Birthday Whine

Turned 23 today and I'm being totally pouty about it. I don't remember my birthday ever falling on Easter weekend before, though it's probably happened. So of course, my party won't be til next weekend and basically no one seems to give a crap that my birthday was today. Poor Erik works nights so he stayed up after work to get Evers up when she woke this morning and went to sleep in time for her first nap. Then she and I woke him up after only a couple hours (oops) and he never got to nap again, but was falling asleep a lot. And my birthday dinner was Chinese food because we didn't have anyone available to watch the baby so we could go out where I wanted to go. And now he's at work. Tomorrow morning we're going to an Easter egg hunt about an hour south and then Sunday is Easter so we'll have two houses to parade Everleigh around in.

And my mom didn't even remember or care enough about my birthday because she went and scheduled a sleepover with the church youth tonight at her house so I couldn't even come and have my birthday dinner like I have since I was a baby. And she didn't call, text, or even Facebook (she always calls) until 6:35pm when she finally sent a quick, "Happy birthday" to me (without punctuation or anything else). And I felt like a total afterthought this year.

On the bright side, I dressed Evers up in a beautiful T-shirt and red skirt that would have been for Valentine's Day except on Valentine's Day I forgot, and she loved the skirt because it had shiny hearts and was poofy. And I'm really excited about my party next Saturday. I'm going all-out nerd and it's Harry Potter themed and I was totally embarrassed, but Erik made me do it cause he knew I wanted it and none of my friends have teased me (except my kid brother, but he doesn't count) at all.

And I know there are a lot worse things going on for other people. Hell, there are worse things in my own life. It just was such a let down. I didn't even get a single present today.

That's enough whining, though. My alarm's going off at 8:30 for that egg hunt and it's already just past one. I really wish we hadn't said yes...

Fast Food Poisoning and Three Hundred Prompts

So, guys, it's been a while. I really appreciate the kind words I got on that last blog post as well as the words I got off the actual post. I let Erik read it and he was absolutely amazing. Have I pulled myself out of that rut? Well, no, not really, but I'm feeling a lot better most of the time. The house is in great shape and we're doing a good job keeping it that way, too. I applied again for Medicaid and I missed the appointment, but I called them and left a message so maybe I can get back on meds soon. Evers' coverage lapsed and I have to get her back on, so it's not something I can put off this time.

Oh, also, Ev has become more clingy toward me. She wants me now, instead of being a total Daddy's girl. Sometimes, this is not always a blessing after all... haha.

In other news, but slightly related because I mentioned food in that post, I recently got horribly, unbelievably sick after eating at our closest McDonald's and it ruined yet another St. Patrick's Day (two years ago, I was about two weeks shy still of my twenty-first birthday, and last year I was pregnant). Later, I learned that my dad was briefly ill, and I think maybe someone in Erik's family, too, so it probably wasn't the McDonald's, but I still feel a repulsion toward it and I'm super excited to say that for almost two weeks now (since the fifteenth) I haven't had one bite of fast food. I think I've only had soda once (the other day at Costco with my mom) I think, not including the gingerale we bought to settle my stomach and I only drank maybe a liter of that total. I have not craved fast food since and have no desire to return. You should all be super proud of me (and of Erik, especially). Of course, that means we had a lot of Hot Pockets, Pizza Rolls, and Eggo so far, but it's progress! Baby steps!

Moving on to something else. Some of you may know about NaNoWriMo. It stands for National Novel Writing Month. The goal is to write 50,000 words in a month (November) and it's a huge international thing. I participate each year since 09, although I've never "won." Well, there's also sometimes a "Camp NaNo" in the spring or summer. Last year I think it was August it was June, this year it's April. I decided about an hour ago that I'm going to go for it. As I've never done it, I don't know all the details, but I know you sign up and get assigned a cabin if you want and can pick your own word count. I'm going for 25k. I'll up it to 30k depending on where I get through the month.

My plan is not to write a novel, but just to write. I will be using 300 writing prompts I once created while I did play-by-post RPGs. I will write short stories, scenes, and poetry, based off each one and how I interpret it. I will be posting them here, too, to help get motivation and keep myself accountable. Please, keep in mind that these will all be very rough first drafts, there will be typos, and I'm self-conscious. I will put that actual table in a separate post because of the amount of coding and the fact that I will probably need to tweak it because of the blog settings. Also to keep things looking clean.

I appreciate your support!

This Nest, A Cage I Built Myself

When I wake up in the morning, my day is foggy. My day feels so short, but so tedious. I wake up when my baby girl crows, having stayed up until God knows when the night before. I change her, feed her, plop her on the floor and turn on Netflix and open up my laptop. I smile and talk to her a little, scold her and smack her hand if she grabs at the computer, which she’s always fascinated by. On a good day, I sometimes get down on the floor a couple times.

At one, I wake Erik. He’ll play with her a little bit, catch up on emails or classwork. Usually she’ll need a nap now, but it’s possible that she already went down before I woke him. If not, I ask him to make the bottle and he does. He’ll take her up for her nap. Depending on the time, we may have a little time to spend together.

Between two-thirty and three, he leaves for his internship. I will stay on the computer, telling myself I’ll get [insert task-of-the-day here] started in a minute… after so-and-so signs off and we’re done talking… after this episode… at blank ‘o’clock… I have a million reasons and rationalizations. I say that the baby’s down now, so now’s my time for a minute to relax, as if I haven’t already been screwing around. Maybe I’m working on something job-search related or at least minutely more productive than refreshing Facebook for the umpteenth time. But that’s not work. Hell, I usually get my three job-search-related activities done on Friday or Saturday before I certify for my unemployment. Of course, I want a job so that we’ll be more financially stable, but really I want things to magically fall into place for Erik so I don’t have to.

