Hubby: I don’t know why you’re so tired. I let you sleep in. Me: *laughs hysterically*

Every weekend my husband gets up in the morning with our daughter so I can sleep in. Even pre-hummingbird, he would be an early riser (okay, get your mind out of the gutter), he is a military man after all. I, on the other hand, am a night owl and the weekends are when I can catch up on all of the sleep I missed during the week.

I like having a few hours to myself at night so I can read or just have some quiet time to myself. Usually I read in bed but with my hubby’s insanely loud snoring, it can be difficult to concentrate. I could easily go downstairs but I’ll end up watching television. Then one show leads to another and I’ll think “hmmm, I could use a midnight snack”.

That “snack” turns into stuffing my face, the couple of shows leads to several and before I know it, it’s 2 am and I’m watching a magic bullet infomercial that I’ve already seen a hundred times. 

For those of you who don’t know, the magic bullet, surprisingly, isn’t a vibrator although that would be an awesome name for one, it’s a blender type thing.

So, yeah, I really need to stay in bed to avoid all of that despite the snoring monster that’s laying next to me. (Btw, he still hasn’t gotten his results from his sleep study and it’s been over 5 weeks now. ugh!)

When I go to sleep at night, it takes me a good hour or so before I can fall asleep. If I’m really exhausted, it takes me half that time. If I get woken up, I can usually go back to sleep within a few minutes if I don’t open my eyes or have to play 20 questions with a certain someone, ahem. When my hubby goes to bed, he’s asleep just a few minutes after his head hits the pillow.

Okay, focus! So this is what happens every Saturday and Sunday when my hubby let’s me “sleep in”.

My daughter usually wakes up around 6:45-7 am. On the weekends it isn’t my little girl who wakes me up though. I’m woken up by my hubby getting his metal water bottle off of his night stand or checking the baby monitor to see if the little hummingbird is awake. Apparently, her babbling and yelling coming from her room isn’t enough proof that she’s awake.

When he goes to grab the monitor or his water bottle, it causes an avalanche of all the other crap that’s on his night stand and I’m woken up to the clanging and thumps of things crashing to the floor. He gets up out of bed and ends up throwing the blankets off of me. I have to sit up and grab them so I don’t freeze my bum off.

Even though this happens every weekend, I actually think I’ll be able to go back to sleep. Bwahahahaha!

I’m usually wide awake by this time but I refuse to admit defeat and I’ll lay there with my eyes closed, hoping I’ll fall back asleep. Just as I’ll be drifting off, my husband will open the bedroom door and riffle through his dresser for clothes. I’m wide awake again.

As I’m drifting off to sleep for a third time, he’ll come in for something else and at this point I want to strangle him. Usually our little girl will be in the living room watching her favorite cartoon.

I’ll drift off again and then my hubby will come in for a fourth time to tell me that he’s taking the little hummingbird out and he’ll ask if I want him to pick up some coffee. Then he’ll set my daughter down on the bed while I’m trying to wake from my sleepy fog to answer him. She’ll start climbing all over me, using me as her personal jungle gym and my head as a step stool.

Only after that will my hubby pick-up the little girl and tell her that they need to let mommy sleep. Ha! Then he’ll ask a few other things which really pulls me out of my sleepy fog and I’ll answer him. Several “Uhhh! I’m trying to sleep.” will be immersed in my reply. If my daughter wasn’t in the room, there would be some very choice words mixed in.

He’ll leave the room and then a few seconds later come right back in asking something like “So, did you say you wanted coffee? I can’t remember.”

I’ll finally get settled and cozy in bed and wait for him to leave since our garage is right below the bedroom and it sounds like a jet rumbling through the bedroom when it’s opened. I’ll be waiting and waiting. I’ll hear him racing up the stairs for something while hoping he doesn’t come back into the bedroom. Finally, I’ll be feeling sleepy again and then BOOM, the garage door will bolt me back awake.

So much for sleeping in.

Later on in the day, usually while my daughter is taking a nap, I’ll be yawning and tell my husband that I could really use a nap. That’s when he’ll say “Why are you so tired? I let you sleep in. I’m the one that could use a nap since I didn’t get a chance to sleep in like you did.”

I should be grateful that he at least attempts to let me sleep. I know a lot of moms don’t even have their guys doing that but still, it’s times like this that I wish I had Dexter’s cell phone number.

