Dear Friend at Daycare,
I just wanted to personally thank you for finding my onesie!! It was such a joy to be able to wear it again today. I’ve included a picture of me happily wearing it.
I owe you a bottle of breast milk or formula…whichever you prefer. Enjoy the weekend, and I’ll see you at daycare next week!
Cheers,
Sawyer
P.S. Did you enjoy wearing my onesie this past month? 😉
Side note: Sawyer returns to daycare on 9/6/16 after this holiday weekend, and I am truly hoping that the Daycare Director will allow us to post this in his room. Keep your fingers crossed that this works and he gets to wear this onesie again before he outgrows it!
Date Posted: 9/6/16
Reward: Me not stalking you and your child. Just kidding...$10.00!
Please contact me at larisa.nicole@gmail.com to schedule an anonymous drop-off location.
THANK YOU!!
We're on a tight budget, like most people in America (and if you aren't, you should know that you are in the minority...and we are always accepting donations). We work full-time jobs, pay our bills on time, try to not spend our money on unnecessary stupid shit, and eat at home a lot. It's a good thing I love cooking, or we'd be screwed.
I came up with a few other great ideas for saving money:
1. Drive your therapist crazy enough that she moves out of state so you don't have therapy for a few weeks. That saves you money immediately.
2. Start brewing beer at home. Sure, you'll need to purchase the ingredients, a few items, and there will be experimentation with the first few batches, but in the long run we'll save money and enjoy some great home brews! I hope.
3. Start making hard cider at home. Sawyer is helping me with this. Something about how he wants to take a bottle of hard cider to each of his teachers at daycare. I told him usually it's an apple, and he is arguing that it should be multiple fermented apples for each of them. He might not have any of my genes, but he sure as hell as my ability to argue and make a good point.
Sawyer is helping me make hard cider!
4. Make bread at home. 'Nuf said.
5. Join a local CSA. This is good for a number of reasons: you get a chance to support a local farmer; you get fresh vegetables at a cheaper price then in the grocery store; you get to try some new vegetables and fruit (I had no idea there were that many different types of melons!); you are occasionally given caterpillars when you receive ears of corn that you can then add to your garden and they eat what few strawberries you had left; and you have the joy of weekly trying to figure out different dishes to include squash and eggplant in without your wife realizing it until after she has eaten the dish.
6. Try to convince your wife to drop the NFL network, but then realize that if she drops it she'll be very sad on Sundays, and it'll be my fault. So, let her keep the NFL network, and instead drink more tea--it's cheaper then coffee. Sure, I might be the cranky one on Sunday's, but I'm sure everyone is use to me being cranky.
7. Put Lincoln on a diet. FYI: he is NOT happy about this.
8. Dessert...yep, melons from the CSA box will be our dessert from here on out.
9. Put Sawyer on a 1,000kcal/day intake...oh wait, that would be poor parenting since he is growing CONSTANTLY. Never mind. I'll go on a 1,000kcal/day diet.
10. Try to reuse bags you already own for daycare, and then inform Blue Bag that he was fired and recycle two new bags from our drawers to use. If these two new bags (4-Pack and Polka) fail, then we have to actually spend money and purchase new bags. 😕 (Check out my Sent Home blog for clarification.)
11. Call the fertility doctor's office where you went for your wife's IVF and offer to sell them YOUR eggs (or sperm, if you're into that sorta thing).
I'm sure there are more ways that I will find for us to save money. I'll list those when they come to me.
Holy hell...I need a coffee.
You failed daycare, Blue Bag. You have served me well for 12 years, yet you failed our son at daycare.
We are sorry to inform you that Blue Bag only survived one week of daycare. Unfortunately, on Friday, he was sent home because apparently the Director felt that he didn't fit in...or...Sawyer's things couldn't fit into Blue Bag. We were informed that we needed to provide TWO bags for Sawyer. One to bring his bottles home in, and the other for soiled laundry (apparently both are not allowed to leave daycare in Blue Bag at the same time because...actually...the explanation wasn't a good one, so let's move on).
Dana had the brilliant idea of providing the beer bottle bag from Whole Foods for Sawyer's bottles. Her suggestion is much better then mine because I was just going to start sending him to daycare with flasks and only wearing a diaper.
On that note, I'd like to introduce you to Sawyer's two new daycare bags! Drumroll please...