Shit. It’s four. It’s five. It’s six and Erik will be done soon. Seven, he’s walking in the door. I never got dinner on. I never remembered to put the chicken in the fridge to defrost yesterday. “Baby, you wanna just pick something up this time? I’ll cook tomorrow. For real.” Twice a day. Every day.

Erik comes home from his internship. The baby woke up a while ago and is playing on the floor again. I don’t think she’s happy here, but I ignore it, mostly because I don’t know what to do for her. There’s no room to crawl around. She loves my mom’s new house. It’s big and open and there are doggies to chase and a hard floor with enough room for a walker.

She gets so excited for him. He walks through that door and she makes this little gasping excited noise and hops up. She rushes to where the ottoman is blocking her into the area, pulling herself up and bouncing, shouting at him. “Hi, baby girl!” he exclaims! Usually he has to empty his hands. Too often he needs to use the bathroom and she cries a moment after he disappears, protesting. I calm her down or wait it out, depending on my mood. It shames me to admit that I get annoyed at her when she’s like that, but it’s not her fault. She’s a baby. I think I’m jealous. I know I’m jealous. She does not get excited like that for me. When we pick her up after a weekend at Grammie’s, she smiles for me and sometimes reaches for me, but she usually lights up for her daddy and wants him almost right after. She almost never wants me, her mommy.

They cuddle. They may play a little. He asks what’s for dinner and ends up running for something on the days I don’t have a frozen pizza to pop in. I may have already texted him to get something. We may already be eating at this point. He’ll probably feed her her dinner, or else bring it to me to feed her.

Between eight and nine, the baby needs to go to bed. Erik usually makes her bottle, but sometimes I do. He takes her up and puts her down with it. If there’s time and we’re both amenable, we may have sex. During and after sex are two of the only times where I feel alive and good again. I feel like I might actually still have some beauty left in me. I can believe him a little when he tells me he wants me, that he loves me.

No, that’s not fair. I always know he loves me. But I rarely believe he should. I rarely understand why he does. Other than the baby. But every once in a while, while he gets ready for work and I cuddle up with a pillow watching him, still naked and half under the covers, I might wonder if we would be together like this without the baby. More often I’m just wondering if we’ll always make this work. We’re still three months from our second anniversary. If it weren’t for her, could we really think about forever? Maybe we could start now. We wouldn’t be so crazy to start thinking about it now.

He always kisses me goodbye and tells me he loves me. Every time. Even if he’s just running for food. Even when one of us is having a grumpy mood. Sometimes I’ll be difficult and make him work for it, just to postpone it those extra seconds. A few rare times we’ve been in a fight and I haven’t gotten that kiss. It breaks my heart.

I’m usually exhausted. All day, in fact. I fight my sleepiness. Occasionally I have a nap. Even when I don’t, I can’t sleep. I yawn and yawn, but I usually toss and turn if I go to bed. I might bring my computer, but it doesn’t change much when I don’t. I consider it getting to bed early when I sleep at midnight, yet I’m so tired when he walks out that door at nine-forty. Do you want to know what time it is right now? As I type these words? 3:15:22 a.m. I’m finally getting sleepy enough to sleep, but these words have to come out.

I go back downstairs now, or I’m already down there, and I play whatever show I feel like watching. I’ve been allowing myself to explore girlier shows, or dramas he wouldn’t like as much so that I won’t watch something we both like and get ahead of him. I grab the computer again and I’m on and off it all night. Too many nights, I curl up on the couch, exhausted, and fall asleep there. When he gets home from work, Erik’s noise tends to wake me and we go up to bed together…

Until the baby crows.

I feel like my day is full. I feel so overwhelmed when I try to do something. I stumble over whatever is cluttering up my floor. I trip into the kitchen, past my towering laundry pile. My dishes are ridiculous because Erik hasn’t been able to get to them yet. I know, though, that it should be my job. But I swear that if he does it once, all the way pristine, I will let him out of our ridiculously unfair deal and take over them. I’m at home now. I lost my job and now I’m at home and I should take care of my house and my family. I should clean and cook and still have a ton of time really to do nothing as my recipes are fairly straightforward and tend to involve a number of hours in the crockpot, and I always have to wait between the loads of laundry.

I just look at piles and piles all over and I feel overwhelmed. I crawl up onto the couch and push just enough stuff over to make my little nest, carving out a niche in the debris on my side table for a glass of water or whatever fast food cup Erik’s brought me now. I have to vacuum and carpet clean from a couple of spills, but I don’t know how to get my carpet clear.

And the baby. I don’t know how to play with her. She’s not like babies were supposed to be. She thinks peekaboo is stupid and doesn’t care when I make funny voices and talk through her toys. She’s not ticklish. She doesn’t like it every single time I swing her upside down or toss her in the air, but at least it works some of the time. I try reading to her, but it seems so weird. Even then, she just tries to eat the book, which I know is normal, but I can’t help but be disappointed by.

I was pregnant and I took my meds like a good girl. I don’t remember how often I forgot, but it was better than my usual track record. I swore to myself and my baby that she would never see me like this. She would never know mommy’s dark days, or whatever term she coins for it. Or really, I can coin it whatever I want, because she wouldn’t get to see them to coin them herself. That’s the point. I swore she would not know the days of me doing nothing on end on the couch and she would not know anything about me lying in bed. She wouldn’t know about my needless crying or moods or meanness or darkness. I would take my meds and I would be better for her. So she could never become me. Then I lost my Medicaid and I haven’t gotten it back.

