When There is Nothing Left

Lets recap:

1. Bryan lost his job.
2. I find out I'm pregnant
3. A big relationship in my life is altered
4. I turn 25 and announce my pregnancy - Dad is a no show, really no surprise there.
5. Bryan gets another job, finds out he is positive for tuberculosis, has to started intense medicine to be negative again. He will take them for nine months. They can cause complications with the liver.
6. Duey dies.
7. Bryan's dad has a massive heart attack.
8. Our new puppy, Sophie gets parvo. We spend a massive amount of money to save her life.
9. I have a 36 hour migraine, which causes me to miss nine hours of work, a Women's Christmas event at church, and an annual event, Wine & Chocolate downtown. Bummer.
10. Bryan dumps a cup of water all over his Mac book, which he needs to do his marketing work. This will result in us probably having to spend $2000 to get him a new computer, plus more with all the programs he needs for music and marketing.

But I get the pleasure of feeling our baby kick around and on Tuesday, we got to see our baby suck on its hand. On Saturday the 15th? We get to find out if it's a boy or a girl.

In the end you just have to hold on to hope. Hope for a better future, hope for relief in trials, hope that if you cling to God and push through, there will be an epic rainbow waiting for you.

Do It All

Every Saturday, I hit a new milestone in my pregnancy. This coming Saturday, I will hit 18 weeks. Everyone keeps asking me if I have found out if it's a little boy or girl yet. Apparently, with technology and the babies cooperation, many women find out at 14 weeks.

The doctors office that I was going to go through didn't set up my appointment until December 14, so we planned on having a gender reveal after that, near Christmas.

Now that I am with the midwife group, I need to cancel those appointments and figure out a new plan. I'm not rushed because I really don't want to hold on to that envelope for weeks and weeks before our gender party. I will most likely not be able to hold out.

I have my first prenatal appointment with my midwife on Friday. Obviously, I have had appointments with the doctor, but now that I've switched, I'm excited to get started.

We also start our Bradley Method classes on Thursday, which will be helpful for our home birth. We decided to go the Bradley Method route because it's partner based. Bryan will really have to step up and coach me and he'll have to get involved, which I think is great. They also teach lots of relaxation techniques to get through labor, which I'm hoping will also help me get through life. ;)

Outwardly, I'm doing well. My belly is growing, I feel better for the most part. Food is still a love/hate relationship, I am still exhausted, and I have a headache every day. I'm not joking. Head-pounding pain every single day. Its a real bummer, but I'm trying to work through it as much as possible.

Inwardly, I'm freaking out. Not about pregnancy or labor. I'm freaking out about all the details after the baby is born. I've always wanted to be a stay at home mom. I've made it pretty known since I was younger. It's important to me that I raise my kids and not a stranger. Also, we can't really afford for a stranger to raise our babies. Obviously, I'm pretty bummed that it isn't to be. I will continue working my full-time job because I am the one with health insurance. There is no way around it.

When I let myself, I start to think about how I'm going to miss out on moments that I always saw myself being there for. I think about all the smiles and giggles I'll miss. All the cuddles and meals that I won't be there for. Someone else will get to experience that. Do these caretakers realize just how lucky they really are? To see all the things parents miss?

I know more than a few stay-at-home moms and I can't help but be frustrated by some of them. They complain about having to be home. Having to do the same thing all the time. Not having money to live the life they think they should (although most of them have nicer "things" than the people I know who work full time jobs, including myself!) They get to have a clean house, clothes, moments with their kids and they aren't grateful. They get caught up in the day to day and never stop to think "Wow. So many women are out there missing out on their children's and husbands lives, because 40 hours of their week is devoted to a job." On top of that, they have to do ALL the things you do, in less time, with more stress.

With any job, at home, at work, paid or unpaid, there are moments when you hate it. I get that. Being a stay-at-home mom is not fun all the time. But I'd rather invest in my home and family than invest in a company that isn't going to remember me when I'm gone. Family is what matters. What they remember is what will keep me alive, even when I'm in Heaven with the Big Guy. I'm not saying stay-at-homers don't have a right to complain because itis hard, messy and frustrating at times. I mean, who wakes up and thinks, "Yes! I get to change more diapers today!!!" But then again, who wakes up and thinks, "Score! I get to go to work for eight hours, balance their budget, pay their employees and bills, and then go home and balance our budget, pay our bills and motivate the husband to take out the garbage!" No one, ever.

It's just hard to hear it when you know that there isn't a glimmer of hope that you'll get to be there with your kid. You'll be chained to a desk because you don't have any other choice. And you have to take some of the money you make to give to a person who is getting to spend time with YOUR child.

I just try not to let myself think about it. Every time it creeps up and my heart starts to ache and I just mentally lift it to God and say "Here ya go. That's yours, not mine." I remind myself that there are freaking awesome mom's out there that work full-time, pay for a daycare to keep their child safe and alive, make dinner, clean laundry, clean the house, find time for romance with their husband, and make memories with their kids. They go to sports games, concerts and recitals. They do it all.

If that's what I have to do, then I'll do it. Maybe with the next baby I'll get to be at home. Or, you know, maybe not.

Long Term Changes

The only problem with losing weight and getting pregnant is that while everything else shrinks back into an acceptable size, my belly is still just kind of pooched there. 

However, a huge benefit is that my face is coming back to me!!! I honestly didn't think I would see a change in my face so soon after losing weight. Over the two+ years that I gained, my face was the last thing I lost. I suppose that makes sense because your face is not somewhere that you are supposed to gain weight. But when you reach that point, where else is it supposed to go? 

My cheeks got huge and my already small, dark eyes got smaller and darker. Over the past year, when people asked me about my weight-loss goals, I would just simply say, "I want my face back." 

I wanted to look in the mirror and see me again. My eyes and my cheek bones. I was literally up to my eyes in fat. Ick. I knew things needed to change if I wanted to be photographed ever again. 

At this point, maybe people would say that they did this diet or that workout plan but I didn't. I cannot stick to diets. I loathe the gym. All I did was choose. 

Do I need that much rice pilaf on my plate? No.
Do I need to eat the entire ice cream? No.
Do I need to have multiple white chocolate mocha's a week? Nope!

I started to see the trend. I was eating waaaay too much. WAY. TOO. MUCH. My plates are large and they would be full. I would do my darnedest to eat as much as possible. It was so wrong. I am a firm believer that you can indulge. But when you indulge every single day? That isn't a treat. Its a way of life. 

So I cut down my portions. I ate a lot less. I tried my hardest to drink water and not soda. Unsweetened Iced Tea if I couldn't stomach any more water. I tried to stop eating late at night as often as possible. 

I started eating at home. If I didn't feel like cooking, I ate cereal. And not always Captain Crunch with Berries. Honey Bunches of Oats. Raisin Bran. With 1% milk. There did come a point where I wondered, even with healthier cereal, if I was over-eating. So, I few times in a week, I would measure one cup of cereal and eat it. If I was still hungry after, I'd eat half a banana. Very soon, just the one cup of cereal was enough. I didn't need any supplemental banana. I cut down the cereal a little more and added banana to the cereal. 

I didn't need the measuring cup for more than a week. My brain relearned what a normal portion was. I could estimate it in the bowl. If I got heavy handed I would use a spoon to scoop it back into the box. 

Losing weight for me didn't equate to a big life change. It was so, so many little decisions. Awareness and caution instead of rules and regulations. I would say NO. One-fourth of a cup of Superior Dairy Chocolate Milkshake with fresh banana was enough to satisfy a sweet craving. (Superior Dairy is a local ice cream shop, if you ever come to California, make your way to the Central Valley and go there. Seriously. It's worth it.)

I believe the best life is a life of moderation. And while there are many diets and work-out plans that can get you there faster (after all, losing 23 pounds since January only means a little over 2 pounds a month) It is worth it for me to go slow. It took me over two years to put all this extra stuff on my body. If it takes two years to take it off, so be it. That is my fault. 

I just know myself. After I lose the weight and the diet ends, I'll think, okay you are done! After the work-out plan achieves the results I want, I'll walk away. Eating this way, choosing to be healthier and conscious of what goes into my body means that my brain is adjusting and adapting into long term ways of thinking. 

I can have rice pilaf, but only a little bit.
I can have ice cream, but not the entire thing.
I can have fancy coffee, but only once in a while. 

Now that I'm pregnant, I'm worried. I'm going to gain weight. But I have made a promise to myself that I won't gain fat. I will continue to shed fat and just gain baby. 

I will eat healthier than I already was. 
I will lose the baby weight as soon as I can. 
I will start walking, now, so I can burn even more calories. 
I will not lose control of my eating habits or use pregnancy as an excuse. 

That said, Thanksgiving is this week, and I am going to tear it up. 

