Monthly Archives: August 2011

My Weekend, in Bullet Points

To sum up:

  • Packing up the car for a couple nights at Beaver Lake with my siblings and sister’s friend
  • Making a pit-stop at Tontitown winery to listen to music with R’s friends
  • Within 2 minutes of meeting, asking one of the girls in the group if she’d take photos of my homebirth. (I couldn’t help it, she made the fatal mistake of showing me photos of her work: Aus10)
  • Accepting her polite refusal
  • Spending the next 20 minutes assuring her I’m not a weirdo.
  • When trying to make a great first impression, telling the group that because of my feminist/ women’s studies days in college, R doesn’t think a boy would survive in my womb. Therefore, he’s almost positive we’re having a girl.
  • Spending the next 20 minutes assuring everyone I’m not a weirdo nor a man-hater.
  • When introduced to the singer, who happens to be R’s boss’ brother, squealing like a groupie.
  • Spending the next 20 minutes assuring everyone I’m not a weirdo, man-hater, nor a groupie.
  • Leaving the winery and heading to Beaver Lake, singing Weezer songs at the top of our lungs.

  • Seeing our sweet cabin in the woods.
  • Thanking my brother and sister-in-law for saving the beds for us, instead of asking us to sleep on the couch.
  • Sharing the baby drama that no longer is, PTL!
  • Only getting up once in the middle of the night to use the restroom.
  • Stumbling over everything in my path on the way to said restroom, and waking up everyone  in the living room.
  • Hanging out in the lake on baby inner tubes because that was the only pool item available at Walmart. Wait. I take that back, we did find a small swimming pool that we debated on buying. We were pretty sure a hole in the middle of it would be perfect for this belly.
  • Getting a red forehead.
  • Laughing.
  • Talking.
  • Listening.
  • Grazing on all the food in the kitchen.
  • Getting described as “petite” by my sister, and realizing that it has taken me being almost 9 mos pregnant before anyone on the face of this planet has ever called me petite.
  • Playing spoons and getting out in the first round every time.
  • Dancing and singing to “I want you to want me”
  • Getting out of breath within 3 seconds of dancing.
  • Putting head between my legs so as not to faint.
  • Repeating this sequence for the duration of the song.
  • Crashing at 11:30 with sunburnt bodies and more wrinkles.
  • Using the bathroom only once again during the night.
  • Waking up the house again due to stumbles.
  • Early morning & quiet ride to church.
  • Talking pregnancy with the 3 billion other girls my age that are also due within the year. Do not drink the water, N & A.
  • Taking a two hour nap in between movies once we got home.
  • Not even looking at the laundry hamper until today.
  • Just looked at it, and deciding to forget about it.

All in all, a good time.

Bluegrass, Carnivores, and Cankles

R and I had a great day on Friday. He took the day off, which quite honestly surprised me, to hang out together. I was always so protective of my vacation time, only wanting to use it for something special. So for him to use it as an excuse to run around with little ole me? I was flattered.

And we had fun too.

Just as much as bowling with my nephew and nieces the weekend prior.

It had stormed all week, including the day they arrived, so we popped into the local bowling alley.

They were really impressed.

The alley is quite fancy as you can see. I told them I took them there so they didn’t feel so uncomfortable after hanging out at the luxurious Shack. You need to bring yourself down to your guests’ comfort level, you know. And the Shack really just sets the bar way too high.

Before I knew it they were off to my brother’s house the following day. It was a whirlwind of movies, pizza, guitar playing, chalkboard drawing, and There Was An Old Lady That Swallowed a Fly singing.

L later asked if they wore us out.

That’s not a loaded question or anything… But yes, I was exhausted (I sat my big bum on the couch the whole time – how could I be so tired?) and thankful there was a only a singleton in my belly and not triplets.

So R took Friday off…and we had to start the day off right.

I had leftover buttermilk that needed to be used soon, so made some pannycakes. Easy since I’d already mixed together a big batch of wheat pancake mix a while ago and stored it. Now I just have to add an egg and milk for a batch. This, with leftover ham and scrambled eggs. Happiness.

Right now, I am literally eating as if I were in high school again: Non-freaking-stop, without the metabolism. Or the sports. It’s to the point that I imagine peeing as my workout regime and get very excited when it’s been a particular busy day in the bathroom.