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The fake accent.

On Thursday I had an electrocardiogram which was just routine. It’s something I get done every year because of heart surgery I had when I was younger. The appointment was at 5 pm and since I’m still on meds from the sinus surgery I recently had and don’t want to drive into a tree or pull a Charlie Sheen (I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean), my hubby drove me to the doctor’s office.

I was stressing out since they were running behind with appointments and my daughter’s dinnertime was approaching fast. She never needs to be reminded that it’s time for dinner and is like an alarm clock. A very loud, screeching, yelling, tantrum-prone alarm clock.

While sitting in the waiting room, watching the little hummingbird run around and counting down the minutes before her dinner bell went off, I started stressing more and that made me start worrying that all of my stress would screw with the results of the electrocardiogram which made me worry even more. Whew!

Finally the tech came into the waiting room and brought me back. She had a really thick southern accent and was very talky. That’s totally a word. After hearing about her life story in 60 seconds, she was asking me where I was from, if I have kids, etc. When I went to reply, out came a southern accent. From my mouth. The problem? I don’t have a southern accent.

At first, I was going to stop myself and mention to her that I don’t really have a southern accent and that hearing her talk must have brought it on. Then I thought that would make me sound like a mental case so I continued on with the accent because doing that is much more sane.

But I kept forgetting to talk with the accent so it would come and go. I felt like I was in that episode of Friends where Ross is teaching a class and starts talking with an English accent. Luckily, I only had to keep it up for about 10 minutes and then I was able to just shut my mouth while she did her ultrasound tech stuff.

While my hubby, the little hummingbird, and I were walking to the car, I was telling the hubs about what I had done. The problem? I was still talking with a southern accent and thought “Oh shit, maybe I’ve had this accent all along and I’m just now realizing it.”

I made the mistake of asking my husband if I’ve always had it and he looked at me like the crazy person I am, rolled his eyes, and said no. For the rest of the night the accent came and went. I’m blaming this on the meds but I know I’m just weird and this probably would have happened even if I wasn’t taking them. *le sigh*

*I’ve been in a lot of pain since my sinus surgery almost 2 weeks ago. I went back to Dr. Cool, my ENT doctor, today and he found a big blood clot that was blocking the opening he had made. He removed it with what I call the “ice pick probe from hell”. Ouch!

 I’m dedicating this post to The Last Girl Standing who encouraged me to write a post while I was all loopy after surgery because she’s awesome like that.  ;^) I’m just as medicated loopy now as I was after surgery. Today while I was lying in bed, feeling sorry for myself, and frustrated that I still feel so crappy, I came across this post from her. It really made my day. 

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What I’ve Learned From Watching Little House On The Prairie.

*Sidenote. I used to like Mary but then, um, hmmm, I don’t know where the love went. I’m citing irreconcilable differences.

Little House on the Prairie was one of my favorite shows growing up. Most of the episodes I saw were repeats since I was born in ’75 and didn’t start watching it until the early ’80′s. I still watch the show and it’s like comfort food for me, without the calories.

These are some things I’ve learned over the years since watching the show.

1. If I climb into my husband’s wagon and a loose wire scratches my leg, go see Doc Baker right away. Don’t send my family off on a little trip while I stay home and bake pies. I’ll end up loony from the infection I develop and the high fever I get. That will result in me becoming paranoid, locking the doors in my house, breaking a window when trying to get help (that window looks like it would be a real pain in the ass to fix), and ultimately thinking cutting my leg off is the best option.

2. Never, ever trust Nellie Oleson because she will play nice and invite me over to her house. Then, I’ll spill my guts out and talk about how I have a major crush on a boy. Being the douchette that Nellie is, she will secretly record this and then play it in front of the whole class, including the boy I have a crush on. Hello? I live in Walnut Grove. It’s not like I can just transfer to a different school to escape the embarrassment.

3. Mary will never grow out of her bitchy and pretentious ways. When Ma and Pa aren’t looking, strap her to something heavy and throw her in the creek. Wait, scratch that. Her body would mess up the water supply. I know! When the wild dogs come and ravage my farm and we’re stuck in the barn, push her outside. That way, the wild dogs will no longer want to kill me and Mary will be out of the picture. Problem solved!