Now I get bigger and sicker and it gets harder and harder to pull myself out of this. I spend whole days where I never move from that couch. I pee two or three times. I make a bottle or two for the baby, putting her down and getting her back up, if Erik isn’t home. The thought of leaving the house frightens me now. I rarely shower.

And no one understands how serious this has gotten…

Yearbook 2012

Guys! I Shutterfly'd again... I'm doing that Family Yearbook project that's been all over Pinterest. I started in September and finished the last tweaks a few weeks ago. After checking it all over today, I got to order it! So on top of just liking to share this crap, sharing gets you ten dollar codes. Of course, the one I had already expired on December 31st, so I didn't get to use it on this project after all, but I still got free shipping and 40% off, which totaled about fifty-nine dollars in discounts. Yeah. Love Shutterfly.

Click here to view this photo book larger

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Santa

So Erik and I finalized our discussion on Santa or no. I listed my cons (materialism, pulling away from the together aspect, not wanting an imaginary guy to get credit for what we scraped together, how difficult I must have been when I told my mom "Well, I'll ask Santa!", not wanting my kid to sit on some grown man's lap at Christmas, etc.) and then he listed his pros. He expressed how he wanted her to have that magic like he did. He said his mom would help out and "be" Santa on some of the gifts, so not all the pressure would be put on us. I remembered a printable on Pinterest I'd found once for a Christmas list to Santa to help keep kids from getting too greedy. I pulled it up.

The link went to a blog called Home by Heidi, but it took a lot of digging to find the right entry. It turns out she, too, found it on Pinterest, and it is an idea I've seen in various printable forms since. Erik loved it. He said his mom would be excited to buy her a book, and his Aunt Julie would be all over the clothes part. And his mom fills a stocking from Santa every year. So we wouldn't have the entire burden, and she also wouldn't get greedy. So you could say I caved, but I really think it was just a good compromise. Santa is on!

Nightmares

I've been gone a while. I've tried to write a post several times since, but every time I started, I couldn't get the wording right. I got busy for a while, too busy to blog, when I started a new job at St. Jude. Finally! I was out of retail! But it was a temp job and it fell through after two months, through no fault of my own. I was sworn he'd call us back as soon as possible. Hopefully, in a week! That was eight weeks and one day ago. I looked it up for ya'll. You're welcome.

So after about three weeks, my friend Katie (who I honestly don't know if I've talked about on here before) told me to apply at her JCPenney. So I did, and I got a phone call almost exactly ten minutes after I submitted my application online, before she could even tell her bosses, "Hey, I found your next star!" like she had promised. So I got hired and it's another temporary (seasonal) job, but I think this one actually will pan out. I've even almost gotten over how butthurt I felt when my supervisor at St. Jude consistently refused to call me back (he had told me to call after a certain day). I still have my locker key and he has my expensive tennis shoes locked up in there, but without my expired name badge, I can't even get onto the campus, and it's not worth the possible humiliation of someone there seeing me and recognizing me. I really miss some of the friendships that had been developing, though.

Anyway, now I'm dwelling again. I think I could really enjoy my time at JCP. We find out soon who stays and who goes, and I'm hoping to stay and move off the floor to the support team. If I go, we're fucked. We got our own place a few days before I lost the job at St. Jude, but went through with the move anyway. Luckily, we had a little bit of savings. When that ran out, we took out the ~three grand in Erik's old retirement fund from FedEx. That'll tide us over until he gets an extra couple grand from his student loan some time next month. Between those, we'll make it until he's done with school and can get a better job, hopefully as a decently-paid personal trainer, or maybe at a local high school. He'll be doing his internship this last semester there coaching the basketball team and there's a small-but-not-insignificant chance that it could turn into a job. I'm secretly rooting for personal trainer because I think it would pay better. However, coaching at a high school would be closer to his dream job (strength and conditioning coach for an NFL team), so I'd most rather he'd be happy.

So why did I title this post Nightmare? Because I woke up from one and retreated to my computer. Everyone has that one dream subject that really fucks with their mind. It makes you wake up and wish you didn't ever have to sleep again. Mine is zombies. It sounds laughable, but when you really think about what they are, and the terror that is suddenly being overrun by them and not having enough ammo or something, it's perfectly logical that a zombie dream would make you wake up, heart racing, all sweaty and terrified, and paranoid, and accidentally thinking the way that pile of laundry is sitting on the chair in your living room looks like a corpse sitting at rest waiting to wake at the sound of you. Oh, and also to make you terrified of your large glass patio doors, because that would be a very easy entry point. Point being, I am now sitting up at my computer because I will not go back to sleep. I have woken up a number of times and keep returning to the dream and I do not like it. I think I need to turn on something nice and sweet on Netflix, but that doesn't always work... I find myself really wishing I had my dog to snuggle...

Oh, that. We had to surrender Tucker to the animal shelter on Thursday. He has behavioral problems that came to a head. We could no longer ignore them or try to fix him. We were the wrong kind of family for him. For the sake of our daughter and our sanity, we had to give him up. Good news is, with the holidays upon us, the man at the shelter was very nice and optimistic about his chances of being adopted soon. He'd be perfectly for a family with a stay-at-home mom or something, especially with kids and maybe other dogs. He did better living with my parents, which made it so easy to ignore his problems. He had four dogs to follow and my mom was usually home. He responded to a shock collar and his only aggression was the occasional scuffle over food with the other big dog or if you spanked him he'd growl and if you got nasty, he might snap at you. A bad thing, I know. Not good around Everleigh, no matter how unbelievable he was with her. But something the right environment can work on.

