, lighten a mood, lift people up.
I get up early, do all the things, each and every day.
I go.
I don't find excuses. I find answers. I solve problems. I make shit happen.
I strive to excel at everything, even when the days blend together and it seems like it is all too much, I keep going.
But finding balance is key.
And as a 30 year old adult, you would think by now I would know this by now.

Updates: Boot Camp & life in general

He's home.

The training facility allowed us to pick him up last night, but not before a training session for the parents.
I went alone while Bayou dealt with a major drainage problem in our main shower.
More on that in a bit.

Boot Camp.
Man....I don't know what I had expected the outcome to be.
I guess part of me figured that to submerge a dog into a facility with five trainers and nothing but rehabilitation and obedience guidance, not to mention a boat load of money, he would have learned a few things.
You know......like to be less psycho.

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.

Operation Chill the F Out

I made the call.
I called my obgyn and admitted to the receptionist that I need help.
It was a very depressing and humbling phone call to make, seeing as I have always been one to take the stubborn route and do things on my own.

I am trying to make the best of the situation but it's difficult.
It's scary to think how much worse it could really be and to what length I would go to to have a perfect little baby of my own.

F*%K all the things

Fuck you.
Fuck me.
Fuck all the things.