4. Make sure to stay in touch with Olga, the little girl Pa made a special shoe for, because she will end up on The Real Housewives Of Beverly Hills. You need to be able to call her crazy ass and get the dirt on the passive-aggressive psycho that is Camille Grammer.

5. A racoon for a pet is a really dumb idea.

6. Almanzo is a cool guy and all but you should have joined Facebook so you could hunt down that hot handyman that Ma hired. The one that tested Ma and Pa’s marriage and had Mary get her undies in a wad.

7. Brace yourself. Pa can’t really play the violin but it will take you an embarrassing amount of years to figure that out. Actually, you will have only figured it out last year.

~~~

*Blog of the week: Don’t Worry Baby. I’ve been reading this blog since last year when Sara was in the early stages of pregnancy with her adorable daughter Sylvie, who was born in August. Sara is an artist and has an Etsy shop, Darling Lark, and does beautiful custom initial illustrations.

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Way too much information that you don’t want to know about me.

Last week, Lexy from Mammy Woo tagged me to write about 7 things people don’t know about me. If I didn’t do it, she will, and I quote “If you don’t you will be forced to listen to me drone on about poo for the next seven years!” hehe.

At first, I didn’t think I would be able to come up with anything since I tell you almost everything, possibly too much. Then I realized there’s actually quite a bit you don’t know. I’ve found that over the past several months, my anonymity has given me the freedom to reveal more than I expected.

I thought my revelations would be funny but while writing this, it took a different turn and most of it is dark and freaking depressing which is probably why I haven’t written about these things until now.

1. I have social anxiety. I usually say I’m shy but I actually have social anxiety. I’ve tried medication and even saw a few therapists to help with my irrational fears. Years ago it got so bad that I would get nervous when just going outside to check the mail. I also have panic attacks and take anti-anxiety meds.

I refuse to be on daily medication (SSRI’s). I tried those for several years and it just left me exhausted and feeling like a zombie. And you know how I feel about zombies. heh. It’s gotten somewhat better after I had my daughter but there are still plenty of times when I have to force myself to go out.

It doesn’t help my social anxiety when I’m out with my daughter and she has a tantrum, screams, and throws herself on the ground. Then again, I’m so busy with her that although I get embarrassed, after it’s over I realize even though all eyes are on me, it’s not the end of the world.

I get very nervous when it comes to doing things others don’t even give a second thought about, like going to the grocery store or eating at a restaurant. I really dread having to walk in front of a bunch of people in a crowd or a movie theatre (back when I used to go). I know my feelings are completely irrational but nevertheless, I still have them.

2. I’ve always wanted to be an actress. For as long as I can remember, I’ve always wanted to act. But not in the “I just want to be famous” way. I dreamed of moving to New York City and being a stage actress. Of course, I would have found the time to be in movies on the side while dating Johnny Depp and Eddie Vedder and winning an Oscar before I was 20. :^D

3. I was born with a congenital heart defect. I also have a heart murmur and when I was born, the prognosis was grim. The doctors didn’t think I’d have that long to live. But being the stubborn, pain in the ass that is me, here I am. I went through several surgical procedures and although my doctors wanted to do open heart surgery, they wanted to wait as long as possible until I was stronger.

I was on different medications for years and to this day, the smell of liquid penicillin makes my stomach turn because I took it so often. When I was five years old, the medication I was on for my heart wasn’t working as well as it should have, I was getting worse, and my doctors couldn’t wait any longer. They were actually able to make the incision from the back because I was so small. I’m thankful for that but wearing a bra is a pain since it always rubs up against my scar.

I eventually tired of people asking why there was a scar on my back so by the time I was a teenager, I would make up stories. Sometimes I would wear tank tops which would make my scar visible.

When my classmates would ask about my scar, my favorite thing to tell them was I got in a knife fight at some club on the Sunset Strip. That person’s eyes would get huge and they would totally fall for it. Then I would say I was just screwing with them and usually they would find it funny. Other times some of them would find the knife fight more believable than open heart surgery.

Whenever I go to the dentist, I have to take antibiotics and I also need yearly check-ups with a cardiologist that consists of an EKG and ultrasound or MRI. I’ve recently gone to a cardiologist for the first part of the check-up and I’m currently playing phone tag with the doctor so I can get the MRI done. I always worry that they’ll find something wrong.