Anyway, I don't want to talk about it. I didn't even plan on bringing it up. This post was originally going to be a quick sum up and then talking about the dilemma I have as a former Christian, especially around the holidays (religious songs that I still love, other ones that are more modern that I don't like that JCP plays and I accept in this public forum only because Jesus technically is the reason for the season, people tell me to have a "blessed day" and me awkwardly having to nod...). Really, I'm just always looking for quotes on Pinterest and there's plenty of good ones, but then they have "Psalms such and such" or something across it. And that's totally cool, but it's not like quoting other old texts. It has a current meaning and there are current followers. People will make assumptions about you, like if you post a lot of quotes from someone with a liberal stance. And while "Christian" is not the worst assumption for people to make (and the older black ladies I work(ed) with here or at St. Jude tend(ed) to assume so anyway), it's not me. Especially since it was me, I feel this urge to differentiate myself. Even when the quote is beautiful...

I'm not sure how to do Christmas without it. It's easy enough when you're just two of you, going between the homes of the extended family. But now I have Everleigh. Without the Christ of it, how do you make this something more than a holiday to celebrate materialism? Christmas means so much to me. It's a time for family and to express your love with gift giving and receiving. It's a time to make a mess with cookie baking and sharing and eating. It's not just consumerism to me. I actually feel the notion of "Santa" (be good only so you can receive more presents?) makes that harder to teach. I don't want to do Santa with her. My mom is all OMG YOU HAVE TO! and I think Erik wants to, too, so I'll probably cave...

Oh Lord, it's after two. I initially went to bed quite early because Evers went down too early. Then when I woke up, I wasn't even that sleepy anymore. Now is about when I'd go to sleep when I stay up late. Hell, my alarm still goes off exactly eight hours from now. But I'm going to sleep. In between taking too long to type this, I put on some beautiful Youtube covers and caught up with my oldest friend. It's been a good way to take my mind off... the thing I don't want to think about in case I have more dreams...

It's good to write again. I'll try to do it more often. I have some wonderful pictures from the town square with my daughter, my best friend, and her daughter. It's all lit up now. So beautiful. I also made sock snowmen that I found on Pinterest as a gift for my MIL. I'll share all these pictures soon. Night, guys.

Stationery card

Got ten free Holiday cards from Shutterfly in my email. Had to order by Tuesday. Picked a couple favorite pictures of our family and made one. It even took off the extra charge to have half of them come with pre-addressed envelopes because I hate addressing envelopes.

It makes me feel all ~special family~ and ~grown up~ to make a holiday card. I love Shutterfly. They ran a special for a 29.99 off (or free, if you get the same size I got last time) photobook a week or so ago that I caught on the last day. I gave my copy from before to Liza and so I ordered one for myself now.

I want Shutterfly gift cards...

Merry Everything Christmas Card

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New Hair!

So I haven't been around in a while. It's amazing how your life can go from empty to crazy in a heartbeat. I got the new job at St. Jude I mentioned before. It means I basically live at work and it's exhausting, but in the best possible way. I'll write more about it later.

I made an attempt today to fulfill a bucket list item: Dye my hair a spectacularly unnatural shade (#46). Namely, pink. I consulted with a stylist at the local Ulta salon, using a clip-in colored extension as the inspiration piece. She got the dye to match perfectly and seven and a half hours later........

I left with black hair.

Oh, and bangs. And under-eye bags. And a ridiculous boyfriend.

In the right light, you can detect a hint of purple/pink/berry cast. But essentially it didn't work. I think the problem was that we decided it was too light after one application, then left the second application on too long. It just got darker and darker. Because we bleached it first, it has nowhere to go but lighter when it fades, so she predicted that in about two weeks it'll be where I planned it (matching the extension piece). She also said I could try the clarifying shampoo I'd mentioned owning. I'm afraid to screw it up completely, but I may try that in the morning and see if it washes more dye out and brings out some pink.

On the bright side, whatever happens, she did not charge me the 200 it would have cost me without the coupon I had - or the 165 it actually did cost. (It was a haircut and two colors, not because of the second application, but because she mixed a red with what was technically called violet something, but matched the pink extension almost perfectly.) In fact, she didn't charge me a damned thing. She seriously rang it up then said I paid cash and told me goodbye, handing me the receipt. I was stunned - so much so that I forgot to tip the woman. I plan to return to her for my next cut (I enjoyed the seven-and-a-half hours of conversation on top of liking the unexpected end results) and will tip her double. I said so in the text I sent her; she texted me pictures she took for me throughout the progress because I forgot my phone in the car when Erik dropped me off.

Speaking of which...

Since I had not shelled out the expected fortune (I budgeted it into my allowance and the sixty bucks I won off the Packers-Bears game [go Pack!] Thursday), Erik and I went to Penny's (it's right next door to Ulta) and surprised the friend I had planned to go to the Cooper-Young Festival with before taking an inordinate amount of time at the salon. Katie played saleslady and we bought a couple things for Ever - some for now, some for when she's bigger. Then we went to Barnes and Noble because Erik loves it as much as I do and bought some stuff. Then we shelled out 83 dollars at Walmart, which I'm not really sure how that was done... We bought shampoo, conditioner, mousse, eyeliner, and three magazines. Oh, and a jacket for winter because I was looking for a women's sherpa-style jacket all last year and couldn't find one that had more than just the hood lined in the fuzzy fleece. This year they have a whole section devoted to them and I got one in a pretty blue.