Since I know that, every other day this week I will eat like a saint. I will overcompensate on these non-holidays so that when my grandma's stuffing hits my plate, I know I can indulge and not feel guilty. It will be a magnificent treat to a week of eating well. 

And it will be absolutely worth it. 

Down But Not Out

I can't help but think that the baby that is innocently growing in my belly is going to be a complete stress ball, control freak when he or she grows up.

The past 15 weeks have been riddled with emotional junk. I've never felt so overwhelmed and attacked in my life. I can't seem to catch my breath. On top of all of the things I've written about lately, a week ago today, Bryan and I were sitting on the couch when we got a phone call.

Bryan's dad was having a heart attack and was being rushed to the hospital. We got there minutes later while they were trying to get him medicine and stabilized before sticking him into an ambulance and rushing him to a prepared hospital in another city. It was a span of three hours that he was in intense pain before they removed a blood clot from the main artery in the left side of his heart. As soon as that was done, they inserted a stent which provided immediate relief.

We spent the next few days in ICU where a balloon was helping his heart to beat, wondering where we were going from here. When we did get to talk to the doctor, he nonchalantly said that this heart attack is one they call the 'Widow Maker.' For six days I rushed back and forth, home and hospital, picking people up, dropping them off, getting clothes, supplies, food, trying to put in a few hours at work. Bryan was at the hospital with him for 24 hours a day from Monday night until Saturday.

It was an emotional whirlwind of a week and while Rick was released late Saturday night, I can't help but think they rushed it. He was still in pain and they didn't know where, he wasn't properly counselled on his new medicines and how he should be living his new life. It's very daunting to have your brain remain active and capable but your body cannot keep up.

I saw this with my Grandpa as he fought Parkinson's disease. What a betrayal of your body.

We are all trying to adjust. There is fear about our lifestyle, about the genes we are passing to our child, fear about what this means for Rick and if he is truly 'out of the woods.'

Having things like this happen really opens your eyes to who you have around you, lifting you up in times of struggle. It creates new relationships and deepens others.

While I am emotionally treading water, dealing with the physical changes my body is doing and the emotional crap-storm I have been facing lately, I am trying to keep my focus on these new relationships. My bible study, my family members, my husband, my baby. Its all worth it. I may want to run and hide, cry until I'm numb and just shut down, but I remind myself that God has me right where I need to be, and He won't give me more than I can handle. He is doing a mighty work in me.

Thursday Brain Dump

Pumpkins we carved with our life group. Mine is the bat, Bryan's is the diabolical face in the middle. 

Yesterday was Halloween and it took a while, but we did get some trick or treaters! There were only a few that weren't dressed up, but they were walking younger siblings and I respect that, yo.

Our house, decorated for Halloween. Simple, yet....awesome.

As we speak, I am watching the CMT CMA Red Carpet and ooohing and aaaahing over all of the pretty dresses. I do get irritated when I see a male country musician in a baseball cap - I mean come on! At an awards show? I don't care if that's your thing. You take that baseball cap off!

Anyways...I went to work today even thought I was sick. Around 1 my boss was so tired of hearing me sneeze, blow my nose and hack up gross stuff that she sent me home. I didn't end up getting out of there until 2 though because I wouldn't leave until everything was done for the day. I'm not sure how I'll feel tomorrow but I hope I can make it to work!

This past weekend Bryan and I caught up on the latest episode of Parks and Recreation and I FREAKED OUT about Leslie and Ben getting engaged. Totally awesome. I love their story arc and I love the show in general. They are a perfect balance.

Sophie, our new puppy, is in lockdown mode. You know what? Potty training is possibly the worst thing in the world. She got in biiiiig trouble today when she peed on our wood floor. She should know better by now AND I had just taken her out. Luckily she is cute.

Our Sophie girl. :)

One of my good friends, Colleen, married my childhood friend, Jordan almost one year ago! I can't believe that it's already been a year. It was photos at her wedding that really made me decide to start losing weight. Since January, I've lost over 20lbs, 1st trimester of pregnancy hasn't been a hindrance either. This baby is either gonna LOVE food or be incredibly picky about it. Both worry me. ;)

But seriously, my pregnancy has been pretty blessed when you consider that I haven't throw up even once. I just feel icky and tired all the time, and I literally have to shove food down my throat at times just so I know the baby is getting some type of nourishment. Saturday, I will start week 14 of pregnancy and I'm hoping that as I wade deeper into the waters that is second trimester, food will become a friend not a foe.

Cali & Sophie 11-1-12

Waiting...

..for ninjas, superheroes and princesses to come visit our house and eat our candy! So excited. :)  Happy Halloween, ya'll!!

Honesty...

I've always tried to be extremely honest on my blog. It's important to me that it is a true reflection of my thoughts and life because this blog is more for me than for anyone else.

Writing about ones life and posting it on the world wide web can make a person pretty vulnerable. I know a lot of people read but don't comment regularly and that is okay. I'm kind of a blog voyeur too. I don't judge.

Many times, instead of commenting, I'll get an email that I respond to privately, which is good too. For the record, I'd love to meet you, so drop me a line! :)

Anyways, back to honesty. I believe in being honest, not only on the internet, but also in my daily life. I strive to live a life with no secrets because I lived for a very long time in a life that was full of them. Growing up and having to pretend everything was good when everything wasn't made me abhor the double life. It's not something I wish on anyone.

Now, I'm going to this new phase in my life where I'm going to have to make a lot of decisions. I plan to blog about it when I can, but I've been thinking a lot about what that is going to look like and what consequences will come of it.

Will it attract a lot of people that will encourage me and my right to make decisions? Will it attract people that will bash me and bring me down? Will it change anything at all?

It probably won't. Most of the people that read my little corner of the world are my immediate family and some friends, so it should be fine.

The bottom line is that I plan to be honest. I plan to write what is really going on in my pregnancy and how I'm really feeling about it. It would be naive of me to think that there aren't people trolling the internet just to comment on how someone chooses to raise their family or wear certain clothes or whatever. I see horrible comments on blogs all the time and I hurt for the authors of them.

Now that I am pregnant I feel initiated to a club that seems to be pretty brutal at times. I already get weird looks from people about wanting to have a home birth and kick it old school. So imagine what people will say when they can sit behind their computers with complete anonymity. Yikes.

It can't help but be on my mind...

Girls, Girls, Girls

**I was having some minor formatting issues - sorry about that! All should be fixed now. If you are still seeing wacky things let me know. Thanks!**


Today, I’m thankful for women.

I haven’t always “understood” girls. Especially the ones that tear each other apart and bully other girls. I never had too many friends that were girls because inevitably, there would be backstabbing, boyfriend stealing and gossip. I never wanted anything to do with it.

Usually, I would have one or two best friends that were girls, and two or three friends that were boys. It worked for me, since I lived with three girls at home. I always said I could only take so much estrogen.

Since my seventh and eighth grade years, I’ve had probably 7 or 8 total girl friends. Right now, not counting my sisters, I've had two and a half. Then, all the stuff I’ve been writing about lately meant that I had one and a half.

I ended up talking to the friend that I was having issues with and without ever talking to me or hearing my side of the story, the half friend sided with my friend. “She was really good at being mad at you when I was.”

Before I move on, I want to clarify: I say she was a half friend not to be mean. She moved a little over a year ago and I’m really bad at long distance relationships. We’ve talked on the phone a few times, Skyped a few times, texted a bit. But it’s mainly my fault and both of our busy lives that is to blame. I suck at life.

So that half was gone… which meant I had one.

ONE.

At a time that I’m about to go through one of the biggest life changes and events that a woman’s body can go through, having just one female friend is just not cutting it.

Now, more than ever before, I am yearning for female friendship. Girls to band together to support each other through whatever is going on in their lives. To hold each other up and encourage each other and understand all the things that only girls understand.

I’ve never been one to reach out, because I am extremely fearful of rejection. It’s one of the precious gifts I got from being an alcoholic's daughter. I was scared to reach out and be met with crickets.

I did it anyways.

I set my fear aside and so far have contacted two girls that are moms. One of them well, we didn't even get along in high school and the other reads this blog (HIII!!!) who I enjoyed immensely in high school but never got close too and BOTH of them have welcomed me with open arms and made themselves available to me in whatever way they can help. They both had different experiences with the delivery process so I am getting lots of great feedback – with a whole lot of honestly.

It truly is refreshing. My heart is so incredibly thankful right now.

Us women truly need to stick together, and when we do, it’s a beautiful thing.

Worth It

I went and got the new Taylor Swift album today. I went after work to Target with my sister, Kari, to get the CD with bonus tracks. I came home with the intention of making spaghetti, but I got really frustrated that my pasta pot wouldn't fit under my stupid-doesn't-work microwave and I just couldn't even face the whole cooking meat thing. I turned off the burners and told Bryan to have cereal and that I hated food.