So I polished off my plate along with whatever R didn’t eat and headed out. We first had to stop and pick up a craigslist purchase which R is so proud of, and which I will write about later.

After that pit stop, onwards to Eureka Springs.

They were having a Bluegrass festival! And the best part? It was free.

I packed our lunch in a cooler which R lugged for a mile until we found a seat. The park is right in the middle of downtown, and is not so much a park as it is a paved square with lots of benches.

We found one in the shade facing away from the stage, looking onto the street. This was fine, because is there anything better than people watching? Or people falling? One person tripped on their way up to give the band a tip and I could not stop laughing. Later I felt bad, but not after I got a good gut laugh out of it.

Sorry, can’t help it. It’s a knee-jerk reaction. Ask my mom, she’s taken the brunt of it before. And, yes, I laugh when I do it too. Settle.

R dug around the cooler to see what was for lunch. Then dug around some more. And then dug around some more.

“Uhm, where’s the meat?”

“Oh, it’s tomato & spinach pasta with a side salad of tomato, mozzarella, & basil. Great for a hot summery day, yeah?”

“I guess so.”

Folks, I’m married to a carnivore. Meat has to be somewhere on the plate otherwise the meal is incomplete. (Side note: I have made a great black & pinto bean burger that has gotten two thumbs up. Hurray!) But to be honest, for the most part I’m the same way. Especially since reliving my teenage youth, I can’t get enough of meat.

So we ate what we had, all the while R’s stomach grumbling for more protein.

I tried to divert his attention by looking at our surroundings. Eureka Springs has a great downtown, with winding roads and old store fronts.

We enjoyed watching the myriad of people walking by as well as those driving.

And then I noticed that everyone in a car would pause in front of me and Ryan to look up at us. Our bench was set higher up than the street, on a wall, allowing me to look down my nose at everyone figuratively and literally. It was perfect.

Or so I thought.

Until I realized that the very comfortable position of putting my feet on top of the cooler allowed every passerby full viewing up my skirt.

If they’re gonna be all up in my business, at least bring along a razor. You know my fear from last week’s post.

I scrambled to cover myself up and frantically looked for an excuse to get up.  The bathroom in the hotel next door was starting to look might fine.

And that’s when I found it.

The stairway to heaven. No, not this stairway.

The stairway that led to this view. Complete, I might add, with misters.

I quickly plopped our things down and grabbed some seats while R bought us drinkie-poos. It’s always so lovely drinking my O’Douls in front of everyone’s glaring stares. Oh settle down, people, it’s non-alcoholic.

[Side note: For all my pregnant mama friends, the best non-alcoholic beer I’ve had to date is… wait for it… Busch Light. Can you believe that? I felt like I was in college again! After I had gained the freshman 15 of course.]

This was the best part of our day. We relaxed and talked and got misted upon. I could have sat there for hours, but R’s stomach was grumbling louder than ever. And there’s only one cure for that.

Ribs, baby.

I sat back as R attacked his plate. It was straight up Jurassic Park and I was (finally) the slim-necked herbivore with my plate of greens watching T-Rex go to town.

In less than 5 minutes dinner was eaten, and we were headed back home.

I rested what used to be my ankles on the dashboard the whole way back.

Great, great day. We were asleep by 8pm.

Nothing better.

Nesting

According to my dad, if I start to show signs of nesting then I’m about to go into labor in 10 minutes and to please call them. He was pretty emphatic about it too, you know.. from his birthing experiences.

So if this is it, then you better come on down ya’all. And don’t forget your side dishes. We’ll need them for the BBQ.

R is excited. I, on the other hand, am getting worried. About important things too.

Like seriously, what if I forget to shave my legs/bikini area before going into labor. That one’s high on my list. So high, in fact, that I brought up the subject out of nowhere when over at a couple’s house for dinner. Right in between bites of cake. A charged silence ensued and utensils clattered onto plates around the neighborhood. I think I even heard a faint scream of horror a couple streets up. It was awkward, but I pushed forward. People have got to know. Forget about the baby’s or my health, if at any point I realize that I forgot to shave, someone had betTER GET A FRICKIN’ RAZOR, please, CAUSE I’M GOIN’ DOWN.

Hopefully I’ll stick in the ‘please.’