Introducing, 4-Pack and Polka Bags! We're hoping these two survive longer then one week at daycare...or else we'll actually have to go and buy bags. 😐
You're welcome daycare!
P.S. Unfortunately, our son's Chicago Flag onesie was accidentally placed in another child's bag (or Blue Bag misplaced it), and if possible, we would like that returned. There are only eight infants in that room, which means I can easily start to stalk the other infants outside of daycare to see who starts wearing a Chicago onesie. Just kidding! Sorta...
Our son has attended and excelled (it's always a competition, right?) at three days of daycare, and he has started his fourth day today. Everyday I pick him up they give you his bottles, any soiled laundry, and a written report of when he peed, pooped, ate, slept, anything we need to bring for the next day, the number of attempts he made to escape daycare, and how many people he has recruited for his gang. (Apparently he has charmed one of the pre-schoolers into being his "muscle.") Yesterday I noticed again that he had not pooped at daycare, and shortly after I pick him up and we go home he has no problem dropping a load into his diaper for us to take care of. I get it. Everyone poops. However, I would appreciate the amount of money we are spending on daycare even more if he would poop AT DAYCARE. So, yesterday, in front of his teachers, I gave him the daily goal of pooping at daycare. I told him that it was okay to do, that we pay them to care for him and wipe his butt, and that he shouldn't be afraid to poop at daycare just because his other mother is afraid to poop at work. Sawyer rejected that goal at first, but then I bribed him with $1 per daycare poop.
Sawyer: "But I don't want to poop at daycare!"
Me: "I will pay you $1 for every poop you make at daycare."
Sawyer: "Deal."
I must say, he is quite the expressive child.
Sawyer's bags are packed! And yes, that is a bag with his name stitched into it...and to be honest, both bags have his name stitched on them.
Sawyer's first day of daycare was today. We packed up his bags last night since we knew the morning would be a shit storm. I noticed two spoons on top of one of his bags and just had to ask him why he needed such large spoons, especially since his only food intake at daycare will be formula from a bottle (for now...next week we'll order him a pizza from Azzurros). He insisted that they were necessary for digging a tunnel to escape from daycare. Apparently he wanted to pack the pickaxe, but since we broke it last year digging up roots that extended to China from the smallest bush in NorCal, obviously he could not take that. I'm sure some dumpster diver is using the head of our old pickaxe as a door stopper, a paperweight or a toothpick.
At 6:32AM, Dana's sister, Laura, sent a text wishing Sawyer good luck on his first day--very thoughtful. And since I started work before the sun even knew it was the next day, Dana dropped him off at daycare around 7:30AM. At 7:56AM, my mother-in-law, Susan, asked how it went when Dana dropped him off. (You should know that if any Sabin is up before 9AM and they do not have to be at work, then something is truly troubling them enough to wake them up...and that is MAJOR.) Dana sent a pic as proof that she got him there, and that calmed everyone down for as long as it took me to drink a mug of coffee.
At 9:54AM we got a text from the Director with a picture of him lying happily in a crib DURING DAYLIGHT HOURS. That can't be. He must have been drugged, because our son hates his crib at home except for when he is sleeping at night. "Sun's up I'm up!" he always says. This daycare has some trickery I tell you.
Holy hell...he lost part of his arm!
Anywho...I really wanted to attach a GoPro camera to his onesie so I could see everything that went on in his room, and to make sure he is doing okay, but Dana said no. She never seems to appreciate the geniusness behind my ideas...and something else about how we have to save money for daycare.
At 3:00PM I located our son amongst the other bald ones and I packed him up. (Thank goodness the teachers in his room have hair, or I might have picked one of them up!) The Director walked us out, and we were feeling well taken care of. She asked Sawyer if he had a good time, and he decided to inform her that he loved it, and had started a gang. She...sorta laughed, but little does she know that when we arrived home and I changed him, I found a shank under his onesie.
Once I got him into the car I took a picture as proof that he was still alive. Whew!
Dana returned to work today. It's her first day back since they yanked Sawyer from her on April 29th. He turned 15-weeks old today...this seems a bit early to pass him over to someone else for an 8-hour stretch, but luckily he is being watched closely by Grandma, Grandpa, Lincoln and Milo. I know they are all going to have a wonderful time together, especially when nap time occurs and David is able to chug two macchiatos down before Sawyer wakes up 22 minutes later...and when David and Susan nap, then Sawyer will chug two macchiatos...