Bryan then said that he liked me better when I was in a good mood.

I said me too and walked to the living room. I popped in the CD, laid down and listened. He made dinner because he? Is a saint.

I only have a few songs left before I'm sure he'll pull the "I listened to Taylor Swift for over an hour so I want to watch something that is loud, has guns and bad people blowing things up" card and that's what we'll watch. He deserves it.

He started his new job today and tomorrow he figures out the treatment stuff for his non-active not contagious tuberculosis. Yaaaay.

He can watch whatever the heck he wants, I say.

This post was not even remotely going to be about my evening.

When I was....12? 13?  I went to a Christian play, Acquire the Fire. I ended up befriending a girl and we became best friends. Every weekend, every summer break, every church service, we hung out. We were closer than close. I was one year younger in school than her, so when she graduated and went into the service, naturally, our relationship changed.

Then she met a guy... and it really changed. I fought as much as I could for the relationship. I called, texted, myspaced. I tried to be a part of her new life, even though we were states and worlds away from each other.

It all kind of came to a head when I went to visit her and I met the guy. I hated him.

Truly, there is nothing worse than hating your friends boyfriend. Ugh.

He was in the service and had seen some pretty bad stuff at war. He was angry and messed up; He did not want help.

We went to their friends' house and I remember that I felt really uncomfortable because there were kids up, it was late and the parents were drinking and cussing. So, I went into the kitchen with them to color and the boyfriend came in a little while later.

He was drinking whiskey. I was stone cold sober because that's kind of my thing, but you wouldn't have caught me drinking in a place I didn't feel comfortable in. It was just me and him and we were talking. I had asked some lame question because I felt awkward, and he looked up from his glass and he said, "You know... sometimes when we [him and my friend] are play wrestling, I want to really hurt her."

I stared at him a long time, trying to keep my face calm. I was seething. I've seen domestic violence, I've been hurt by someone that lived in my home. WHY would he tell me this? Why would he tell his girlfriends BEST FRIEND this?

So calmly, I said... "Katie has told you my history, right?"

"A little." he said.

"You know her Dad was in Vietnam?"

"Yeah."

"....If you ever, ever hurt her, we will kill you. And there won't be a body to find. Is that clear?"

Mind you, I was 19, all of 5'3 and 128lbs and this was a near 6'0, tall, lanky infantry dude. My voice was steely serious. He got a surprised look on his face and said, "Yeah. I won't."

I nodded and before I walked out of the kitchen, I said, "Get some help."

When we got in my friends car, I was shaking. I begged her to break it off. She made excuses. Reasons. Validations. I told her to just break it off until he gets help. That it wouldn't be a healthy relationship.

She ended up dropping me off at her barracks and going back out with him. I slept on the bottom bunk, watched movies on her laptop and cried. I was sad because we never saw each other and she left me in her room, in an unfamiliar place to be with a douche-bag. I was sad because I could see the warning signs and couldn't help my friend. I was sad because I knew our relationship had shifted and there wasn't anything I could do about it.

The next day, she bought me an iPod. I had never had one before and I told her no. She had said, okay, she wouldn't. She insisted that she buy me a Danielle Steele book for my flight home. I kept looking at stuff while she bought it and she came back with both the book and the iPod.

Every time I see that iPod I think of that trip. I flew home listening to music she put on it, praying that she would leave him. When I got home, we were further apart than ever before. She wouldn't talk to me about her boyfriend and soon I stopped trying.

A few months later she called me to tell me she was pregnant and I started crying.

A few months after that her new best friend emailed all of her family (by pressing reply-all to one of her status updates) asking her when she was going to change her name. They had gotten married and no one knew.

At least I didn't.

I sat there stunned. I was so sad. After all those years, she didn't even tell me she got married.

I still tried. As much as I could. I would try to Skype with her. See her new baby. See them when the visited.

They were married for a few years and her birthday came along. I called her all day. Over and over and over again. I was devastated that she wasn't picking up my calls and I was worried.

She called me very late that night saying she had just gotten out of jail. That her husband had been cheating on her and they had gotten in a big fight and it got violent. He and his mistress lied to the authorities and blamed it on my friend so she went to jail.

I couldn't believe how it had all turned out. She's still dealing with the drama of that relationship and we talk only occasionally. Our relationship is all that it can be at this point.

Every once in a while I'll get so sad that our relationship turned out the way it did. That her kids won't know me as Aunt Megan, and my kids won't know her as an Aunt either. I doubt very much that if her son saw me he would know who I was. I wasn't there for his birthdays or Christmases. It breaks my heart.

Now I have another relationship that is falling apart. We haven't spoken to each other for a few weeks now, not about anything important. Our friendship is in this huge limbo and I can't help but wonder...

Will my kids know her as an Aunt? Will she be around for the delivery, birthdays and Christmases?

The circumstances of each relationship failing are absolutely different. I fought for the first one and I guess that's made me not want to fight for another. Why didn't/haven't either of them fought for my friendship?

I've been thinking about that question a lot. All I can come up with is, maybe I'm not worth it.

Life is a Process...

There have been multiple times over the past few weeks that I've opened up Blogger, hit the New Post button and just stared.

I suppose I would freeze because there are so many things I could write about. So many different words to type.

I could write about a friendship that was damaged and now just hangs in a weird limbo. With neither one of us doing anything about it and it seems like we don't want too. Words were said and there was a lack of reaction on a huge event in my life and I'm just not sure where to go from here. So, I'm going no where.

I could write about losing my dog, the dog I loved and cared for since I was 19. I could write about the terrible night he was hit by a car. The night I saw my husband cry harder than I've ever seen him cry before. The night that I watched my husband dig a hole, where he placed my dog, and then covered it. I suppose I could write about that.

Or, I could write about how just a week or two before all this happened, I found out I was pregnant. Even though I had been told that it would be 'very difficult' for me to have a child, that doing so without medical intervention would be "entirely unlikely", after almost three years of not preventing it, God blessed me with this tiny, little miracle. I could write that I'm stunned, honored and scared. I'm equal parts excited and terrified.

I could write that just a week before I found out I was pregnant, my husband lost his job. In one fell swoop, I became the main bread-winner and a mom, lost my dog, and mourned a damaged - maybe beyond repair -  friendship.

Yes... I suppose I could write about any one of those things. But considering that each event is heavy on its own, I guess I can't blame myself for not wanting to rehash it all in writing. I guess I'm just still processing it all.

Trouble.

I have always loved pop culture. Even when I was in middle school I was aware of what movies were coming out and who was acting in them. I loved watching documentaries on their lives. Like E! True Hollywood Story and MTV's Diary series. I would read biographies (usually just the authorized) and would soak up the story. It doesn't just revolve around stars and their lives.

I love learning about peoples stories in general. Their testimony and their background. I think its extremely interesting to learn what made that person who they are today. It's fascinating, really. The roller-coaster we all ride, the various forks in the road. All of that is ridiculously intriguing to me. However, I'm also not one of those nosy people. I won't go searching and delving into who you are to strip you to the core. But if you are offering, I'm listening.

I've mentioned before that my father is an alcoholic. He's a good guy, funny and smart. But he's an alcoholic. It's just the truth. He has an incredible story. What I know of his life before alcohol became a major part of it is pretty amazing. But his life is halted every now and again when he drinks. Then he stops and he starts to live again. His reasons for drinking are his own, but they are there.

He, and his alcoholism, are a part of my story. It's undeniable. You wouldn't have me as I am today if it wasn't for his story. His story has affected mine in positive and negative ways. Which is true for all the people that I have met and had a relationship with. Once you meet someone, they are a part of your story. They are a notch on the belt of life, as it were. Sometimes, meeting someone once will affect your life in such profound ways that it alters the course of your life forever. Other times, you'll know someone for an extremely long time before the effect of that relationship is known.

The reason I'm going into this, is because The Hollywood Housewife posted a blog entry titled, aunt awesome.When I read it, I just kept nodding my head and saying yes! I have two nieces and two nephews and I have struggled with how to be an aunt.

Why? My aunts were mediocre at best. That is not a negative statement. There is no ill will. It is just a true statement. The relationship I had with my aunts is definitely not one that I want to replicate as an aunt. There were a lot of factors as to why I didn't have great relations with my aunts. The aunts on my Dad side spoke a different language than me. I was only close to one of them regardless of the barrier and she was more like a second grandma to me.