Oh, and I got new reading glasses. My old pair broke and I've been spending my lunch breaks reading stuff I have from Pixel of Ink on my Kindle and I need a pair.

Erik helped pick them out.

Wow, this ended up long. Anyway, I'm happy. I hope it fades to pink because I really wanted it. But if it doesn't, I'll live, I think. I'll just have to cross it off my bucket list later.

The Three-Day Diet

I bought grapefruit today.

I don't like grapefruit.

I love Pinterest. I have to tell you that. It's incredible for sharing things you'd never otherwise find. My favorite are recipes. The more chocolaty, the better. Between a blog I found through Facebook and all the stuff Pinterest has to offer, I have Christmas covered, guys.

Now, I have a couple boards for several things, covering most of the Pinterest categories. Even tattoos, and they only just made that an official category. One thing I don't have, though, is a board for weight loss. Maybe I should. Weight loss tips and exercise routines keep popping up in my stream, or whatever it's called on Pinterest, but I don't usually care for many of them. Anything I do like goes onto my "other" board. Maybe I should try to find some things I do like and finally make that fitness board? Maybe.

I would have to start with the three-day diet. Apparently, in three days you should lose up to ten pounds. You could lose, potentially, forty pounds in a month. I did weigh myself last Friday (no pictures, though) and I was 239. Yikes. My best weight was around 160 by Spring of 2011. I have gained all that weight back and then some since having Everleigh. I'm heavier than I've ever been in my life. But I could potentially lose eighty pounds in two months and be back at my favorite weight if I did this diet.

You're supposed to follow it for three days in a row (I would pick Sunday, Monday, Tuesday due to scheduling) and then eat like normal, but not in excess (you don't want to gain it back), for four days. Then you do it again. Thus, forty pounds in four weeks.

The original poster said this was shared with her by a military man that attended her church. They sometimes use it to lose weight quickly. It is supposed to be a safe and effective diet. I believe someone calculated it at about 1200 calories a day, which is fine, at least for a woman. I think it's also okay for a man, especially if it's only three of seven days each week. The concern is hypoglycemia. I am actually very prone to it, but it's not severe. It was bad when I was pregnant, but I know how to keep from having anything happen and don't even usually have to think about it. If I have a sugary breakfast I sometimes get weak, but that's it for the most part. The original poster said she only did it for two days because of hypoglycemic symptoms and still lost five pounds. Two of her friends did all three and each lost eight.

I'd be happy losing eight pounds in a week.

I asked Erik if he would do it with me and he said yes. I showed him the diet and I know it'll be harder for him than me. I eat less than he does. He's a big guy, and I don't just mean his waistline (which really isn't bad, he's just gained weight since we got together; he's still my sexy man). I don't know where he got that build, but there's a reason he's been hired as a bouncer before.

I love it.

Anyway... I even got him to agree to let me take pictures of him like I did me. I say "got him to," but it was as simple as, "Would it be okay if I photographed you when we did it?" "Yeah." "...For my blog?" "Yeah." "That means showing off your weight on the internet." "Yeah, that's fine." I love him.

Sidebar: I fucking love him. He's unbelievably supportive of anything I want to do. There's never a "no you can't" or resistance. He even said he'd consider letting me paint the ceiling purple when we have our own place. (Or maybe he didn't say that, but I've decided that he did. That's another reason I love him. I get to be a brat and he thinks it's cute. Sexy even. So maybe there's something wrong with his brain, but why fix it? :P)

So I'm going to copy the diet in here. I put the link to the original post, but I don't like her formatting. It's difficult to read, especially when she lists each day's meals. However, it's good to read the comments if you want.

DAY ONE:

• Breakfast:
• 1/2 grapefruit
• 1 slice toast
• 2 tbs. peanut butter
• coffee or tea
• Lunch:
• 1/2 cup tuna
• 1 slice toast
• coffee or tea
• Dinner:
• 2 slices any type of meat (about 3 oz.)
• 1 cup green beans
• 1/2 banana
• 1 small apple
• 1 cup vanilla ice cream

DAY TWO:

• Breakfast:
• 1 egg
• 1 slice toast
• 1/2 banana
• Lunch:
• 1/2 cup cottage cheese (or 1 slice cheddar cheese)
• 1 hard boiled egg
• 5 saltine crackers
• Dinner:
• 2 hot dogs (no buns)
• 1 cup broccoli
• 1/2 cup carrots
• 1/2 banana
• 1/2 cup vanilla ice cream

DAY THREE:

• Breakfast:
• 5 saltine crackers
• 1 slice cheddar cheese
• 1 small apple
• Lunch:
• 1 hard boiled egg
• 1 slice toast
• Dinner:
• 1 cup tuna
• 1/2 banana
• 1 cup vanilla ice cream

So the big rule, I guess, is you're not allowed to substitute anything. I do not like tuna (day one, day three) and I will not eat it. Knowing full well it may damage the success of this diet, I will find some other protein around the same amount of calories to eat. I know that's cheating, but I can't do it otherwise. I do not like cottage cheese (day two) either, but luckily they gave an alternative already. Cheddar isn't my favorite cheese, but I do like it, as long as it's not sharp cheddar. (I like mild, my mom buys medium to compromise between me and my dad. I can deal with that.)