That’s another important worry, (but obviously not as crucial as being well groomed): How nice am I going to stay throughout it all? Last night, R sat with his arm butted against mine during our bible class. A voice came out of me that sounded straight from The Exorcist,  “Your arm hairs are irritating me. Back. [pause] Off.” He looked into my eyes, widened his own, and quickly scooted halfway down the pew to get away.

I mean, really?

Poor R. I think the relaxation techniques we’re practicing are more for him than me. Who knows what force of nature will emenate from the depths of my being while in labor.

But man, will my legs look GREAT or what!

Another worry I had was baby clothes. My sister has been hoarding all of their clothes for when one of us finally got pregnant. Let’s just say, they’ve been down in the basement for a long time. So when she and her three kids visited last weekend, I begged her to bring some along.

It was immediately opened, and I pulled out a newborn outfit. Then promptly fainted. So I’m not going to have an 8-yr old, then? They really do come out that small? This whole, ‘I’m going to carry a fragile little body in my arms’ thing is being taken a bit too far. They’re like nerf footballs, though, right? Don’t answer that.

Along with clothes, the tub was overflowing with receiving blankets. Just those generic ones, which I plan to turn into baby wipes.

If we’re diving into the world of laundering cloth diapers (worry #4), it makes sense to do cloth wipes too.

I mean, I love laundry! Cough, ahem.

At first I debated about making my own solution, which generally includes baby shampoo, tea tree oil, and some other ingredient that I can’t think of right now. I wish that last ingredient were distilled vinegar. Have I mentioned how much of it I have? I’m sure it’s safe on a baby’s skin…. Or at least on a nerf football.

But then I found Lusa Organics “Baby Juice”. The name made me uncomfortable, which is why I just had to have it. (If only to holler in front of company, “Honey!? Could you grab the baby juice!?”) That was a joke because anyone who knows me knows I can’t stand terms of endearment. Well, at least the overuse of them. Once in a while they’re sweet, but if I have to listen to a constant barrage of them, I’ll grab the nearest thing to stick in my eye. Hopefully that nearest thing is string-cheese or something. Then it won’t hurt, and I can eat it afterwards.

But anyway, supposedly the bottle of baby juice lasts a year if you mix a bit with water and spray onto the wipes as needed. Sounds good to me!

So I guess this is where the nesting bit comes into play? I soaked the clothes with light stains in OxyClean and then washed them, along with the other 0-6 mos old outfits. It does make me feel good to reuse all of these. If it’s hard for me to buy new clothes, there’s no way my child will stand a chance. Poor thing. It doesn’t know what its getting into.

After I put those away, I turned to the diapers.

…and washed those as well. The newborn disposables caught my eye and I repeated to myself, “nerf football, nerf football.” Those are TINY.

By the way, I do like when a random garage sale item finds its way into being useful. Like the old clothesline hamper I bought for a pricey $10.

Don’t judge.

The lady threw me off by asking how much I would like to pay for it. I never know how to handle those people. All sorts of thoughts go through my head: should I lick my finger and feel the breeze, what is the weather like, are they hot and want to go inside – so are an easy sell, will I offend her if I go too low, but it’s a garage sale – I want to go low, but I don’t want to offend her, does she get offended easily, will she laugh it off, if she does – will she still be my friend, I know I only met her seconds ago but I think she’d be fun to play parcheesi with, did I put on deodorant this morning, hurry and make a bid – she’s staring at you.

And then I blurted out ten dollars. She was a little too quick to take me up on that offer, which means I failed. Oh well, I love it. Plus, it came with a matching cloth bag of clothes pins which are holding up the curtains behind it. Love details like that.

And then finally, the toy box. Get a good look at your life, kid. You’re obviously going to need one heck of an imagination because toys are not high on my  ‘must have’ list right now.

Yeah, let’s give that nerf ball some chalk to play with. Mother of the year already.

I’m sure it will fill up in no time once the endless ‘why’ questions start. I don’t think the “Ask your father” answer will cut it for very long. Instead, let’s play with Cookie Monster!

I know there has to be other worrying things that are suppressed by my subconscious. And I bet they’ll all come out in that moment when labor has begun. Wait, I really did need a crib??

This is starting to get interesting.

In which I bore you with money talk

This stupid fly.