The aunts on my maternal side lived twenty minutes away and because of many different reasons, I think they  each gave up on our aunt-to-niece relationship. So, I would see them at special events and holidays and it would be nice. We'd catch up a little if we got to talk and we'd go our separate ways. Then, around the time of my wedding, there was a lot of drama and ugliness because of a labeling issue with their invitations, and things were said that can't be taken back. Whatever bond was there out of family duty was broken and since then, its been cordial but nothing more. Hellos and goodbyes. I wasn't angry or holding a grudge. My wedding changed a lot in my life, more than just the obvious ways. It was what it was and in the grand scheme, the righteous anger I could have felt for the rest of my life wasn't worth it. It's true, even when you have a right to be angry, doesn't mean you should. So, I didn't and don't.

Holidays have always been rough for me and I like to disengage during them. It's a childhood thing. When I got married, I wanted to make new, fresh traditions with my husband and pull away from travelling all over on holidays to doing what Bryan and I wanted, be with our closest friends and family. I saw how much that hurt my Mom and out of love and respect for her, we started going again.

Today, I posted that article and said that it resonated with me, that I only had one aunt who was not blood related that was there for me no matter what. That I desired a better relationship for my nieces and nephews than I had with my aunts. I want to be the aunt that I never had. But when you don't know what you've never had, its hard to be it. There is no example to live by.

There was no malice or evil intent in posting that. I was expressing a desire to change my story with my nieces and nephews. I had no control over how my aunts treated me or what kind of relationship they wanted with me. But I do have control over what type of aunt I am to my sisters children. I don't want this subplot in my story to be in theirs.

Unfortunately, one person read my post without reading the accompanying article from The Hollywood Housewife and inflected whatever she wanted upon it. She decided that I was taking shots at my aunts, and even after clarifying in the comments for all to read, it wasn't enough. After words were exchanged I deleted it and re-posted with "being an aunt is hard... hope that doesn't offend anyone." I was flummoxed that I was suddenly in trouble even though I wanted to be better. How could this be? How is it that someone is being discouraged from pursuing to be a better person, role model, confidant, friend? Aren't we, as a society expected to learn from our own mistakes and those of others and be better to the people we love?

The relationships that have been and not been in my life affect me and how I want to go about my future relationships. Because of the relationship I had with my father, I don't drink much. I want to have a better parent-to-child relationship when I am in control of one. I will do things right, I will do things wrong, and my child will change things to be a better parent based on their experience. That is how it should be.

There is an extreme difference between stating that you want to do things differently and better than you had it done to you and unloading about every offense, every characteristic that sucks, every awful thing they've ever said in a public forum.

Somethings are not a personal attack on who you are. Some things are just the truth, even if it makes you uncomfortable. If you don't like that truth, change it. If you can't, do better in the future. Let that story line, that experience, affect your relationships in the future. Don't make the same mistakes twice. If you've wronged a person, get over it, get through it, say sorry and don't do it again to someone else.

Get Real: Accepting Life

This is the third post in an on-going series, Get Real. You can read the first one here and the second here. Stay tuned while I go through this journey of self-discovery. 
--

Wow. What a year 2012 has been. I didn't think life could get any busier. But you know, things are good.

Obviously, I still suck at updating the blog. Cleaning my house. Keeping up on laundry. Cooking dinner.

FYI, I attempted to make dinner twice this week. And I screwed up both times which resulted in no food.

Super. Wife points this week? -2.

I'm tired of trying to be what I think a wife should be. I'm just me. I'm 24. I still throw my clothes on the floor after a long day of work. I'd rather hang out with friends then scrub my floors. Whatever. Everything is acceptable. I have clean clothes to wear. I eat food. My house is clean enough. This is a season of my life where I can afford to let things slide. Before I know it I'll have kids, and they'll need to have home cooked meals, and the floors will need to be cleaned regularly cause they'll be crawling on them. I have plenty of time in my life to be a homemaker. My priorities will shift when that happens.

Right now, I just want to live. Do what I can. Have freedom. Not be so hard on myself.

So what if the garage is messy?

I mean, honestly, if I have to chose between hanging out with my husband on the few nights a week we actually get to see each other or organizing tools, Bryan will win out each time. Cause I kinda love him, ya know?

Allowances

Today I was reading Grass Stains, as I do every day and she posted on how her and her husband do allowance.

Let me just be honest with you right here, right now. I have been starting to think about babies every so often and..... poor Bryan.

Imagine my surprise when I'm like oh yeah, once I have a baby, I'll have a toddler, and a young kid, and a tween, and a teenager and then an adult. I should think of the stages PAST the baby phase.

Whenever I hear someone say allowance, I have to remind myself that exactly that is. It's a foreign concept to me. My full-blooded Portuguese parents did not do an allowance for us. I think part of that was there were no extra funds. My parents owned a mom-and-pop hardware/maintenance store. My Dad would fix TVs and sell vacuums and all sorts of tools, my Mom would do the books. They had a man named Andy working in the back and he'd do house-calls and I'd watch him soldering for hours with goggles that made him look funny.

Do you know many alcoholics that can maintain a business that is solely based on them being there?

Yeah. That, coupled with the fact that Americans stopped fixing their electronics and would instead just throw them away and get a new one, well, times were tough. My Mom went into insurance and my Dad followed soon after.

Back to allowance, there wasn't any. But it's not like I felt like I was missing anything. I had no idea that parents would pay their children! I like to think that, if we were out and about and I was behaving and I asked for a quarter to get some of that delicious-for-two-seconds gum out of the machine, my Mom would say okay. If I wasn't or she didn't have a quarter, she'd tell me so. I'm sure I was pouty and ridiculous sometimes, but I don't remember it. What my mom said was law. If she told me to stay right by her I usually would. If she told me at the grocery store that I couldn't have gum, I wouldn't. If she said yes, then yay!

While I was in elementary school, my mom and I would pack my lunch. She'd make the sandwich, I'd get the bag, chips, Capri-Sun and she'd usually stick an apple or banana or something in there. She'd give me a dime to buy milk if I wanted. REGULAR MILK. I only cheated on Fridays and bought chocolate! Middle school, I'd pack my lunch and she'd give me two dollars on Friday to eat at the lunch cart that had burgers, curly fries, pizza pockets.

If I was going to a school dance or to a movie or dinner with friends, they'd let me go if I was good and they'd give me money to pay for myself.

In high school, they gave us $15 a week until we were able to have a job. However, $3 may have cut it when my sisters Alison and Kari were in school, but I was barely eating my freshman year. Kari, who was a senior at the time, vouched for me and told my Mom that $3 just wasn't enough for me to get a drink and a meal at lunch and a small snack at break. So, my mom upped it to $20 a week for me. The extra dollar helped tremendously! (And I'm not being sarcastic!) Then, my friends and I got wise and we started sharing meals, snacks and sodas so we could save some of our lunch money for weekend activities. But this would usually HELP my parents rather than hurt because my mom would say, "How much do you want?" and I'd say, "Just like....$5?" and she thought she was getting a bargain, while I thought I was working the system. I probably could have pushed for $10.

Once we got hired, no more money from them, at least for the little things. Since I was young, I didn't turn fifteen and a half until the end of my sophomore year, but I would babysit to pay my own way. I didn't like asking for money. I still don't. I literally got a job right at my fifteenth half birthday. My Mom and I were shopping at Mervyn's, (RIP, Mervyn's. You are still one of my favorite stores ever.) and I saw the kiosk to apply, so I asked my mom if I should. We figured that even though was I was younger than the legal age, I was just shy a few weeks, maybe they'd start me then! So, I sat right down and applied.

Oh, how I shmoozed that interview. I am GOOD at that stuff, let me tell you! I was excited and responsible and they loved me. I got the job and they put me on the schedule as soon as I was legal. I no longer accepted money from my parents, only rides to work. And most of the time a friend would take me. I'd get out of school and I'd work a 3:15 to 7:15 shift three times a week. I loved it.As I got older, I worked more to get paid more. I paid for all my clothes, make up, and activities. My parent's still kicked in for yearbooks and important things.

I was never paid for chores around the house, grades, or anything else. I was expected to be a part of the family and that means cleaning the house and going to school and studying. My reward was a clean house, good grades and the trust I built with my parents so I could escape with friends.

However, one thing that I wish my parents had done and that I fully intend on doing, is saving my birthday money. More times than not, I'd get checks in the mail and in a card for my birthday. They'd cash it and give me those funds. OH, how I wish they would've put it in an account for me. I wish they taught me to save and tithe with my money. Luckily, I'm really good at that and have never had any issues with money, but I just think about how if it was all saved, it could have helped me get a car or a new bike or whatever. It would have made me wait for the big stuff instead of spending on crap that I honestly can't remember.

Now, back to what I think I would do with my kids... I'd like to think that I would give them a monthly allowance. Probably starting from Kindergarten. I'm thinking that each child would have a jar system. One jar for saving, one jar for giving, and one jar for spending. I don't think I would give a certain percentage for them to do, I would just say that from every allowance there has to be something given to the giving and saving jars.