4. I missed out on having a father/daughter relationship. My mom and biological father divorced before I was a year old. His mother was schizophrenic but when my mom met and fell in love with my bio dad (aka sperm donor), married him, and then had me, he seemed fine. Then on his 21st birthday, he literally went crazy.

He threw whatever he could carry out of the window of our second story apartment. He even dragged the fridge halfway across the apartment. All of the things in my room were left untouched. The next day while my mom was still in shock and my grandfather and his wife were over, my bio dad walked in with a man that he introduced as his new wife. Yeah, so…..

My mom married my stepdad (they divorced 8 years ago) when I was seven and my half-sister was born two years later. I tried to get along with my stepdad but it was difficult, especially after my sister was born. I always felt like I was in the way of them being a “perfect” family. Then I reconnected with my bio dad and things seemed to go downhill with my stepdad and I. He has a very gruff personality and it made things even more difficult.

Since we were fighting all of the time, I moved back to California to live with my sperm donor and stepmonster stepmother. My bio dad had (well, still has) this cycle. He would be on his meds for a little while, he would start drinking and drugging, he would stop his meds, then he would usually end up completely out of his mind and in a psych ward. Every time he got out, he promised me he would stay on his meds but the cycle would just start over.

I do have contact with my bio dad and I send him cards and updates on the little hummingbird but I actually haven’t called him since we moved, back in July. He’s been calling me and I plan on giving him a call soon but it takes awhile to work up the nerve.

I’m envious of those who have a good relationship with their fathers. It’s something I’ve wanted for so long but know I will never have. My stepdad and I are on much better terms but we’ll never be close. I get weepy happy when I see all of the love my husband gives our little girl. Seeing that helps heal my heart.

5. I was sexually assaulted. It happened when I was 15 years old but I didn’t tell anyone until I was 17. He was an acquaintance and I regret letting this man get away with it. It’s taken me years to work through it and I finally feel like I’ve found peace and closure.

6. I’m the Queen of useless information. At least that’s what my hubby thinks. I’m into celebrity gossip and know way more about celebrities than I should. I’ve gotten a little rusty since I’ve had my daughter so sometimes my mom will actually know something about a celeb before I do. Gasp!

7.  I’m absolutely terrified of spiders and snakes. I freak out when I see a spider. I’ll scream for my husband who will have no idea what’s going on. Then he’ll rush into the room and see it’s only a spider. Whenever I think about snakes, I instantly put my feet up. I used to still do have a fear that a snake will come out of the toilet and bite me on the bum.

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Stream of Consciousness Sunday: Recuperating and Loopy.

It’s that time again for Fadra’s Stream of Consciousness Sunday. I have 5 minutes to write and have to post this without proofreading or spellchecking. And go!

#SOCsundayI had my surgery on Tuesdsay and everything went well. The pain was a lot worse than I expected though. I hope some miracle happens by tomorrow because that’s when my husband goes back to work and I still don’t feel well enough to take care of a 21 month old who seems like she ate a bag of coffee beans and drank a case of red bull.

This week consisted of laying on my bum, watching movies, catching up with celeb gossib, and reading. I watched one of my current favorite movies, Julie & Julia, The Perfect Getaway with hottie Timothy Olyphant, and The Hole which despite the title, isn’t a porn. I’m also reading several books.

When I was younger and had all the time in the world, I would only read one book at a time but now I’m balancing a handful of books. I’ve been reading Stephen King’s latest, Full Dark, No Stars and I can’t say enough good things about this book. It’s amazing! It brings me hope that the literary world hasn’t completely gone mto crack after I heard Snooki actually published a book.

I’m reading a book about Julia Child and one about Marilyn Monroe but can’t think of the titles. I’m a Little house fan so I’m also reading Melissa Gilbert’s Prairie Life. There are a few others but the clock is ticking.

I couldn’t believe a few days ago when it was announced that Jesse James was engaged to Kat Von D. Then I read his statement, saying that 2010 was actually a great year because he met his best friend and she’s such an amazing person. Barf. I swear he said something similar when he was with Sandra Bullock.

I love Sandra and know she isn’t perfect, nobody is, but I don’t get what she saw in such a piece of trash (this is what happens when I’m stuck in bed reading TMZ  most of the week, hehe). I’m just amazed how some of these celebrities can go from one person to another so fast.

Crap, I know there was something else but times about to run out. Beep!