It followed us in yesterday after spending several hours enjoying the cold front that came through (high of 90 degrees). And now it won’t leave me alone. It literally follows me around and sits next to or on me at all times. Does it want me to tame it like the fox in The Little Prince? Well, I don’t care if it would like the wheat fields because you’re too annoying to tame, little fly.

You tickle my skin with your legs and who know how many times you’ve thrown up on me. Where did I hear that flies throw up every time they land on something. Disgusting. I’d rather tame a slug. At least, then, I could rub in the slug residue as moisturizer. See? It would have a purpose. What’s yours fly?

I’ve never cursed so much in my life and it looks like I have severe seizures every 15 minutes trying to get it out of my personal space. Forget trying to swat it either. I’m just not fast enough and, plus, I think this one is different. I think it understands English. So when I mutter I’m getting that damn fly swatter, it mysteriously disappears until I forget why I’m standing in the kitchen.

Hey, remember when PETA went psycho over Obama killing that fly? That still makes me giggle. It’s a fly. I could use those fly-killing skills right about now.

But I’ll put up with it if we could have days like yesterday everyday. It was fantastic.

R and I spent two hours playing scrabble (I won. Barely.), while he also worked on our financial spreadsheet. He amazes me with his Excel prowess. I make one click and three billion things turn red. Sigh. That’s temporary though.

Has anyone done the Dave Ramsey envelope thing? We’re not used to handling cash, as we have airline miles on our credit card… putting everything on the credit card and paying it off at the end of the month. This was my first official pay period with no incoming money and the first time that we’re starting to watch what we buy.

No more buying things because we either a) want it or b) would get a bunch of miles.

It hurts.

Doesn’t everyone work our their finances with a dry erase board in bed? (Side note: Notice the painted toes. Yesterday was the first day R had to paint them for me due to size of belly.)

But Dave is helping. We’re still using our credit card to buy fixed expenses (i.e. buying a Walmart gift card for each vehicle’s gas, because you get the 10 cents discount as well as miles. Shush it. We still like getting the miles.) and also for any other major expenses (i.e. car problems, trips – we are committed to keep this an important part of our life, etc.) But now we’re using cash as well. And that hurts at the moment, because we’re paying off our credit card bill that’s due as well as taking out cash for the current month.

I’ve also become a coupon extraordinaire and have found the trifecta of stores to tackle: Walgreens, Harps, & Walmart. Walgreens has some great cash back programs (Register Rewards that can make you money), Harps doubles coupons up to 50 cents, and Walmart will match any competitor’s price as long as you bring in the flyer.

I’ve even enlisted my mom to look at the flyers and tell me what are good meat deals. So last week I bought a roast. My first time ever.

And it was awesome.

So this is where I give thanks that R supports me staying at home, because this aspect sure isn’t easy. But I already feel us working together to accomplish something that we never had to think about beforehand. It feels good. I feel good making his lunch/dinner that stretches our dollar, I feel good keeping the shack clean & tidy, and I feel good taking care of little errands that we used to argue who would have to do next. I have the time  now to focus on that, and I’m so grateful it’s a possibility to do so.

And yes, I do take naps.

But before I do, if anyone has done Dave Ramsey and would share their experience, I’d love to hear it. Right now everything feels a long way off and any little bit success stories help.

Also, check out Passion For Savings, if you’re interested in couponing. She lists out great deals for you so you don’t have to think about it. She also lets you know when freebies become available. I’ve already subscribed to three magazines for free based on her directions (Shape, Everyday Food, & Bloomberg Business Weekly). Love it!

Vinegar, Vinegar Everywhere..Not a Drop to Drink

I’ve decided I don’t like choices. They overwhelm me. We’ve already scaled down on our kitchen appliances because of this. I mean, do I really need a cooking gadget for every. little. thing? It bugs me.

So when I started the saga of cleaning the bathrooms (horror of horrors), I looked under the sink to see what we had.

***Warning*** Graphic/Messy content below

Oh, just a bazillion different choices in there. Half of them we’ve only used once or twice and then bought something new because we forgot we had it.

How much money do you think is under there too? And yeah, yeah, yeah… the environment and all that jazz.

But for me, it’s the decision-making process that gets me down. I’d like to open up the cabinet and have one bottle staring at me.

So, what’s next?

Well, you buy about a swimming pool’s amount of vinegar. And then stare at it for a couple days wondering why you’ve done so.