With the giving, I would have them split it between our church and a charity. With the saving, I would put that and all their birthday money in their own special account, which Bryan and I would be adding to for college and other expenses. Their spending money could be used for whatever they desire. The ice cream truck or to hang with friends.

Also, I never knew what my parents made. I still don't know what kind of living they made. I know Christmases were for coats and shoes, not toys. We had lots of hand-me-downs, supplemented by a few new things here and there. Our basic needs were met at all times. However, when my kids are of age, I'd like to be really transparent about our finances and they way our house runs. I want them to know how much we spend on each child every month, from medical expenses to savings to their allowance. What we tithe and how we give to those less fortunate. I want them to understand how a house runs on as basic of a level as I can make it, so they never take for granted how hard their parents work and how you live within your means, always.

I haven't talked to Bryan about allowances and I don't know how he feels about them. I know I'll have a chore chart and that'll be taken into consideration when they ask to hang with friends, watch tv or any other type of free time. But I don't want them being paid for being a part of their family. Now, if they come to me or Bryan or their siblings and say, I'll do YOUR chores for a dollar, I'd be down with that.

It teaches work ethic, yo. :)

Get Real: The Best of Intentions

This is the second post in an on-going series, Get Real. You can read the first one here. Stay tuned while I go through this journey of self-discovery. 

--

My house is a disaster zone. 

Every surface has something on it. Mail, magazines, books, tech stuff. 

EVERY. SURFACE. 

Everything is just messy. 

During the work day, I'll get all motivated. I'll say to myself, 'When I get home, I'm going to prep dinner, and then I'm gonna start a load of laundry and clean up the living room. Put dinner on the table, then maybe give the dog a bath. Yeah... I'll even organize my linen cabinet!'

I get all excited about the things I'm going to do. How its going to be so clean and refreshing! Maybe I'll even buy PLANTS!!

Guess what? 

I get home, I look at the state of things and I lay down and shut my eyes.

I can't be the only one that does this... right? 

Probably not. Please don't think my house is like some episode of hoarders. It totally not. But it's definitely lived in. Bryan's socks are on the floor in the living room, there is a water bottle or cup here and there, there are boxes of pictures that I need to sort though and scan. 

Honestly, if we just took 10-15 minutes every day it wouldn't get like that. But we don't. Who has 10-15 minutes to spare? Not us! On any given week Bryan and I will have two nights at home. TWO. That's it. Mondays and Wednesdays. And sometimes, he practices music on those days. But on average, we'll say two. 

By the time that dinner is prepped, cooked, eaten and cleaned up its 8. By that time, we're done. I don't want to move, Bryan wants to watch a movie, and the house goes uncleaned.  No laundry gets done. 

I just don't know how to get and/or stay motivated once I'm off work. 

So I thought about it. 

And thought!

And thought!

I came up with nothing. I mean, honestly. What type of person can just get motivated to clean? Stupid people. That's who! 

Eventually, I decided that I need a plan. Nothing too crazy, but I basically needed to SHOW myself that I do, indeed, have time to clean up the house AND have lounge-around free time. I may not get as much of it as I want, but it's still there. And that works. 

Here is a limited snap shot of my Google Calendar for tonight and tomorrow. Obviously, most nights I'll only need ten to fifteen minutes to quickly put away junk, but to start out, I'm putting extra time because:

1. I have a lot to do.

2. I'll need time to develop systems and change things around to be more efficient.

3. I have a lot to do. 

But, as you can see, I've made sure to put free time on the calendar, so that I have something to look forward to. I need to know that mindless sitting and wonderful snuggling with Bryan is going to happen soon. It's motivation. 

I'm hoping that having a clean, organized house will help get my zest for life back. I won't dread coming home, I'll be excited to tackle new projects, and I won't be as overwhelmed. It's an easy thing to fix and control. 

I always tell Bryan that our house is the base of operations. It's the place where we retreat to rest, regroup, celebrate and grow. Working on our home and getting it to a place where I feel like I can fully relax seems like a logical place to start. 

In the interest of keeping it real, today is the FIRST DAY I'm trying this. I don't know if it'll work. But every good idea needs to have a starting point. Today is as good a day as any!

A Peek Inside My Brain. It Ain't Pretty.

Periodically (and by periodically, I mean one other time) I pull questions from a questionnaire that I found on the blog Grass Stains. I've decided to do a few more of them. Enjoy!

1. Have you done anything lately worth remembering?
   Yes, actually. Bryan had a gig in Los Osos, CA a few weekends ago and we went together. On Sunday, we hopped over to Morro Bay to do some thrift store shopping and we went to Morro Rock. We were walking around when Bryan spotted a gorgeous Saint Bernard. His owners let us greet him and he was the most loving, gorgeous dog. His name was Wally and I was smitten.  I need a Saint Bernard, stat! After that, we went and had lunch at The Galley which was amazing, then we went to feed the seals. It was a special day for us and one I will remember for a long time. 
2. What does your joy look like today?
   Today, my joy comes from my blessings. Every day I get to drink water and eat. I can put on clothes and buy things I need. I can walk. I can drive myself to work and back to a warm, comfortable home. I am so very blessed.
3. Is it possible to lie without saying a word?
   Yes. And you feel just as guilty when you omit as you do when you lie verbally. Trust me.
4. If you had a friend who spoke to you in the same way that you sometimes speak to yourself, how long would you allow this person to be your friend?
   Not long. My internal dialogue mostly consists of "Megan! Why do you suck so bad at life?" and "Megan, its cool. No one is looking at you weird. You do not seem out of place. You do not have toilet paper stuck to your shoe. You probably do not have a booger hanging out of your nose. Just keep being invisible. Do not attract attention! Wait... Am I attracting attention by not attracting attention? Be cool. Breathe." It would be annoying to have a friend that is berating me half the time and trying to ease my anxiousness the other half. 
5. Which activities make you lose track of time?
   Anything with Denise, my best friend. Crafts, painting, watching TV. Swimming/tanning. Pinterest. Reading books. Oh dear that is probably the worst! 
6. If you had to teach something, what would you teach?
   Budgeting. I'm good at helping people get out of debt and stay out. I have a knack for everyone else's cash. I just hate analyzing with my own. :)

It's About to Get Real

This post is the first in the series, Get Real. Please stay tuned as I go through this journey of self discovery.

If you are a regular reader of my blog, you probably know that the quantity of my posts has severely decreased. There are many reasons for this and I'm sure I've addressed it before. But have I really been honest?

I want to say that I have. I want to say that when I look back on this blog I'm going to read it like I would an old diary or journal. Actually, it will probably be worse. I'll probably be more mortified because this is public, my old diaries are not.

Very quickly after I got married life got hard. That's not to say that my life didn't have sweet moments or fulfilling ones. It just got hard. We were looking to rent, and somehow we ended up buying a foreclosure. I damaged one at that.

We moved into my father-in-laws house and immediately started construction to make it livable. Now, when you picture any newlywed, moving into an in-laws house, having construction done on their first home... It sounds like it could be a TV show. Everyone knows marriage is hard. But everyone thinks that newlyweds go through this blissful stage their first year. Yeah, no. That so doesn't happen. It would be amazing if the first year of marriage was like two sides of a zipper, fitting together perfectly and securely.

Unfortunately, people are not perfectly cut. We are jagged and broken, we have scabs and scars. It's hard to fit two jagged pieces together, isn't it? Same with people. Taking two lives and melding them into one smooth operating machine is a pipe dream. It's hard with a capital H.

I'm NOT saying it can't be easy. There are personalities that are just easy. I am SURE that more than a few people would be like, our first year of marriage was full of rainbows, unicorns and butterflies! However, in our case it wasn't.

We had fitting-together pains. Heaped upon that were the growing pains of buying a house, coupled with living with an in-law. Topped with a cherry of working 40 hours a week while trying to make sure the contractor freaking. showed. up.

You know those people that can handle fifty-thousand stressful things at once, all day, every day and they are fine? More than that, they live for it? Hi. I'm not one of those people. I'm great under pressure. I can juggle a thousand things at work. What I cannot do is juggle a stressful job, a stressful relationship, a stressful marriage, a stressful house, physical and financial stress all at the same time. I can handle some of those things together, but not all of them at the exact same time.

To bring it all together, for the past two years and five months I've been dealing with all of those together. And after a while of pushing through I just gave up. I stopped fighting. I don't have the motivation to fight all of them at once. I do the bare minimum in order to survive. I don't feel like I am thriving right now.

I feel like I suck at life because when I wake up in the morning I groan and think, "No. Not again." I get ready and head to a stressful job that I love. After 7-8 hours, I drive home to a stressful husband that I love. The last thing I want to do is clean the litter box. Or make dinner. Or THINK of making dinner. I don't want to scrub toilets or floors. And ew, don't even talk to me about exercising. I do the bare minimum to just get through the day. If I have to do laundry I'll do it. If I have to go grocery shopping I'll go.