"Here I come Grandma and Grandpa!"--Sawyer
Since Dana has to work again next week...the week after that...the week after that...and, well, for the rest of the school year, Sawyer will be starting daycare on Monday. Apparently Grandma and Grandpa don't want to babysit five days each week. Something about work, Pilates, yoga, and wanting a life. Hmmmm...do they realize they will only be on this earth for so long to enjoy his beautiful soul? Ah well.
Anyways, the list of supplies we got from daycare that Sawyer needs to take is ridiculously long. You would think that your child would need to take diapers, bottles, a few change of clothes, etc., but nope...there is a shit ton more that is needed. It looks like he will be moving into daycare, and I need to schedule movers and a truck. We had a meeting with the director on Wednesday, and I just couldn't help myself...as usual. I commented on the length of the list of supplies, that I'm surprised we need to practically pack up his room daily, and I questioned her if we also need to supply the teacher, but that was a supply they forgot on the list? She...sorta laughed, and proceeded to tell us that some of the supplies will be dropped off once a week, and when they need to be changed out, they'll send them home. I feel that this relationship with the daycare will only be great for two reasons:
(1) They take SUPERB care of our son, and that he's happy, and
(2) Everyone of those teachers and the director get my sense of humor and laugh at my jokes.
He's here! He's queer! Get use to it! Actually, we have no idea if he is queer, but one thing we do know is that our son, Sawyer, is freakin' adorable, and a wonderful, easy going baby who is fairly quiet and very precocious. There is just one thing that I feel the need to throw out there into the universe to see if anyone else has gone through this with their newborn. I mentioned he is quiet...but that is when he's AWAKE. When he's sleeping, he not only sounds like a baby goat...but more like a possessed baby goat. It is amazing the various sounds he makes while he snoozes. I had no idea Z's could be so loud! I mean, the little bugger keeps us AWAKE at night not because he's crying, but because he is sleeping! Everyone tells new parents, "sleep when he sleeps." Great, except for us we feel the need to do the opposite. When he's awake, he lies there quietly, looking around at everything. He moves his arms and legs instead of his vocal chords to show his excitement over some shadow, a tree, etc., and as much as we are enjoying watching him enjoy life, we are starting to feel that we should sleep during his awake hours, and then stay awake during his sleeping hours. This plan would also put US back on our regular sleep schedule. We'd be awake while he sleeps during the day (he's a vampire in-training) , and then when he's lying awake at night, eerily watching us and the ceiling fan, we would be sleeping.
So, my question for you parents who have been trained by your child(ren) already, is this normal? Did you choose to sleep when your child(ren) was awake and enjoying life quietly? Is there a way to get him to sleep quietly instead of like a stifled fog horn? For you doctors, is he broken? Oh I hope not, but he's so young right now that if something needs fixin', there's a possibility he won't remember it. Okay, I am getting ahead of myself...perhaps it's my lack of Z's...
5/2/16
Hi Everyone,
Sawyer here. First of all folks, I would just like to say thank you for bringing me into this world, and for teaching my Mommies how to keep me alive. You’d think it’d be instinctual…
I would like to thank Dr. Voss for making a beautiful lower abdominal transverse incision on my Mommy (yes, I listened to everything you were saying during the procedure) and for pushing and pulling in order to bring me out of her and my old, warm, easy nutrition attaining home. I shall miss that home, but this living situation is looking up.
To Dr. Flores who did my circumcision this morning. Oye vey. You might have tricked me into this procedure with oral dextrose and lidocaine, but damn woman…that shit wore off and my penis hurts like the dickens. Nice cut, but…damn.
To Jana who met my Mommies in the conference room for a birthing class on 4/17/16 and continued to look after us during our stay. I like you—come visit! Your positive energy just makes me smile, and the mommy/baby sleeping strategy story will stay between you and me. We also just feel the need to invite you to all of our family holidays…outings…our family pictures…and I plan on buying you a puppy. Male or female?
Cara—I’m sorry my other Mommy yelled at you the first night. She has a tendency of being protective of me and Mommy…and of Lincoln, my four-legged older canine brother whom I will be meeting tomorrow. We’ll see you in the boxing ring? Just kidding—all is good!
