Grizzley Bear

My trip home for the holidays is less than a week away. I am so excited to see everyone, especially Tabba. But part of me is not ready to go. I usually don't mind leaving Brad behind and heading home. Not this trip. He has been so gentle and sweet for the past several months, I am going to miss him very badly.

Home will always be home, but I don't live there anymore. My home is now beside Brad. I thought it would never happen, but it has. I always knew I would never feel like anywhere else could ever be home. But time marches on and it has pulled me right along with it. I no longer feel like an outsider here. I know my way around the entire state, I know the local vanacular, I am very acustomed to the weather, I live here now.

I worry that my big strong husband will be really lonely for two weeks with a quiet house and no one to come home to. I will miss his huge arms wrapped around me, so tight that I can't think and have to surrender to sleep. I know how cold it is and worry about not being here to make sure he has a healthy dinner and a nice warm lunch the next day.

I guess what I am getting at is that Turner and I are Brad's family and he is ours. Just doesn't feel right not being together. Moving away changed our dynamic. I had to learn to rely on him and he on me. And it has been this way long enough that I really do like it.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those whiney, dependent, unsure of herself women who has to have her husband's permission for everything. I have my own friends, my own life seperate from his.I have driven cross country on more than one occasion by myself. I fly all the time by myself, or in the last two years, wrangling my little boy with me. I lived in the US's fourth largest city for two years. Drove every where by myself and loved it. But I also love coming home and sitting down to dinner with my grizzley bear of a husband. I love how Ward and June Cleaver we can be. Cold nights spent down stairs after dinner just sitting in front of the fire, enjoying each other. I will miss bed time for Turner. We share the bathing and the getting him dressed. Then we all crowd into Turner's bed and read stories, our heads squished together on one pillow. I know Brad will miss Turner more than anyone can imagine. They are glued together from the minute Brad walks through the door at night.

I will miss my gruff other half even more because he's not a phone person. I'll call him every night. He will ask about our day, he will talk to Turner, tell me he loves me, and we'll say goodnight. All together it'll take about three minutes of phone conversation per night. Really, it's about all he talks when we're at home together, but I am sitting in his lap sharing his recliner, so it's better.

So I will really look forward to the day he gets to fly in. Then it will feel like a complete trip home. We'll eat too much, open presents, and I'll get to sit in his lap again. Then it'll be time for the Currier's to pack it up and leave. Head back to our home. Get back to the winter routine as we know it. Watching the weather, Brad salting the driveway for me the night before a storm, sledding, and being a family. All things that used to seem so foriegn, now are my daily life, and it's a life I truely love.

Beware, I'm feeling gross today...

The nature of vomit is fascinating to me these days. There are so many differents types, almost more types than there are foods. There's the all liquid, oh so easy to get up and out. The very dense foody type, it requires a lot of heaving. The empty stomach vomit, the worst of all. Piecey vomit, happens after you eat leafy vegetables. So many more but I won't go into every type or I'd be here all day.

I experience one or more of these a day as of late. Usually my breakfast stays with me. What about one packet of Quaker oatmeal could really be that offensive anyway? Lunch, lunch is a crap shoot. How the dice land will only be known after they have been tossed, pardon the pun. I do OK with very bland, plain, repetitive things-my good ole turkey sandwich. Supper, my suppers are never good. If it weren't for Brad and Turner insisting on eating I would shut down the kitchen at noon. Supper rarely stays down.

I have three options that fall upon me as the dinner hours beckons. None of the options are desirable, but here's what I have to choose from:

Option One - Eat supper, a very small supper. Remember to drink lots of tea or water. The fluid intake is critical. If fluid intake is low, I will have the foody type throwup which causes a near black out from the sheer wretching and convulsions it takes to get it up and out. Lots of fluid = no passing out.

Option two - Bite the bullet ahead of time, throw up before I attempt to eat supper. This is the option I choose out of sheer despiration for want of food in my stomach. This involves the worst of the vommit types, the empty stomach vommit. Typically not much in there but acid and bile. But this one hurts and burns so much it is to be done only in the most dire of circumstances. Recovery from this takes a while. My throat is on fire, as are my sinuses. Just like clock work, some stomach acid will get into my sinuses with this and I will smell and feel it up there for an hour or so. The rewards are small for braving this, a very small supper can be held down about eighty percent of the time. When I say small, I mean small, less than what I would portion off for Turner. But when it does stay down I feel moderately nauseated til I go to bed, but the next morning is with out the sea sick feeling for a few hours.

Option three - It isn't really an option, it's what happens when it goes beyond my control. This is the "option" I had lat night. It is a combo of options one and two. Makes for not a very pleasant night, if you know what I mean.