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Did someone say housekeeping…in the buff?

Since I haven’t been feeling well for quite awhile, my house is a wreck. Who am I kidding? Even if I was feeling okay, it would still be a wreck but it probably wouldn’t be teetering into Hoarders territory.

We’ve recently seen our cat so we know she’s not trapped under garbage….or worse. I’ve never been able to watch more than 10 minutes of Hoarders because by then my stomach is doing flip-flops and I’ll start getting nauseous.

I don’t get why these people have such a hard time throwing their crap out. By the way, I’m saying this as I stare across the bedroom, looking at a box our Christmas cards came in that I still haven’t got around to recycling and a moving box I have yet to unpack (okay, two). Pot meet kettle.

Since it was my birthday a few weeks ago, I just had surgery, and it would take us forever to clean our way out of our messy house, my hubby decided to treat me and he hired a maid to come on Monday.

Flashback to a week earlier. He was looking through the ads online for a maid and he came across one in particular. You may wonder how he could come across an ad like this but I was really stressed out and he knew I needed a laugh. Aaand he’s a weirdo but at least he’s my weirdo.

I was in the other room and he called me into the office saying he found the perfect housekeeper. When I sat down to read the ad, I was expecting something normal and this is what I read:

Nude Male House Cleaning

I’m 21 years old, handsome, impressively hung and I want to clean the home of a woman, man or couple fully nude, serve dinner to your guests, pour their wine. You and your guests are welcome to slap my ass as I bend over to wipe down the surfaces, wash your dishes, do your laundry or pick up some clutter on the floor. If you have any questions about my rates or services feel free to call or text me.

(I have pics available on my cellphone for serious replies, I look forward to hearing from you.)

As impressively hung as this guy’s ad was, we went with someone else. After she left, my hubby said “Damn, I forgot to ask if she’d let me smack her ass”. Yep, he’s all mine.

*Blog of the week: Rants From Cyberspace. She just started blogging about a week ago and I love what she writes. It doesn’t hurt that she’s written a few posts already about how she wants to strangle her husband. Haha! Make sure to check out her blog. She’s also a great person to follow on twitter. @RantsFromSpace.

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Guest Blogger: Jayne from Mum’s The Word. Expectations.

*Since I’m having surgery today and will be recovering for the next several days, I asked Jayne from Mum’s The Word if she would do another guest post. If you haven’t checked out her blog yet, run on over there.

Expectations

I think I can safely say that my expectations of parenthood, from the moment I found out that I was to become a Mum, right up to the trials and tribulations of caring for a toddler, have been completely shattered by the actual reality of it all.

I found out that I was pregnant because I was suffering from such severe morning sickness that my perpetual vomiting caused me to tear a hole in my oesophagus. That was the start of an increasingly difficult pregnancy, during which I developed diabetes, SPD, polyhydramnia and a multitude of other delightful conditions.

There was no pregnancy glow for me (unless you count sweat on my brow and vomit on my bottom lip). No one ever told me that pregnancy suited me, or that I exuded any sort of nurturing serenity. No, I was ill, huge, ungainly and largely miserable. Pregnancy was not what I expected it to be.

Then, there was the labour part. Oh god, the labour part. High blood pressure, medical inducement, errant consultants, a failed epidural and then an emergency c-section. By no means the natural, wondrous experience I’d hoped for.

As if to compound the bad pregnancy and labour, my precious baby then spent the first 8 days of her life in intensive care. If there was one thing that I didn’t expect, it was that I didn’t get to hold my daughter until she was a week old. I had to stand by and watch as she was cared for by nurse after nurse, unable to do anything for her.

The thing that I was least prepared for of all was the fact that I had to go home empty handed, leaving my baby behind in the hospital. I did not expect the first week of my daughter’s life to be tinged with worry and sadness.

But more than any of this, I did not expect that I was capable of feeling so much love for one tiny human being. I did not expect to be so happy to be tired and covered in sick/pasta sauce/Play Doh. I did not expect to be happy to give up my social life.

I did not expect to take more pleasure from buying clothes for my daughter than for myself. I did not expect to be so excited by every new word, action or facial expression she learns. I did not expect to be so happy to  spend every minute of every day with my mini human. I did not expect to want to spend my holidays at Euro Disney.

Nothing about parenthood is what I expected. But I wouldn’t change it for a second.

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