You can use salt and pepper, but no other seasoning. On the first day you're allowed coffee or tea, but you're only allowed to drink water at any other point. It sucks cause I'm a total crack whore for milk right now, but I'll live. Erik will have a harder time, I think, cutting out Coke Zero. I don't think he's developed a caffeine addiction yet, but it may be close. But he can drink it the other four days, so that's fine.

Oh, and no eating between meals.

The comments say it works. It works better if you're active, obviously. It is a military diet after all. We're going to try it. I don't care for grapefruit, but I'll eat it. My mom says she knows how to make it less bitter and that's without sugar. She's gonna teach us how to properly eat a grapefruit.

We'll see if this works. I'll post starting weights and pictures when we start. The grapefruit is in the fridge, so it'll probably be this coming week.

Oh, and if it doesn't work, I found a more liberal (or it appears to be, without reading it that thoroughly yet) version here that promises the same results, numberswise. We'll see what happens.

Wish us luck!

Organize My Life - Filing Away

My parents are probably going to sell their house. We've currently got all our crap stuffed in my old bedroom and - quite frankly - we have ten pounds of shit stuffed into a five pound can. They'll want to show the house, obviously, so we're going to have to fix this. This is a good-sized bedroom, but the way things are now, it doesn't look like it. I don't know what they're planning on us doing, but I'm trying right now to just condense and organize.

We have papers everywhere, boxes and bins of crap we don't need or even know about. The other night I was looking for a notebook of mine that I'd written Erik's bank account info in a while back because I wanted to be naughty and get something off etsy. I dug everywhere I could think of and never found my pink scribble book. I did, however, finally discover the location of my "missing" purple file bin. (I have a purple, green, blue, and yellow one. I thought I had a pink, but if I did, it's somewhere else now. I had managed to hide the purple one from myself in my closet.) I also found that the banker's box sitting on my closet shelf was not an organized box of anything. It was a dump site for a shit-ton of papers, mostly Erik's schoolwork.

That happens a lot, the random dumping of papers. We get a lot of things we need to file and a lot of random mail and it all ends up in one spot, just tossed there to be tended to later - and then it's not tended to. Ever.

I also had a ton of laundry all over that needed to be put away - especially Ever's laundry. So I enlisted Erik before he had to go to work tonight and we got that put away. Then after he left I pulled out the bins. There was a blue bin that was sorted but not filed - his schoolwork. Then there was the purple bin - existing files. I finally let go of sentimentality and threw away about half of it. There's still a yellow bin I haven't pulled out. I'll probably do it tomorrow or Friday. Tomorrow is Family Night and even though they're having it Saturday because Erik's grandma Joyce is in town for Everleigh's baptism (by the way, she's getting baptized Sunday), they want to do an early evening Thursday one. I think after that it'll be on the weekends because Erik's brother Ethan got a new job, too, so two of the brothers can't do it now. And I think Elliot will be able to do weekends. Not sure. It's all so confusing. I just show up where I'm told to be.

Anyway. Blue bin done. Purple bin done. Banker's box done. To do: Yellow bin. Pile on the printer. Crap on desk. Pile on cubicals (bookshelves). I think I have crap in the nightstand, too. But all these other piles are relatively small. The only big one left is the yellow bin, and that's already filed, I just need to condense it. It should be pretty easy.

This is me earlier, buried in papers and files on our bed:

Love my ratty old butterfly PJ pants.

See how messy the cubes are in the background? I will tame this room again.

I say again like we've ever been organized... When I first arrived at his house, all my crap was just dumped in his living room. I never fully unpacked even my clothes. And my mess made him messy because we were just all over each other - and not in the good way. (Well, also in the good way.) And then we moved very quickly into my old room, where we had even less room. But now I'm determined to fix this. I want to toss and shift and make it all good. I've never been organized in my life, but I want to get us our own place (even if it's a rental) and I want to start off fresh. I'm also working on a budget and figuring out how to live on our money. And we've vowed to eliminate fast food. And to work on an allowance each instead of free spending. I'm the worse one at that. And we're supposed to start saving. I wanna move out around the new year. If we take (big) baby steps, we might make that happen. His mom has already agreed to help us out with rent, at least until he's done with school and can get his personal trainer cert. They can make decent money right off the bat.

Anyway, I've hit my rambling point and I need to cut myself off. It's just shy of four in the morning. I couldn't help myself tonight. The baby is attempting to sleep through the night the last two nights, so she's let me work on this, and I had a burst of drive and energy. I actually committed to this one. Even with taking a break to watch this week's episode of Dallas on the DVR.

Right. Rambling.

This is my tired ass saying good night and signing off. Don't I look exhausted? I am. But also very pleased with myself.

Andy

You know a particularly interesting thing about being in a committed, totally secure long-term relationship is? Making friends. Mainly, male friends. When I first started dating Erik, I was living in Colorado. His other friend from Memphis, also entwined in my group of friends but I'd never met him, had moved a couple months before me to Denver. His name is Andy. He's pretty much a totally awesome dude. He's 24 or 25, a gunsmith, prematurely balding, and a little taller than me, but not much. He's one of the most fun people to talk to ever and a total catch, especially since the balding thing isn't too noticeable yet and he's not that short, he just seems it next to Erik who is ginormous. He's sarcastic, and smart, and ridiculously funny. He's also incredibly generous, with his time and his financial means.