To Jaime and Karen. I never experienced your nursing care one-on-one over in postpartum…as you like to call it…but you’re beautiful and so freaking hilarious—let’s hang out!
To Stephanie. OMG. If it wasn’t for your skill, knowledge, leadership and desire to “try something crazy,” with boobies and breast feeding, I COULD HAVE DIED FROM STARVATION. Thank you for telling them what to do so I could get back to my fighting weight/birth weight. When do you come and live with us? Will you be my personal nurse and chef? You’ve got skills woman…
Brenda! You took excellent care of us in the evenings, but for some odd reason last night you felt the need to prick my heel just to give the state splotches of my blood multiple times, and for the Hep B vaccine. Let’s not do that again please. But because of you, I will not die from Hep B…and I now wear a heel cup.
Tammy. Tammy…Tammy…Tammy. I’ve already tracked you down on Facebook and I have started stalking you. May I have your home address? I hear Über is starting to drive babies around without parental supervision and I would LOVE to come over and spend more time with you. See you in two weeks?
To Julie who told my Mommies that they are doing great and are independent. Stop filling their heads with lies!! We know you carried them through the night. Take some credit woman!
To Lorena. We didn’t get to spend much time together, but between you and Mary Beth, that day was a blast—lots of laughs! And to the woman who gave me my first bath. My Mommies’ hair product is Bb Curl Conscious Curl Defining Crème.
To Merilee who went in with us into the the operating room and who kept my Mommies sane—thank you!! Your calm presence was a welcome!
To Maria, I don’t understand why she sometimes didn’t eat her food either, but I agree with you…perhaps that was why her BP was sometimes high?
To Becky, who I had a diaper blow-out on my first night and you were forced to change your shirt. Please send us a bill for your dry cleaning—Grandpa will pay it. You did a marvelous job caring for my mommy after her surgery by doping her up (legally of course), keeping her comfortable with her catheter, and giving her a break with the lower extremity compression cuffs so she could sleep in between my crying fits. (Good God the night is scary!)
Dr. Santucci! I like you. Your positivity and patience puts me at ease, and I look forward to you treating me for the next 18 years…and don’t leave the Tamalpais practice, nor die before I turn 18 because I’m going to come to you for advice on everything….male-related. Between you and my Godfather Jesse, I expect to know all the things these two women do not know…how to pee standing up…what to do with extra socks and tissues…all that jazz.
To Carmen…you are great! I shall miss seeing your smiling face, and to Adel whom I met in the operating room, and who did my measurements—thank you for the extra inches on my length! The NBA is already scouting me.
To Patrick, the Hospital’s Pediatrician who checked me out in the operating room, confirmed I was a boy, and let my Mommy do the vaginal swabbing…ewwwwww. You’re laid back and damn good at your job. If Dr. Santucci leaves the Tamalpais practice or dies before I turn 18 y.o., will you be my pediatrician?
Jordan! You started the first night with us, removed my Mommy’s boxing gloves, and continued to check on us and treat us wonderfully. I’m sorry my other Mommy dropped the soap in the shower and you had to see that. That vision is just hard to forget…am I right? You know…now that I’m thinking of it…let’s refer to my Birth Mommy as BM and to my other Mommy as OM…spread the word.
Lactation nurses! Thank you for your guidance, for slightly confusing my Mothers with a million breast feeding options, but for sticking with us, and encouraging my Mommies to keep going and getting me to latch.
To anyone else I forgot to thank—you rock!! We chose Marin General Hospital instead of the Napa Valley hospitals (we won’t name them…everyone knows who they are) because of your baby and family friendly atmosphere, kick-ass staff, excellent view of Mt. Tam, and because I really wanted to see the construction guys to their thang after I was born. It was interesting watching them tear that building down and seeing guys in hard hats just outside my East 4th Floor window daily…you made me feel like I was the only infant in L & D during my stay.
I shall miss you all, but I plan on visiting…hopefully for a drive-by, drop-in visit…not because I’m being admitted as a patient due to my Mommies fucking something up. Oh, and before I return, someone PLEASE tell the CEO of MGH to get some softer toilet paper and tissues in this place. Feel free to tell him I said so, and that I’m wondering if HE would wipe with this sandpaper hemorrhage causing shit,
Love,
Sawyer Henry Stephenson-Sabin
P.S. My name is so fucking long it should be Sawyer Henry Stephenson-Sabin, III (the third). I’m not named after anyone, but it sounds bad-ass, am I right?
