29 July 2005

So here’s the question of the day (and maybe this will inspire some comments): how do you know it’s the right time to start trying to have children? Notice I do not say “the right time to get pregnant”. I work in the adoption field. I know that when you start trying and when a baby shows up are often two VERY different times. It boggles my mind when women think they can choose the month they want their baby born in…of course, some fertile myrtles can.

My husband and I have been married for almost a year, and I’m constantly haunted (as most women in America are) by the TIME article a few years ago with the depressing nose-dive fertility/age chart. We’re financially stable, healthy, love kids, blah, blah, blah. And then there’s the cons—only time in our life to be carefree, big chunk of disposable income, time away from each other, blah, blah, blah. So I guess my question is, “how do you know when the scales have tipped?” Is it an earth-shattering moment? A quiet peace? Of course, there’s the couples that have oopsies and God answers the question for them. And then, there are the delusional/stupid on pregnancy boards: “my fiancĂ© and I have started trying…does anyone know of a good empire waist wedding dress company?”

And granted, I am surrounded ALL THE TIME by babies and baby-related topics. Tends to color my thinking light pink and baby blue, but I don't consider myself to be baby crazy. So just curious…how did you know?

20 July 2005

So sorry it’s been awhile since I’ve blogged. My sister has even demoted me to a “non-daily blogger” in her links. Hrmph.

I have a good excuse. I was in Florida at a friend’s wedding. It was loverly, and a good time was had by all. It’s been a long time since I had a girls’ week—just laying out, talking about all things wedding-related, and reading trashy magazines filled with celebrity gossip. I was so braced for one of the women there to be “that girl”…the one that throws a wrench in the system and can’t get along with this person or that person, and to my very pleasant surprise, no one emerged in that role.

I felt very fresh in Florida. I have no other way to describe it. I did things that were completely unlike me. I craved (and mostly ate) fresh fruit and salads. I wore cute, strappy sandals and strapless sundresses. I laid out everyday in the bikinis that I was sure would never again be used after I arrived home from my honeymoon. I danced on a bar where it was prohibited. Heck, I danced on a bar, period. I drove down to South Beach with my father-in-law on a whim (long story). In short, for just a few days, I think I was actually fairly cool.

It’s a bizarre new concept for me. I’ve always been the frumpy, dependable one. Of course, on the actual wedding day, that’s who my friend wanted me to be—the bossy, dependable heavy. And I came through with flying colors, if I might say so myself.

But the other 6 days of compliments on my shoes were heavenly.

05 July 2005

the things we do for love...

so guess whose husband, on a whim, decided yesterday that he and his wife needed to purchase rollerblades? the same rollerblading activity that i am HORRIBLE at and dislike to no end...and told him so.

and guess which wife ended up crashing into the grass and dirt (thank goodness not the asphalt or approaching bridge, at least) at the park? oh, me!!

i now have a swollen lip (lower lip, not in the least angelina jolie-esque), tender nose (at least not broken), and very sore hip (looks like really bad rug burn, but at least the bruising isn't too bad...oh, yeah, just in time for my friend's wedding in florida, complete with all her ever-so-tan friends).

am trying to focus on the positive of "i'm glad i have a husband that enjoys doing stuff with me and trying new stuff." HE, of course, picked up rollerblading as if he skated out of the womb. after much discussion yesterday, we figured out which kid we each were at the rolling rink growing up. he was the kid "shooting the duck" under the limbo pole and dreaming of the day when he could be the one wearing the ref shirt and blowing the whistle. i was the kid eating cotton candy at the snack bar and scooting around in the turtle corral.

so which kid were you?

01 July 2005

Hello 3 day weekend! Normally, 3 day weekends hold much joy and relaxation for me. What could be better than fireworks, family and food? (Not necessarily in that order.)

Hmmmm…perhaps not having to spend the entire weekend halfheartedly packing your house up not knowing if/when you’re going to be able to close on the sell of it? Yes, that would do nicely. My husband and I are now living exclusively in two rooms of the house, the kitchen and the bedroom. And the only thing in the kitchen is his office equipment and plastic tableware. Our refrigerator holds provolone cheese and a Kaiser roll, and the freezer has one ice cream bar that I very seriously doubt will be there by the end of the day. Ditto with the 2 swiss cake rolls left in the pantry.

Happy, happy news. My friend Shelli closed with her husband on their new home. My hubby and I went to the furniture store with them to see their new living room set. Very sassy and sophisticated. I can’t wait for fun movie nights and playing board games over there.

Sad, sad news. My request to cut my hours at my job in order to have one day a week off (don’t think I actually mentioned it blogging, but this past week has been filled with tense board and boss discussions over this) has been denied. There was a concession made to change my work schedule to work a couple days out of the house. I agreed to this with the understanding that I would be getting some HELP in my job as soon as possible. Otherwise, it’s just putting a band-aid over a bullethole. Right now, I’m flying solo in the office, and this has resulted in many a night of sobbing into my husband’s shoulder. I felt a bit vindicated as I asked my boss to research how other single-person offices do it, and every single one of them was like, “oh, no! After a year, we weren’t able to do it with a single person any more. We hired a second person.” So at least I know that I’m not crazy or just whiny.