Where is my joy? My zest or zeal for life? I'm a Christian and I feel like a failure because I pray every day for God to change my heart. I 'fake it' hoping that he'll follow through on my actions with feeling. So far, it hasn't happened.

I hope this doesn't sounds complainy. That's not my intention. I am not unhappy. (Well, I am unhappy about how much a weigh. Gross.) But, I'm missing a key ingredient in my life. I feel like a cake that is sunken in the middle. Why?

In an effort to be as cheesy as possible, that is the million dollar question. Why do I feel this way? Where is my joy? What can I do to fix this? Is it even fixable? Can I strip my feelings down to find the source?

I'll be posting as I go through this journey. I don't know if it'll be every day, once a week, or once a month. This is all in real time, so however long it takes I'll be writing.

The Weekend

Sometimes, having a day to sleep in, watching your husband play Zelda while casually flipping through magazines is just what the doctor ordered.

Oh, and painting your nails? The cherry on top. :)

My Life

My life is:
complicated.
lazy.
busy.
hectic.
annoying.
blessed.

I lose sight of whats important. And the 'free time' I have? I don't want to spend it scrubbing toilets and floors, doing laundry and cleaning up after myself, Bryan and the dogs. I want to have fun!

So, what I'm trying to say is that I'm a slacker.

I've been having a hard time getting motivated to do ANYTHING. Even blog. I suck.

Here are some recent photos of my life:

I made my FIRST pizza from scratch. Its Margherita pizza with chicken, basil and oven roasted tomatoes! I made the pizza dough from scratch by following this recipe. The only thing I would have done differently is I would have made the crust waaay thinner. I do not like my pizza to be bready. Yuck!

This is Bryan standing in front of only a small part of Morro Rock. We walked all around it and I got to meet my FIRST Saint Bernard dog. His name was Wally. I need one STAT.

This is Bryan in a tree in Los Osos. It was a perfect climbing tree!

Before Bryan and I headed off to Los Osos and Morro Bay, Bryan played at Harris Ranch. He's an amazing musician! My favorite cover song of his is Last Kiss by Pearl Jam. He was singing that when I took this picture. You can check out his stuff here.

I saw this AH-MAZING desk at a thrift store in Temecula the week before last. I wish i would have bought it. :(

A terrible picture of me but a cute picture of the birthday girl, my sister Alison! We went to San Diego for her 30th birthday and we had a blast!

I was going through old pictures, and I came across this one of my Dad. Since we aren't on speaking terms, I don't have to worry about him getting mad at me for posting him looking like an old portuguese lady. :)

I'm going to hopefully bust a$$ in the house this weekend so I'll have some updates for next week! 

It Hurts

ARE YOU READY FOR SOME FOOOOOTBALL??? Wrap-up? Except... not really.

Yesterday was the Superbowl and more importantly, was an excused day to eat 7 layer dip and lemon bars.  Didn't you hear? Calories don't exist on Superbowl Sunday. ;)

While we only watched the coin toss, the half-time show and the last minute of the game because we don't really care much about football, it was still a nice day.

Sorta.

There was a bunch of drama between my alcoholic father and me.... and I ended up getting a pretty gnarly headache.

Luckily, I was able to tough it out because Bryan and I invited Denise and Bryan's cousin Ali to come over to watch movies and eat food. I sat there with a heating pad on my head, drugged up, and I kept repeating, "Bryan, shhhh... you are too loud!" and "No, Bryan! I don't want to drink any alcohol. I'm drugged right now!"

But around 6, my head started feeling WAY better, I was finally able to have a lemon bar and a little more dip, and we watched That Thing You Do. Love that movie! I made minestrone soup in the crock pot for our dinners this week, and I made enough to freeze half for another meal later on. Woohoo!

All in all, it was a fine Superbowl Sunday.

Yesterday was just another instance of how devastating it is to have someone that you love be addicted to drugs, alcohol or involved with other styles of destructive behavior. I feel so sad for my Dad, for my family, because this will never end. It's the same cycle over and over again.

It's especially hard because while I can usually deal with it in (what I can only hope is) a healthy way, it still is a constant in my life. It's always there, looming around the corner. It's a major pain, emotionally and physically to deal with someone that is so all over the place. Especially when they are 'normal', they are amazing. Its like mourning the death of one of your favorite people all the time. Over and over again.

I don't want anything bad to happen to my Dad. But at the same time, I want this cycle to end. I want it to be over. I hate the roller coaster of it all. The mean words, the broken promises, the pretending. It's all so heavy that I just don't to deal with it anymore. Even if I pulled away and cut all communication, I would still think about it and wonder. And miss out on the good times that come around every once in a while.

It just is what it is, I guess. But it still hurts.

Things are Not-At-All as Kinky as They Seem...

Have you ever gotten home, fell on your bed and never got up again? No?

No?

Then I definitely did not get home last night 8:15 in the pm, take off my pants and fall into bed without even plugging in my cell phone. I did not stay in bed until I fell asleep at 10 and I did not sleep through the night until 7:15 without so much as waking up when Duey sneaked his way onto the bed.

Nosiree.

I got home last night, did an hour of yoga, cleaned my whole house top to bottom, made cookies for my husband and caught up on all the laundry.

Okay, okay. Was it the yoga or the cleaning my house that gave it away?

I was so, so, massively burned out last night that when I got home from my CASA training, I did that movie star thing where as you walk, more and more clothes come off until you fall into bed thing. Except usually movies have two people doing that. I just had one. My husband found me snuggled in bed in the dark about 15 minutes later.

Bryan: Whatcha dooooin?

Me: I'm in bed.

Bryan: I see that. Want to watch a movie?

Me: I can't.

Bryan: Why?

Me: Because I'm in bed.

Bryan: Why?

Me: Because I can't move anymore. I need to just stop. No phone, no computer, no movies, no reading. Just silence and the dark.

Bryan: So what am I supposed to do?

Me: Lay down.

......5 minutes later....

Me: Bryan! No cell phones!! Just disconnect for a while with me!!!

Bryan: So you just want me to lay here alone?

Me: You aren't alone! I'm right here. Shhh.

Bryan: (sigh)

Cali: (groan)

Lily: (meow)

Bryan: Let's go watch that movie!

Duey: (Grrrrrr....)

Me: (sigh) No! I can't. I'm so tired.

We all ended up staying in the room for the rest of the evening until Bryan went to shut down the house. I never moved. Not even to go to the bathroom after drinking all that water. I slept all night. But when I woke up?

I felt like Hulk... or a vampire or something. I woke up from the dead and I tore off my shirt while screaming, "AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!" And Bryan was like, "IT'S ALIVE!!!!" Except he was more like, "Hey babe, how'd you sleep." Same diff.

I feel ah-mazing. Like I can tackle the world! Which I pretty much have to tonight. I have a ton of errands to run and then I've gotta get my house cleaned up and laundry done. I'm also hoping to take pictures of the living room tonight to post them. It might have to wait until tomorrow.

I'm going grocery shopping tonight so that I can make some snacks for Superbowl Sunday. Bryan and I will probably just watch movies all day and then watch the half-time show... We aren't really watch-sports-on-tv people. But we are eat-superbowl-snacks people!! Which explains why we are both chunky. :)

Over and out!

Water, I Love to Hate You.

I read in an article, I don't remember which one, that most Americans are extremely dehydrated and that most of the time, Americans 'thirst' mechanism goes off as a hunger pain because the body has been trained to know that the only liquids it might get are through the food process. (Because you usually drink when you eat.)

This was astounding to me. I think back on my days and realize that other than a cup of coffee in the morning for breakfast, some milk/juice or soda at lunch or dinner, that is all I drink. For the entire day.

Wow. Not okay! Oh, that article also says that drinking water throughout the day can help you lose weight, help you stay awake, help your hair grow, help your eye-sight, help your stiff joints/back AND keep your skin pretty.

And I wasn't even drinking a tenth of my eight 8oz glasses a day. I've been trying to remedy it. I have a water bottle at my desk and I constantly sip from it and replenish it from a Brita container I bought at Target. When I start to feel tired or I have blurred vision from sitting at the computer for so long, or I feel 'hungry', I drink water  instead. I just keep taking little sips, here and there. I've worked my way up to drink about a bottle and a half at work.

When I get home I fill up another bottle and I sip from that all night. My goal is to drink three bottles of water at work (16.9 oz bottle) and 2 bottles of water at home (20 oz bottle). So I would be consuming 90.7 fluid ounces of water a day. Plus when I drink juice, tea, soda, milk, etc.

What I have found is that there is a cycle. I noted down my thoughts this past week. (The times are averaged.)