Ugh. It’s such a pain in the ass dealing with the constant highs and lows of fertility doctor visits. Five months into Dana’s pregnancy we started the IVF process for me. Not to get me pregnant pronto, but to withdraw and fertilize my eggs in order to freeze my embryos for use at a later date…or to sell on the black market. Almost 4 months later, we are still trying to withdraw my eggs so we can fertilize them. It’s like the chicken has flown the coop and refuses to lay eggs anymore. My ovaries were just fine until we started screwing with them with these IVF drugs. Now, instead of producing eggs, my nether regions are developing ovarian cysts. Which is what led me to this past Wednesday’s fertility doctor’s visit, and the second appointment for aspirating TWO MORE cysts (we aspirated the first one a few weeks ago). Lucky me.
I choose to do the aspiration procedure without anesthesia because my body loathes anesthesia more then the IVF drugs. Honestly, the pain isn’t overwhelming. It’s just…well, being in that position while you’re fully coherent of your surroundings, and a needle longer then my tibia is being inserted vaginally…you get the picture. And what does my dumb ass do to tolerate the elephant in the operating room? I crack jokes, the physician and assistant laugh, which then causes the ultrasound head and tibia-length needle to move inside of me…which doesn’t feel so well.
The baseline measurements from my blood work that day and in the follow-up appointment on Friday still showed that my estrogen levels were too high, thereby keeping me on the antagonist injections. On Monday they will withdraw blood again to get my levels, and if they are where they should be, then I start another set of injections to trick my body into producing a shit-ton of eggs all at once, that we will then withdraw to make babies with at a TBD date. If the levels are still wacky, then I’m postponing this whole step in our lives until later this year in order for my body’s hormone levels to return to normal. This is my life…this is my decision…and quite frankly, I feel like the doctors and assistants in the fertility office have seen my vagina enough lately to the point that they probably have every nook and cranny memorized.
The Birth Plan
Written by: Larisa Stephenson
Critiqued and Criticized by: Dana Sabin
Dana: "I want an epidural as soon as possible."
No narcotics.
No episiotomy…yep…no…nope…not happening…never ever…eh eh…no.
Monitor Dana closely to make sure her uterus doesn't rupture during this whole process.
If our OBGYN isn't present for the delivery we want the OBGYN doing the delivery to know in detail about Dana's fibroid surgery.
Dana wants me (Larisa) to pass her the baby right after delivery, but not before I "Run around the hospital to everyone present on that floor holding our son over my head with a nurse running behind me holding a CD player that is playing the music to the Lion King."
We want skin-to-skin contact for Dana and Larisa because both mothers plan on breastfeeding (we know, an AMAZING idea, "thank you," now be cognizant of it and make sure the nurse and lactation specialist pay attention to the four nipples the child is suppose to be clinging to with his gummy mouth).
When placing our son immediately on Dana for skin-to-skin contact, please ignore Dana's cleanliness freak-out that she will immediately have when she feels his slimy presence on her. She has this thing with germs, but ignore it, tell her it will be ok, and please do not clean him right away, nor do the eye drop antibiotics, nor injections and suctioning his nostrils and mouth until we agree. Let's just let him and us enjoy his first time out of the womb please.
Don't expose Dana's, nor my breasts, to Susan (Dana's mother), but feel free to videotape and take pictures of us breastfeeding and posting that to YouTube so the whole world can see our breasts. Just kidding Asshole, think!!!!!
NO VACUUMING OF OUR SON! If you have trouble getting him to leave his current home, show him a $100 bill and then if he doesn't mosey his way down the vaginal canal, stick your hands in there (why else are we paying you the big bucks) to grab him by his left ear, and pull him out, or use forceps, you lazy...never mind.
Larisa needs a runner to deliver her a tall coffee with milk from the local Starbucks every 90 minutes or else she starts nibbling and ankle biting anyone that pisses her off or fails to take supremely good care of her wife.