If I hadn't been dating Erik, I would have been looking at him through the eyes of a single woman looking for a mate. I looked at every man I met that way. It kept me from really making friends with any guy. But I never looked at Andy that way. I saw him as a cool, fun guy that shared a recently-acquired interest of mine (guns). Hell, the day I met him he gave Erik a brand new shotgun he'd built for his birthday, which was just four days away.

I wouldn't have gotten to meet him like this. Well, I might have met him since he was associated with some of our friends already, but I got to look at him as a person and not a penis. It's a much better view of the world. Now he's almost definitely going to Kuwait to make guns for anywhere from one to three years. He'll come back debt-free (he has to pay back gunsmithing school, which he just finished last summer) with 100 to 150k in the bank, ready to buy a house and start a life. How brilliant is that?

I'm nervous about him going to Kuwait, though. I know he'll probably be fine, he's not exactly a soldier, but it's still very dangerous. That's what sparked this post. I realized how much a love him, and it's purely a platonic thing. I'm protective of him like I am my brother or Erik's brothers when he goes back and forth with this destructive, needy girl I'm kind of friends with cause I have to be. I worry about him getting hurt. He's one of my best friends - and he's a guy, and straight. I have had this with two other guys. One was gay and I was still in love with him secretly (then again, I was a silly teenager). The other, the one who got me into guns, I still ended up half-naked with one night once. I am not good at separating things. Not every man is a penis. They may all have one (well most of them, but that's pretty off-topic), but not every man is one.

It's something I hope I can instill in my daughter. Make male friends. Worry about picking a mate from your pool of friends. Strangers to friends, friends to boyfriends. Don't skip that middle part. I want that for her.

I Want Cookies

It's almost 5:30 in the morning and I haven't gone to bed yet, so why not write an entry! That's the logic behind today's post.

I have to say, I cannot wait for cold weather. I want to bake and experiment and right now the A/C is on the fritz, at least downstairs in the kitchen, and even if it was working well down there, turning on the oven is just a bad idea. I live in Memphis and we live in a house with shitty, leaky, single-pane windows with rotting trim that make it 83 degrees when it's set to 75. It does not get any cooler during the day. Add on the 300% humidity and the last thing you want to do is bake cookies. However, I've spent far too much of my time on Pinterest finding recipes and crafts. Between the two, my head is swirling and buzzing and all I want is to do stuff, but I don't have the money for it.

My life. For reals.

And I also love Scrivener. I'm making a recipe book using the template they have for it. It's unbelievably awesome. I copy and paste recipes in and it's very simple to format it how I want if I paste it in with destination formatting (ctrl+shift+V instead of just ctrl+V). Since there's always an image, I paste that in until I'll be able to take and add my own pictures.

Last Christmas I tried a few new cookie recipes, a Nutella-swirled peanut butter cookie that everyone loved (my PB cookies are legendary and a huge hit in this house, plus Erik is a Nutella freak so it was obvious that I had to try this), a Rolo cake mix cookie (it's impossible to describe without the recipe and pictures) that went over pretty well as well, and a peanut butter-banana-honey-oat dog cookie. I got the boys to try the batter on the dog cookie and they admitted it wasn't that bad. I think the dog cookie may have been the biggest hit the way my dogs went nuts and the way even Erik's old dog at his parents' house, Bandit, loved them. I was told she never usually likes dog treats.

Anyway, all of this was done on the 23rd and 24th, very last minute. I wish I'd been smart and started baking sooner. This year, the moment it gets chilly I'm pulling up Pinterest, pulling up my Scrivener recipe book (I'm so sad because due to computer death I lost the other one I'd been working on, so I'll have to re-Google some recipes), and breaking out the cookie sheets. Making this recipe book just fuels my need.

There was honestly no point to this post. I'm just sleep-deprived because I don't think Ever's feeling too great, yet I can't sleep anyway. Erik took her out of the room for the last hour and I didn't even yawn. I think I'm becoming nocturnal, which sucks since I'll have to go back to work again soon... Oh well. We'll figure it out.

Thing is, though, she was a great sleeper at first. This only happened in the last two or so weeks...

For God's Sake...

Erik let me pass out when he got home from work last night, but now she's mine since five. She won't sleep... Why won't she sleep? She's been fed, burped, changed... I swaddled her, it made her mad. I unswaddled her, she's still mad. She's in her swing, rocking. She wants me to hold her, but she hasn't slept all night, and I honestly didn't sleep very well either. The light was on, I still had my bra on, and I kept listening for her.

I'm going to go insane...

UPDATE: (6:35am)

Omg, she might be falling asleep. Please God... PLEASE...

Weight, Writing, and Brains

Yesterday afternoon I weighed myself and I was 237.5, but this morning I was 235.5 so I'm not sure which it is. I'm just going with it. If I go with the lower one, I still keep gaining a pound a week. I don't know why. I'm not really trying hard or anything, but I'm not binging or anything either. I barely eat thanks to Ever. Maybe that's the problem. I need to try to eat better and get some sort of breakfast in. I found a pin for salad in a jar that doesn't go bad for a week. If I can convince my mom to buy a vacuum sealer (fat chance, but I'll give it a shot) I might be able to do it. I love salads. So does Erik and my dad, so that might help convince her.

New subject, I've started a blog for a series of posts for a story I've had in my head. I don't know if I'll keep up with it for very long, but I wanna try and update it once a week or so to keep the story going. It's called Project White Wing and the link is in the top tabs on this blog.