• 8:45: Coffee... mmm...I could drink coffee all day every day. But I only get one cup, so it better be GOOD.
• 9:30: I only drank half my coffee. I could heat it back up or drink water. Chose water. Fill bottle. Ugh.
• 10:00: Got up to go the copier. Leg is super stiff from having it tucked under my other leg in a half Indian-position. Note to self: Stop tucking leg under other leg. Drink water.
• 10:45: Ate lunch with the girls. Forgot to grab water. Did not drink while eating. Guzzled water when I got back to desk.
• 11:30: Kids lunch time. Here we go. Sip water.
• 12:45: Talk to Jessica. Hate water. Won't ever drink any more. Its tasteless and disgusting. Took a drink of water.
• 1:45: OHMYGOD! IMSOTHIRSTY! GOINGTODIE!
• 1:47: Refilled water bottle with cold water. Drank 1/4 of bottle. Brain-freeze. Why did I DO that!
• 2:40: Took a sip of water, kids are almost gone for the day.
• 3:45 YAY! Almost time to leave. Holy crap I need to PEE. 
• 4:00 Leave work. 

This is how it goes just about every day. I waiver between water is the BEST THING EVER to this water is DISGUSTING; I can't drink any friggin' more water or I'm going to shoot myself in the foot with a water gun full of mud. 

Seriously, I have a love/hate relationship. All these people keep telling me, "Oh, just get some of those Crystal Light powder packages that transform your water into FLAVORED water." No. Just, no. Those are disgusting. I don't want to spend any money on water-enhancing products. I am not going to drink synthetic powder that is made up of chemicals and aspartame to make my water taste strawberry-ish or whatever. 

No. 

I can't tell you that I have had any miracles happen since I've become focused on drinking water. Seriously. The only thing I can really tell is that I'm water bloated as crap. Its like my body is holding on to every ounce of water that it can cling its little molecules to because it knows I'm probably going to go into dehydration again soon. My own body doesn't trust me. Sad days. 

The only real change is that I'm visiting the potty-room more often than usual. But I know I'm not where I should be because I'm still only going four, maybe five times a day (morning, work, after-work, during lounge time, before bed) when I used to go three, (morning, after work, before bed). 

I'm assuming this is not normal by gauging how often the teachers visit the restroom at work. Since my desk is right by it I can monitor the normal comings and goings. Although, many of our teachers have had kids so that messes my perimeters up a bit. 

Don't worry, its not lost on me that I am monitoring the bathroom usage at work to see if I'm normal. 

I'm fully aware that I'm a freaking weirdo.

Post Summary: I'm Ridiculously Talented at All Things Photography

I sold a necklace! That is one necklace more than I expected to sell. So, goooo me!

I have had a lot of hits, though. People are looking. Which is good, I suppose.

In other, more important news, I redecorated my living room this weekend. Full Disclosure: Denise and I redecorated my living room. She was my muscles. :)

Did I ever mention my World Market hutches obsession? Let me look back. Please hold.

I gave up.

Because I'm dedicated.


I'm gonna go with no; I did not tell you about the hutches from World Market. Which is unfortunate for two reasons. The first being, I have been obsessed with said hutches for about a year...or maybe a little over. The second...I was totes blogging when I first found them.

Luckily, this blog has never been solely centered on home decor so I did not fail.

A year ago, or maybe over, I found these hutches.

World Market Farmhouse Hutches via Decor Pad

They are beautiful. And $498 for just one. I would need two. Ouch. I couldn't pay that and I knew I couldn't get the hubs on board either. So, I watched...and I waited.

Two trips to Visalia ago, I saw that the hutches were on sale... for 50%. Ohhhh. Tempting. I kept talking to Bryan about it but alas, no go...and I waited.

The day, January 16. Where? World Market. What? Farmhouse Hutches. Price? $224.00 Also? Zero interest if you use your WM card. Which means by the end of Feb, those babies would be paid off, no problem.

Bryan said no. I was calm, I explained that for two 'trendy' pieces of big furniture that would last us a very long time at a price of two under the price of one? Come oooon. He scoffed. "Wait. Just wait until they are discontinued." "Fine." I said. "But I think we will end up regretting this decision." And that was it. I was sad. 

When I say that I was obsessed, I mean... I was ob-sess-ed. No joke. I checked on them weekly. Imagine my surprise when I went online the Thursday after that and they were gone. I freaked out. I called Visalia and they said, we only have the display. Sorry. 

The whole time I'm talking to them I'm texting Bryan:

Me: "OH MY WORD, THE HUTCHES ARE GONE."

Me: "VISALIA SAYS THEY ARE DISCONTINUED." 

Me: "I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS; WHY DID I LISTEN TO YOU?!"

I called Fresno.

Me: "VISALIA ONLY HAS THE DISPLAY" 

Me: "CALLING FRESNO RIGHT NOW IF THEY HAVE TWO I'M BUYING THEM."

Bryan: "What?! This was not an approved purchase!"

Me: "YOU TOLD ME TO WAIT UNTIL THEY ARE DISCONTINUED. I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU SAY I'M BUYING THEM."

Fresno: "We have two, in boxes."

Me: "Sold."

I now have two, fully assembled gorgeous hutches sitting in my living room. I win. 

But having those in there made me want to rearrange and fix the rest of the room. While it is not done (when is a room ever done?), it's much better. I'll take progress pictures tonight. Probably....soon. 

PS. In my campaign for hutches, I sent this to Bryan, text included:

"I'm so good at photoshop. I have more talents than you."

PSS. Yes, this was right around Christmas time. Yes, I know my house is messy. Yes I know my robe tie looks like a wonky drawing of a vagina. Don't judge me.

PSSS. Ten points if you can spot the cat.

PSSSS. In case you were wondering, my house is not crooked. It is not some built on a hill house. It is very level. These are my fine photography skills. They match my fine photoshop skills. I am a jack of many trades.

My Heart is Pounding.

Have I mentioned that I started making jewelry? It ain't no thing. I just really needed a hobby and non-medicated help with my anxiety. 

Turns out, I REALLY LIKE IT. So much so that Bryan was like "Hey, you need to sell some of this crap." And I was like "Hey. It is not crap. It's jewelry." And he goes, "Oh yeah, you are totally right. Its amazing and if you want to buy more jewelry supplies you need to sell some of this crap."

At least, I think that is how it went. 

Anyways, I really, really don't want to sell my stuff. What if people don't like it? What if I suck at it and NO ONE BUYS IT? I'm not all that great with putting myself out there and stuff. 

Well, I opened up a store. It's all kinds of free and then you use paypal to buy stuff and they charge me and I send it to you. It's pretty simple and safe. Except... when NO ONE BUYS YOUR STUFF. 

Because that'll probably happen to me. 

Did I mention that I posted the link to Facebook and I feel like I'm gonna throw up? No? 

I'm gonna go hide under a rock. Happy Sunday...

Friends are for Coupons...

Let me set the stage. I'm at work, innocently sipping on my iced coffee, on the phone with a credit card company that is trying to screw the district and over. my. dead. body. will that happen.

I'm put on hold while the super nice guy talks to his 'manager' about fees that I'm just not going to pay, darn it. And I'm bored. I'm waiting for a while. I grab my cell and cruise on to Facebook.. why not? Right? Right.

International Delight are the smart, smart people that have been bottling vanilla iced coffee GOODNESS and I was the smarty pants that tried it out. It's at the grocery store for like... $4.58 or something. You might think that's expensive. But, to me? My normal favorite cup of joe at Java Heaven is $4.25 for a 16 oz tall. Yeah. For an extra $.33 I get not one drink, but up to five or six? At my convenience? When I open the fridge it is there and I never gotta do anything put shake it and put it in a to-go cup?

Saaaay whaaaaaaaat?

So, ID posts that they are having a give-away. A gallon of your choice of iced coffee. Just sign up. Signed.

Click here for a coupon? $1.00 off ANY ID product? Clicking.

Oh. Shucks. You gotta 'refer' them to a friend or two in order to get the coupon. Hmm. I don't like doing that. I am really uncomfortable with the whole, post this give-away on your Facebook page and get another entry! That's not what the Book o' Faces is for, yo.

But I really want that coupon.

Enter, my best friend, Denise. SHE won't care if I refer her. Because what makes me happy, makes her happy. And Megan on coffee is a happy Megan. So I click on her name and submit. Lo and behold, I have a printed coupon for my vanilla-y coffee goodness.

Oh yeah. Considering I just ran out TODAY...this is happiness. Except...Now I have it... and I feel bad. I sold out my BEST FRIEND for a one dollar coupon. Is that all she means to me? $1.00?

So I wrote her and said... "I'm sorry I sold you out for a $1 coupon......But it was totally worth it."

I feel much better now. 

In Which, I Forgot.