The peeps we want present in the delivery room: The two of us, and Dana's mother, Susan Sabin (until she drives Larisa crazy because she can't pick a restaurant to have food delivered to the hospital from, or continuously tells us how we have already failed at motherhood because we don't have a changing table in our house, or brings up anything Abraham related, or tries to take over Larisa's position and ignores the fact that she is the other Mother). After the birth, David Sabin, Laura Sabin, Nate, Tawnya, Kaiden & Kennedy Dorn, and Jesse, Shilah and Julien Salmon can come into the room. Everyone else has to be announced via a nurse using a small cornet, and rolling out the red carpet for those who want to enter (but they have to pay the nurse a $20 fee for passage and give our child $1,000 if they want to see him in the hospital).
No doula needed (that’s just another person I’ll have to yell at, and I’m sure there is already going to be plenty…which means that’s also a lot of people I have to apologize to afterwards).
My god, let her walk if she wants to, lie in bed if she wants to, shower if she wants to, ski and run if she wants to, but feel fee to tell Dana she is being weird if you think so.
Activities we might want to participate in while hanging out at Marin General Hospital: chess, bouldering, skiing, mountain running, Cards Against Humanity, paint ball...whatever we desire and what insurance will pay for.
Yes to fetal monitoring, and after he is born, Dana will need to have a stethoscope so she can listen to his heart beat every three minutes just to make sure he is alive, even if he is breastfeeding at the moment, wailing, sleeping, staring at us creepily and wondering why he was "blessed" with us as parents...she just needs to hear his heart beat to know he is alive. You might as well provide a small mirror so she can hold it under his nose to make sure he is also still breathing.
If a cesarean is absolutely necessary, DON'T FUCK UP. If our OBGYN is performing the cesarean, we are not worried…well, maybe a teensy, weensy bit.
Dana has no positive thinking, and therefore no power of positive thinking, so please bring in a local non-religious choir to chant relaxing music, the Dalai Lama to meditate for her, and the local reformed Rabbi to declare, "It's a boy!" (said with an old Man's Jewish accent).
We want to avoid antibiotics!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! If you say we need them, test first to see if we ACTUALLY need them. We prefer treatment, not prophylaxis. We would like to keep the good bacteria and maintain the baby's and Dana's gut microbiomes please.
The End.
P.S. Thank you for keeping Dana safe, for delivering our child safely, and for putting up with me.
“Eeny, meeny, miny, mo
Catch a tiger by the toe
If he hollers, let him go
Eeny, meeny, miny, mo.”
People keep asking us how we decided that Dana would be the one to get pregnant. I feel the need to point out to those inquirers that she already has the breasts and the hips, so it was an obvious choice. For some odd reason, no one accepts that explanation. Fine. I'll give you a few more: you can flip a coin; both try to get pregnant at the same time and see who fates strikes; perhaps one is interested and the other immediately gets the short end of the pregnancy test stick; or in our case (and this is the truth, because it always takes a few cracks from me before I am truly honest...or so my therapist tells me), your wife sits down, does the math, and determines that it will be cheaper if she is the one to get pregnant. Oye vey. That is the most calculated decision I have ever been involved in.
Once it was decided that she would be the one to stretch out her body, we scheduled an appointment with a fertility doctor and started the long, expensive, never-ending, and invasive process of trying to turn her into an incubator. She is now 31 weeks pregnant, we are still preparing for this little Wiggler to fall into our laps (that's how it happens, right?) and I cried, told her we should have a second child via my uterus, and got her to agree without using a calculator. It was a freakin' miracle folks.
I have been trying to start the IVF procedure since January, but my body is being...uncooperative. I should have expected this. I rarely cooperate with others, so why would my body cooperate with IVF? Now it looks like my IVF procedure might overlap with the birth of our son, and I'm hopeful that accomplishing these two feats at the same time will reinforce that we are going to be phenomenal Mommies that can juggle a lot and come out on top with our kids and Lincoln in-tow.
Beer. Tahoe. The End.
Holy Hell...I only have Dana as a DD for another 16 weeks. (And for those of you in AA, DD does not stand for Dunkin Donuts...except for on Sunday mornings.) DD, for those who know how to control their intake of alcohol know, is for Drunken Driver...I mean Designated Driver. It is literally the best thing about your wife being pregnant...besides her boobs getting bigger, but since you're not allowed to touch them for some odd damn reason, it makes her being the DD better then her huge boobs. And since she will most likely be reading this blog post, I will no longer mention how enormous her boobs have gotten.