Now all of this probably sounds like the world's best loose weight quick plan, but alas, I am not trying to loose weight. I am down about five pounds, an trying to go no lower than that. When I feel good, I do eat. I try to eat healthy, you know, get more bang for my buck. But sometimes all I want is soda and junk. I hate soda, coke, pop, what ever you call it. I know it's all bad for you. I usually only drink water, skim milk, a small amount of juice (cause let's face it, it's just sugar), and decaffinated, unsweetened tea. All of these are pretty good for me in one way or another. The Cherry Coke I have been lusting after has no nutritionally redeeming qualities. I have had two Cherry cokes and one Dr Pepper in the past month. Way more than I should, but sometimes everyone buckles I guess.

So I will do battle with the nausea, cronicle it for anyone sick enough to read a reveiw of vommit, and hope it passes in a few weeks. Til then I have advice for you, chew your food very well. You never know when you might get food posioniong or a sudden stomach virus. Well chewed food is the key to getting things up and out. You mom was right again, imagine that, "Chew your food dear, you don't want to choke".

Pickles and cottage cheese

Pickles and cottage cheese, gross I know. It's what I have wanted to eat for the past few days. Lowfat cottage cheese, with salt, and either a sweet or dill pickle. Strange what hormones will make you crave.

Now, I know that I have a few odd eating habits. I like the taste of mayonaise mashed potatoes, mayonaise toast, ketschup on my red or white beans, peanutbutter and honey, french fries dipped in my Frosty and so on. Everyone has things they eat that would seem weird to another person.

What will be my taste tomorrow? Prerhaps chocolate frosting covered potato chips, or an avacodo/vanilla shake? Who knows? When I was pregnant with Turner I had the strongest need to eat olives. This struck me as odd because I don't eat olives. But, never the less, I got up, drove to Albertson's, bought a can of black olives, drove home, and sat down and ate every last olive. To this day Turner still loves olives. When we go out to eat we get the olives on our salads served on the side and he eats every last one. He also orders his own olives for his Subway kid's sandwhich. Strange isn't it?

Thankfully, I can cook just about anything. So if I get a hankering for something odd I just go make it for myself. I know I can cook, if you looked at Brad's waist and you'd know it too. Besides, I have a Mormon friend who likes to steal my recipes and pass them off as her own. Isn't impersonation the sincerist form of flattery?

Thanksgiving for the Currier's is not being spent at our house this year. We'll load up the food and bring it to our friends'. Being a good cook is a burden sometimes. I only agreed to go elsewhere for the holiday if I could still make the cornbread dressing, caseroles, and dessert. Brad and I were meant to be together, he'll only go if he gets to prepare and fry the bird. So, if your ever looking for a work free Thanksgiving, invite us to your house, we'll bring all the food and do clean up after.

It just wouldn't be a "real" Thanksgiving with out my Mawmaw's cornbread dressing and my Gran's sweet potao caserole. If I can't have all my family here, then I'll at least have their food and all the memories that come with it.

My sister is a damn good cook too. I will be missing out on her pumpkin cheese cake this year. It has become it's own tradition and a necessary item on the buffet. Luckily, she'll make it for me at Christmas. I may not live there, but I still have stroke.

So I am off to eat my third helping of salty cottage cheese and pickles for the day. I hope the weird cravings last long enough for me to use up the food bought to satisfy them. At this rate all looks good, but tomorrow is another day.

No more sweet dreams

So we're back, Vegas was fun but I am so glad to be back to normal. Turner is having a hard time adjusting to being back at home. He loved me sleeping in his bed all week. I even slept with him at nap time. Now he thinks that should be our new routine.

Brad and I did the "Cry it Out" method with Turner when he was 8 months old. He slept in our bed and nursed all through the night up to that point. I was desperate for a real night's sleep. The book Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child was purchased and read cover to cover. We dove right in. Put him in his own room, in his own bed and let him scream his little lungs out. It was the hardest three nights I have ever spent. The agonizing cries of my baby going on for two hours, then one hour, then the third night only for a couple minutes. From then on Turner has slept in his own bed and gone to sleep easily.

Until recently his sleep habits were almost too good to be true. A story, a hug, a kiss and off to sleep with out a peep. The honeymoon is over. He knows we're out here, staying awake with out him. He wants to be with me. Is it such a horrible thing?

In through the door parades my mommy guilt. I hate hearing him cry. Is he scared in there in the dark? Will he be scarred for life from the trauma of being left alone in his room? What should I be doing to make this better? When he wakes up in the morning and sounds like a little two year old smoker, horse from yelling, can my heart break more? When the crying stops and he just asks in a quiet voice "Mommy please come Turner's room, Please?" How do I not?

I, of all people, know how important it is for a person to learn to sleep well on their own, but at what price? I need my sleep, so does Brad. We also need time to just the two of us. I need an hour or two a day with out Turner on top of me. All of which makes me feel guilty.