I had something interesting and entertaining to blog about today, but guess who forgot what it was?

THIS GUY! Errr... Girl.

I've been sitting here thinking about it... What was it? Do you know?

Well, I can tell you this, I feel sick. Who ate a small piece of cake, a pop-tart and an orange twenty minutes ago?

THIS GIRL! See? It doesn't work with girl.

Do you picture me with my hands up and my thumbs pointed to me? Cause that's what I do when I read it out loud.

It's who I am.

I just finished making dinner and now I'm gathering a list of items I need to get at Target. I haven't been there in quite a few weeks... I've been staying away because it is just so dangerous for the pocket book to go in there!

But I must. We are out of necessities. Like... beans. Laundry detergent. Cotton swabs. Gold fish.

While I am there, I will think about what I was actually going to blog about. If I remember, I'll write it down for tomorrow.

Because after Target, I've got homework to do for CASA.

Since this post didn't have anything cool, I'll include this:

This is a picture I took on Denise and my birthday trip in November. We were on a boat ride.

Ohhh, I should blog about that trip! Niiiiice. See how that worked out?

You May be Entertained...Or Confused.

You know how I was all hunky-dory on Saturday about my awesome plans?

Yeah. About that.

After we finished with the manicures, Bryan decided to have our friend cut his hair. Then, we went to eat at one of our favorite cafes in town. All is well.

Inexplicably, a headache started coming on. A bad one. Us migraine folk tend to call them migraine-headaches.  Which almost inevitably turn into migraines. Yup... I got a migraine. While Bryan went out shooting guns, I was left to take care of myself. In the end, I fought the migraine and ultimately, I won. I was down for about three or four hours.

I walked my feeble little body to the couch and Denise came over to hang. We went over to my sisters and did pretty much nothing. By the end of Saturday I was ridiculously exhausted.

Yesterday was very interesting. After church, Bryan and I fought the entire way to Black Bear because he decided to go THROUGH TOWN instead of taking two roads that are faster/easier went to lunch at Black Bear with my sister and her family, before heading to Tulare for a surprise gathering for my crazy, sweet, hilarious grandma for her 80th birthday. It was cute. And fun. And always awkward. It amazes me how disconnected I am to that side of the family. My cousins and I are all strangers. Nuts.

Regardless, it was a nice gathering, and last night, Bryan and I shut out the world and hung out. It was relaxing and nice.

Now that the recap is over, on to the good stuff.

This morning I woke up early to turn on the shower (our water heater is on the opposite side of the house. It takes a while to warm.)  then, I ran back to bed for a few minutes to wait. A MILLISECOND before I am to arise again, I feel Bryan get up. I get out of bed and start walking and I hear the shower door open. And I gasped! I ran in there and guess who was in my shower? GUESS WHO? It was BRYAN. That's who. And I grabbed that brush furiously and I ran it through my hair and I turned around and said, "You stole my shower." and he said, "If you shower first I'll be late."

So you know what I did? I got in. And we DON'T take showers in the morning together. Because its damn cold. Who wants to stand there getting sprayed by little shots of cold water that bounce off the person getting the hot water? NO ONE. That's who.

Oh, there were narrowed eyes. And grumbles. And frustration.

(Also? I am aware that it is too much information... but we totally wear bathing suits in the shower. So fear not. ;)

So, before I get on to the most entertaining (to me) part of the morning, I have to rewind.

Yesterday, after the surprise birthday for my grandma, Bryan and I shot into Visalia to return a game expansion pack to John T's, which is in the mall. Except that it's not. Like, within the past three weeks, they up and LEFT the mall. To Bakersfield.

And I was ALL IRRITATED because Bryan parked 50 miles away from both entrances to the mall, so he could get 'closest' to the John T's that wasn't there. And I was like its cold and rainy and WHY DID YOU PARK SO FAR AWAY? So we bickered the whoooole time in the mall, which put us in amazing moods. And guess what? When we walked back to the car, it started raining. Who was right? Me. That's who.

Bryan says, "What do you want to do?"

"I'm really tired. I'm down to go home."

"Well, do you want to go to the Men's Warehouse?"

Yes. I definitely want to go to the Men's Warehouse. Were we can't afford a sleeve off of a jacket. "Why would we go there?"

"I need a blazer."

WHAT? I mean....WHAT? "What?"

"I need a blazer and they sell them."

"WHY on God's green earth do you need a blazer? And why would we go to the MOST expensive place to buy one?"

Uh oh. I made Bryan mad. "I need a blazer because I'm not allowed to wear this [normal, nice, black jacket that was $100] at work."

Uh oh. Megan is mad. "Why in the HELL can't you wear that jacket at work??????"

Uh oh. Bryan is more mad. "Because its against the [STUPID] dress-code at work. I'm not allowed to wear it during work hours. I can only wear it to and from work, but I get freaking cold in that office."

Now, Bryan has never said this, but I will. I think that Bryan's work dress-code is bordering on sexual discrimination. The men are only allowed to wear a certain colors of shirts on whichever corresponding days, with long sleeves, buttons to the collar, with a black tie, black pants, and black shoes. Even in the 100+ degree summers we have. However, the girls are allowed to wear long or short sleeves shirts (of the right color on the right day) with no tie and with certain-colored sweaters, skirts, pants, blazers, with whatever jewelry and hairstyle. This makes me really mad for Bryan...

One time, he was super sick with a fever. His employer discourages using sick time, BTW, so he is sitting at work, miserable, with a fever. He has his nice, $100 black coat on. Shivering from the fever. (Did I mention the fever?) Trying to get through the day. And guess what? His concerned manager says, take off the coat. Even though he works in the back of the office. Even though none of the clients see him, like ever. He does marketing, behind the scenes, but he can't wear his coat. When he came home and told me that, I about went down there and Portuguesed their asses.

Apparently, this was the last straw for me. "First of all, that is the most RIDICULOUS thing I have ever heard. Your jacket is super nice! It's black and expensive!! and Two? If we were going to get you a blazer, it would be from Kohl's. Not from freaking Men's Warehouse. [Your employer] doesn't DESERVE Men's Warehouse."

Harrumph. The ride home wasn't awkward at all. When we got home, I ate crow (which is always hard to swallow) and said sorry and that I was pretty sure I got some Kohl's coupons in the mail and we'd get him a blazer so he'd be warm.

Hello, Tangent. Back to the morning.

I'm getting ready and I have to look nice. I have an interview for the CASA program today immediately following work. I must look nice. Also? I need coffee. I run to the kitchen to get a pot going, and I see the Kohl's envelope. Cool. Coupons. I rush back to the bedroom to finish hair and make-up and all signs are pointing to 'Late for Work'.

So I'm hustling and Bryan starts gearing up to leave...right after I put the toothbrush in my mouth to clean the chompers and I'm about to start dressing. Mentally, I'm going insane. I need to be dressed nice and professional and still be comfortable. I'm worrying and stressing and trying on a billion different shirts and I HAVE NOTHING TO WEAR.

I know its hard to imagine, but I'm pacing and walking and internally having this total anxious breakdown and Bryan is not even aware. Men. So stupid. I'm bordering on crying because I feel like such a fat, ugly, piece-o-crap with no awesome clothes and WHY CAN'T I BE SKINNY AND AWESOME?

 Bryan gives me a kiss on the cheek, and leaves. I walk from the closet to the bed to steady myself as I put on heels, because I settled glumly on a shirt that doesn't look good on me, and I see Bryan's wallet. I grab it and run while simultaneously putting on my other heel, to try to catch him, and he turns the street corner without seeing me, frantically waving my toothbrush in one hand and his wallet in the next, and moaning what I'm sure did not sound like stop! I spit in the lawn. (Sue me.)

I RACE back to the bedroom to get my phone, call, and say, "WALLET." and he goes, "Noooo! Oh well. I'll be late if I turn back."  

I finish brushing, grab my coat, purse, pour myself some coffee, grab my lunch, and the remember the Kohl's envelope. I tear it open and guess what?

It's not a bunch of coupons. It's a new credit card. It's a credit card for their MVPs. Which I believe stands for Most-Valuable-Purchaser. If you have a normal Kohl's card, and you spend $600 in a calendar year, you get a Kohl's MVP card for the next calendar year. With it, you get all kinds of discounts and promotions. (Kohl's really does have the BEST credit program, with lots of discounts, and I keep the limit at just $300 so there is no way to get into trouble. I love it!)

The irony of holding that card in my hands after just totally blowing a gasket over having no clothes is just unreal.

I know, without a doubt, that I have at least $600 worth of clothes JUST from Kohl's and JUST in the last year. Odds are that most of that was spent on me and not on Bryan. Shame on me.

PS. I was 12 minutes late to work. Good thing I planned on working right up until I leave for the interview.