16 weeks. Shit...besides going to taste Pliny the Younger, I have no other plans for her driving us home after I've had a few drinks. I need to seriously think about this and schedule dinners with friends. So much to plan!! And no, I am not an alcoholic, unless you think consuming 1-3 alcoholic drinks PER WEEK is the new definition of alcoholism. It's seriously under-consumption and it makes me a cheap date. However, I do drink copious amounts of coffee and tea each week. The monthly spending for my caffeine drinks go right up there with what I spend on therapy.
Our friend is coming to our house for dinner tonight. I absolutely love cooking and having friends over for dinner, but WTF Larisa? We should be going out to eat so I can have Dana, my own personal DD, drive me home. It's a good thing it's a school night and I have to be up at 5am or else I would be moving dinner from our house to a restaurant that is not within walking distance of our lovely home.
You all enjoy your evening now folks, while I walk from the kitchen, to the bathroom, and then into bed since I do not need a DD this evening.
Dana wants me to take over the budget for one month so I can see how much money I spend. Apparently I'm spending too much money on therapy...and books...and coffee. In my defense though, all three of those purchases make me a more likable person. Anyone want to donate so I'm not such an asshole to you? Please message me at the end of this post.
I hate paying bills, and I have no desire to do any more math then necessary, so I countered her offer/threat of me doing the budget for one month with an offer that I had a 99.9% chance of her refusing. Let me set the room for you. We're sitting on the couch and she's explaining to me while holding me...some would think she was restraining me, but really she was comforting me...that I apparently do not need to have a 50 min therapy session on Monday when I just had a 100 min therapy session on Friday. She said I'm a great person and that I should spread therapy out by 7-10 days. I said I might be a great person, but I don't always FEEL like a great person. I reminded her that I needed to take a bath and shave my legs for the start of the week. (I'm in running shorts everyday because I refuse to wear tight pants, tight capris...anything that doesn't require me to shave my legs and is suppose to hide my cellulite/cottage cheese, and make everyone want to follow me around the room because my ass is emphasized. My God...what a rant. Bottom line: I hate tight clothing.) That's when the brilliant counter offer came to me. I lifted my leg into the air as if I actually had the flexibility of a dancer, acted like I was shaving my leg, and said, "Honey, I'll do the budget for one month if you take a bath with me ONCE, while I'm shaving my legs."
It worked. Baths freak her out (according to Dana, "You're sitting in your own filth."), and I knew she would definitely say no to taking a bath with me while my leg hairs, her filth, and my filth were enveloping and slowly drowning her.
I win.
I tried to post a picture of Dana reading her iPhone at night, but she refused and said I need to stop "mining" her for pictures and stories. Such love she has for me.
Bedtime is between 8 and 8:30pm often for me with the alarm stirring me at 3:30AM Monday thru Friday. Yes, that's a crazy, insane time to wake up (unless your'e a baker, ER doc, an angel...), but when you have bills to pay, you wake up, get ready, make loads of coffee and tea, and head to work. Besides, the blessing is getting to see the sunrise 5 days each week, the sunset 7 days each week, and payday. Yep. Payday.
Dana doesn't have to be in bed that early, but often she'll crawl into bed with me and start reading articles on her iPhone. Falling asleep with a blue light in your wife's face is like falling asleep in a movie theatre. My mother-in-law and mother might be able to do it, but the light keeps me awake. So, I'm adjusting, and trying to learn to sleep with it. I've gotten much better, but last night I did not sleep well, and kept waking up. Finally, when I rolled over and she was STILL reading her iPhone after 1AM I told her that was enough reading and that I needed her to fall asleep and spoon me. Within a few minutes she did, thankfully, and I fell asleep for the rest of the night (what was left of it).
Of course, being the person that I am, I told one of my clients this afternoon about it. Dana was in the gym, so I know it was ok to share this story, but EVERY DAY, even when Dana is not in the gym, I am sharing our life stories. It's a way to keep my clients entertained while I'm torturing them. The client today described Dana reading her iPhone in bed at night as if it's her own personal blue light night club. I agreed. If we were in a night club I wouldn't be able to sleep either. Perhaps this means Dana will go to sleep with me at an earlier hour so I can get my beauty sleep. We all know I need beauty.
Shhhh...don't tell Dana, but I took a picture of her last night while I was lying awake in bed to the blue light illuminating our bedroom.
"The mountains are calling and I must go."--John Muir
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