I love every minute with him, but I also value my time from eight to ten at night when I get some down time. On the rough terrible two days I really envy working moms. To get to function all day with other adults, what a luxury. But on the good days, and on almost everyday, I feel so blessed to watch his every little milestone as it races past.

So I hope he goes back to sleeping and napping easily. I hope I can stand it til then. I am not like Brad, I can not just tune it out with a loud TV. Turner doesn't call out for Papa either, only My Mommy. I need him rested and happy. I need to be rested and happy too. I need to not dred bed time and hold my breath when I turn out the light.

Vegas Baby

I have to pack today. I am not too fond of packing. I am never sure of what to bring, so I bring everything. Besides packing, I need to worry about what to bring on our trip to keep Turner occupied in the car for six or seven hours.

Don't get me wrong, I think a week in Vegas with my boys will be fun. Turner and I are planning on swimming until we just can't stand it anymore. Brad will only be in meetings for six or so hours a day. So, we'll actually get to see much more of him than we normally do.

I am just not that big on Vegas. I've been twice, feel like that's all I ever need to go. Really, I was done after my first visit. I don't gamble. I may waste twenty bucks on an entire trip to Vegas but that's just because we're there. I could go the rest of my life without buying a lotto ticket or playing the slots. I know lots of people love it, but not me.

So, Turner and I will go check out the M&M Museum, we'll catch the acts at Circus Circus, we'll walk by and watch the pirate shows. This will probably be my most fun trip to Vegas because I'll ge to watch Turner see all of it for the first time.

I have the best memories of my childhood. We did so many fun things, far too many to count. We did Disney three or four times, Six Flags at least that many, we went camping on just about every school break, we hit every fair and festival and it's parades, we had the best childhood anyone could ever ask for. As great as all of it was, it doesn't compare to being a parent and getting to do all of it over again and watching the person you love most in the world experince joy. Now I know why my parents brought us to so many things. They were sneaky, letting us think it was for Tabba and I. Now I know that they were having the best time watching us be happy kids.

So we'll let Turner stay up late and watch the light shows. We'll stand in front of the dancing water and let him dance too. I will enjoy letting someone else make our beds everyday. I will also enjoy not having to cook or do the dishes for a week. Brad will love getting to see Turner in the daylight hours. That's a luxury he isn't often afforded, he leaves before sun up and returns after dark six nights a week.

So maybe a week in Vegas won't be that bad. We'll eat out, we'll be tourist, we'll swim ourselves silly, and most importantly we'll spend time together. That is what is most important. I hope when Turner is my age and has kids of his own that he looks back and can say that he had the best childhood ever. It's the best thing my mom and dad ever gave me. Fond memories, a strong family, and a blueprint on how to try to be a good Mom to my children. Thanks Mom and Dad.

Redemption

So Mr Gay Gay Husband got himself an idenity makeover. Arguments serve a purpose in a relationship, I suppose. Maybe me telling him what was actually making me mad instead of just arguing about what was at hand helped.

Women hold on to words, fights, and emotions, or at least I do. Mr Formerly Gay Gay Husband does not hold onto or really remember arguments. Men are simply hardwired different from us. This makes living with them challenging. Living with Brad is like having a split personality. I have to do what makes me happy and at the same time think about what makes him happy. These are ususally at two different ends of the spectrum.

I have to realize that on his day off he likes to rest, not hike or bike just because I want to. He has to realize that I am not a lay around the house and stare at the TV type of girl. I have to realize that until Hell freezes over I won't be receiving loves notes. He has to realize sometimes you just have to say something nice, even if it takes effort.

So when does marraige become easy? I don't know if it ever does. I don't mean complacient, just not a struggle. I realize now why the divorce rate is so high. Sharing your life with the same person for years on end is just plain hard. It takes so much work. Thankfully having Turner made some things easier for us. We fell right into being Mommy and Papa like we were meant to do this together.

If money were no object I would love to have at least four kids. Those first few sleep deprived, walking zombie-like months were my favorite time of my enitire life. Watching Brad become a father, lying awake at night, nursing a baby and feeling Brad's hand reach out for both of us was when I knew I was meant to be a mom.

I loved nights with Tuner. Maybe because he really didn't cry much at night. Maybe I loved them because I finally had someone to keep me company when I couldn't sleep. Now I love nightime because both my boys look so sweet and innocent when they sleep. I cannot wait to have a baby to share the wee hours with again. I cannot wait to have a baby to share with Turner and Brad.

Mr Formerly Gay Gay Husband listened to me and made real efforts. Our marriage is like all things living, it cannot survive with out being fed and nurtured. Our marriage is lots of hard work intertwined with waves of heartache, and surges of happiness. The trick is to find someone who can ride the eb and flow with you.