Apart from throwing a bit into the wash every time you get that weird smelly load and need to rewash it, what’s the use?

Oh geez, well you can google “uses for vinegar” and a plethora of lists are made available to you. Vinegar has become my new love!

So I decided to make homemade cleaner that can be used on practically everything. Happiness.

Next step was to make rags. I found an old freebie 5K t-shirt that has seen better days and tore it up.

Later, R confessed that he really liked how that shirt fit him. Whoops. I offered to stitch it up a la his blue shirt written about here.

He politely declined.

Here’s the recipe:

  • 2 tsp baking soda
  • 2 tsp borax (I already have this on hand as I make my own washing detergent. See that incredibly short blog post here. I’m going to do a new post on it, though, as I found a way to make it even more inexpensive.)
  • 4 tbsp vinegar
  • 4 cups hot water

Add the baking soda, borax, and vinegar in the spray bottle. Then slowly add 4 cups hot water to dissolve all the ingredients.

How easy is that?

Then, use it to clean up all of the ingredients you spilt on the table.

Anyone want some of our leftover cleaners?

 

What is Essential is Invisible to the Eye

One aspect of this approaching 18-yr marathon on which we’re about to embark that makes me especially happy is all the book buying. I mean, I’m pretty sure my baby’s going to come out reading, right? At a 5th grade level?

Oh just kidding, folks. Maybe a 3rd grade level. I don’t want to put pressure on the kid right away.

So despite (or because of) my ignorance to age-appropriate books, I’ve been scooping up all sorts of fun things.

Like this lot from an estate sale for $5. The Collier Junior Classics (if only because our name is on it) as well as a 15 piece set, ranging from fairy tales to biographies.

They threw in the Little House on the Prairie bonnet for free. You know I’ll force them to wear that while reading certain stories.

But you know which book I simply cannot wait to read aloud?

The Little Prince.

I was studying in Spain for a semester and lived with a host family which included a 10 yr old girl. It was in her room that I slept. One day, after a 5 hr intensive study class, I came home and plopped on the bed. That’s when I noticed it: The Little Prince sitting on her desk. I think the shock of seeing English was what caught my eye, so I hungrily grabbed it.

And then promptly laughed and cried. Antoine, you killed me that day.

Right from the start, he captured me. Like, when describing how the protagonist, as a child, drew a picture of a snake eating an elephant. But the grown-ups could only see a hat (above).

They couldn’t see this:

So as an adult, he would test people with his drawing of a snake, saying:

In the course of this life I have had a great many encounters with a great many people who have been concerned with matters of consequence. I have lived a great deal among grown-ups. I have seen them intimately, close at hand. And that hasn’t much improved my opinion of them.

Whenever I met one of them who seemed to me at all clear-sighted, I tried the experiment of showing him my Drawing Number One, which I have always kept. I would try to find out, so if this was a person of true understanding. But whoever it was, he, or she, would always say:

“This is a hat.”

Then I would never talk to that person about boa constrictors, or primeval forests, or stars.  I would bring myself down to his level. I would talk to him about bridge, and golf, and politics, and neckties. And the grown-up would be greatly pleased to have met such a sensible man.

Or another favorite part of mine: the fox.

Sigh. The fox…who asked to be tamed by the little prince:

“But if you tame me, it will be as if the sun came to shine on my life. I shall know the sound of a step that will be different from all the others. Other steps send me hurrying back underneath the ground. Yours will call me, like music, out of my burrow. And then look: you see the grain-fields down yonder? I do not eat bread. Wheat is of no use to me. The wheat fields have nothing to say to me. And that is sad. But you have hair that is the color of gold. Think how wonderful that will be when you have tamed me! The grain, which is also golden, will bring me back the thought of you. And I shall love to listen to the wind in the wheat…”

……

So the little prince tamed the fox. And when the hour of his departure drew near–

“Ah,” said the fox, “I shall cry.”

“It is your own fault,” said the little prince. “I never wished you any sort of harm; but you wanted me to tame you…”

“Yes, that is so,” said the fox.

“Then it has done you no good at all!”

“It has done me good,” said the fox, “because of the color of the wheat fields.”

I tried reading this aloud to R and ended up crying through it all. We’ll see if I can buck up with my little one.