I have thought about the new age of internet dating. If Brad and I both went on Match.com I know, without a doubt, they would never match the two of us up. They may even catorgerize the two of us as combustible if mixed. But I need the flames and the explosions. After all, waht would the Fourth of July be with out the fireworks?

Passive agressive anger management

Passive agressive anger management. That's what Myspace is all about. I am pissed at Brad right now so I take him off my "Top Friends" list. Will he notice? No, he doesn't log in. Will he read this? No, he has never read a one of my blogs. Does he notice a damn thing about me? No, and never will.

He is gay, that's why he doesn't notice. He salivates to watch men in tight spandex costumes dance around and hump each other. You've probably seen it too, Monday night wrestling. Ask him any of their names, weights, records and he can spout it out. Ask him my middle name and he'll have to think a minute and then guess. So this is my passive aggressive way of venting my frustrations about Mr. Gay Gay Husband.

It's not like I can actually argue with him. He just yells and screams then falls asleep. Did I mention he's a gay narcaleptic? He's in love witht the TV. He loves to gaze longingly into it's eye for hours at a time. He gets very upset if anyone comes between him and his precious TV. If I made him choose between me or TV in our house, I'm sorry to say that I would loose.

The long hours of brain melting TV watching have leeched away so many braincells I am sure he will be a farting, burping vegtable any day now. Now don't take this loving review of my husband's bad habbits to heart. Don't call me and ask if we're alright, or are you wanting a divorce? Think about it for a second, what right minded wife doesn't want a divorce from time to time? Doesn't mean I really want to be rid of him, I just want to be mad at him for a while. And if you've never had these same type of frustrated feelings about your husband or wife, well then you haven't really been married, have you?

Isn't it supposed to be healthier to "let it out" when dealing with feelings of frustration and anger instead of letting it drive you nuts? That is all I am trying to do, it's cheaper than therapy you know? So, I will get on here and rant and rave about my stupid gay husband all I want, afterall it is "My"space.

Be forewarned, I am moody, very bitchy and not likely to take crap from anyone these days. Nausea and vomiting kind of make me that way. While doing my daily worship to the porcelin god out pours my filter, the thing that keeps me from saying what I really think. Also, out goes lots of my patience. All of the ice around me is thin, so move cautiously.

Mr. Gay Gay Husband has not read the warning signs. He has not paid attention to the flashing caution lights. He just skates right on over and does a big gay tripple sow cow and lands right on my thin ice. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. I don't think I am particularly scorned, just fed up and pissed off at his inability to show love, care, or concern. I know I have waxed poetic about his strong silent nature but that was a different day. When I feel bad, I am a miserable person to deal with. It's very easy to get around this bitchiness though. Much the same way natives would offer up sacrifes to angry gods, throw in a "how're you feeling" or an "I love you" once in a while. This might keep the bubbling fires of the volcano settled.

Morning musings

Tomorrow is my baby's birthday. So much has happened in two years. Two be came three. Lets hope three can become four. Turner changed Brad and I, all in good ways. Brad, my tough man, now has a softer side. He gets to be a kid again. Sometimes it feels like I have two boys instead of one. I have to break up fights, nag at both of them to pick up behind themselves, you know the stuff moms do.

Turner has turned into his own little person. He has clear likes and dislkes, even if I don't always know what they are. He acts more like his father everyday. This is usually a good thing. They love each other. Turner now screams "My Papa" if I try to sit in Brad's lap. I am still "My Mommy" but he's prefering Papa more everyday. I am lucky that "My Husband" is such a great father. The two don't always go hand in hand. Brad is patient and doesn't see Turner as a chore or burden, but as his buddy and his blessing.

Brad has been great the past couple weeks. I have been a little under the weather. He has pitched in around the house and helped so much. When I am cruddy feeling I wish that our families were a little closer, but they are not so we make do.

I am watching Turner move my file box up to the bookshelf and climb up to get his markers. When did the feat become possible? Probably around the same time speaking in sentences and picking out his own clothes happened. Scary how fast time flies once you have a child. One minute you are holding a sweet smelling newborn, the next minute they are walking, then telling you "No I don't want oatmeal".

I wonder if people with out kids realize how slowly time marches on? I didn't realize it before I had Turner. Now I am keenly aware of how it races by. He is bigger everyday. He knows new words or senteces and asks new questions everyday. My heart grows bigger with love for him everyday.

Brad and I are still growing too. I'm lucky that being parents together suits us. I try to be more patient with him and I think that goes both ways. My mom and dad stayed with us and thought that we bickered, a lot like my aunt and uncle do. I told this to Brad and he had the same reaction I did " What are they talking about? We never argue." I thought it was funny. We don't argue often but we do disagree. We are such different personalities it would be hard for us to live in the same house much less the same state if we tried to agree on every little thing. I guess we do bicker, but that's the way I like it.