More random. My little chubs keeps wanting to eat and eat. I've gotten used to it now, but I keep having to make new bottles and then she tops herself off with a little more and so often I forget to refrigerate the leftovers. Ounces of formula at a time go to waste that way. My brain is completely crapped out. I need more sleep. And to get better at remembering to put the bottles in the fridge.

By the way, Erik's new job is the full time position. :D

Photobomb

Erik and I went out to celebrate his new job last night. We went and saw Ted. It was pretty funny. I liked it. It was one of those stupid comedies that wasn't completely awful. But maybe it's because Mila Kunis is damned sexy and awesome. And afterward, we went to The Fox and Hound, a pub near his parents' house. I got a couple of pictures. I can't put them on Facebook for a little bit because Erik played hookie from work last night, but I can put them on here.

This was called "Island Rum Berry Punch," I think. It was fantastically fruity. I also tried a vodka drink called "Fruit Loopy," and we each did a shot called "Apple Jack," Jack Daniels and some Sour Apple thing. It was delicious.

My cheeks are so flushed from the alcohol in those last two. Those were in his mom's bathroom while we picked up Everleigh. Speaking of which, she turned a month old on the 30th (she was born May 31st) and I got some pictures of her in her birthday outfit last night. She's adorable.

 We call this her grumpy old man face.

That's all. I'm getting really into Pinterest lately and I want to try crafting some things. Erik and I have to hit the stores anyway, so I might get a few supplies. My camera isn't the best (I wish I had my dad's, but he and my mom are in Idaho for a week visiting their best friends), but if I make anything, I'll try and take pictures and post them.

Uncrossed! (Update)

HE GOT THE JOB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

He goes in Thursday to get it set up, do the paperwork, etc. We don't know for sure if it's the part-time or full-time position, but we think it's the full-time. And the guy (Dave) said they'll be paying him more than originally thought. They had thought ten an hour, which is amazing. He's making 8.50 at Best Buy right now. 8.50 is the normal pay for the position, but they give an extra 1.50 an hour for the overnight. So it'll be more than ten an hour. I was living on my own in CO (higher cost of living) on 11.11, even though it was a struggle, so our incomes together (even though mine isn't much) should be enough to finally start saving to get out of my parents' house. And if I get a job at St. Jude's, that'll be even better. No more parents! We get to be grown ups!

Fingers Crossed A Little Longer, A Little Tighter (Update)

He had his second interview at five today. We'll hear back within two days. He says it went well. The guy is expecting a little girl soon, so they have that in common. Fingers crossed. Oh, and the full time position does include benefits.

Torn

A little torn.

Erik and I were talking about marriage again last night. I have nasty depression, only made worse post-partum, and it's struck hard this week. One of those times was Thursday night. We ended up fighting and I ended up self-harming a little, just causing myself pain. It's an old habit from high school that I had pretty much overcome. It's not a big deal, no one freak out. It's not even the focus of this post.

I'm working on it. And Erik knows about it. What I'm trying to get to is the discussion we had last night. We started talking about marriage again, which we had discussed Wednesday when he got the first interview. I asked him if Thursday night's events had made him doubt at all if he wanted to get married, or wonder if we would make it on a forever basis, or if he could handle being with me (I've got issues, dude), or anything like that. He told me no, all couples fight. I pointed out that we never do (we seriously never do, but he actually raised his voice at me during our fight Thursday), and he pointed out all the stress we'd been under, which is more than simply being new parents. Then I asked the question again, asking specifically if my self-harming changed anything and he still said no, just that it scared him a little.

I didn't want to get into it too much last night, so I became more pleasant and up-beat and told him I wanted to call him fiancé. I want to have that. And he pointed out not having a ring. I'm not honestly sure how much that matters to me. I do want a wedding band, but I've never been big on diamonds. Blood diamonds and all. Maybe a pearl or a white sapphire. And while thinking about that, I remembered the claddagh ring I own. It didn't really fit while pregnant, of course, but it might now. So I hopped up and found it and put it on my left ring finger and showed him. He teased me and said, "Yeah, but that doesn't count. I didn't give it to you." And I told him it did count. But he kept saying, "It doesn't count." And I know that a) he's right and b) he was just teasing me, but it kind of hurt. I tried not to show it. I told him it didn't matter, I just wanted to be moving forward with him. He said bluntly, "It's going to be a long engagement."

That's where it really hurt. I don't think he knows how much that hurt. Instantly it ran through my head: Aren't we going to get married if he gets this job (and benefits)? I had told him, Wednesday, straight up that I don't care about having a ceremony. We could have a party in the backyard (it's a beautiful backyard) with our family and friends. I just want to go down to the courthouse and sign my name away. I just want to be married to him.

Plus, I need the insurance. I need mental health support and soon the Celexa will be coming out of our pocket - and the script expires in November anyway. He told me he didn't want to do it for that reason, that it cheapens it. Thing is, we need it. Plain and simple. And it wouldn't be us hurrying despite what I really wanted because of it - it'd be doing what I really wanted (hurrying) and using it as an excuse. I want this.

He said something else, though, something I honestly barely caught. He asked me, "Can't you let me be the man? Get the ring, take you somewhere romantic, surprise you?"

Can't I let him be the man...

Honestly, I hadn't thought about that. I didn't know he wanted that. I wanted a surprise proposal and a ring, but that doesn't really matter anymore. We have a kid. We have medical needs, too. It's important. So now I'm torn. I don't want to take away anything he wanted just like he doesn't want to take away anything I wanted. But doesn't the urgency justify it? If it can get me the help I need, isn't that what matters most?

So I'm torn. I want to give him what he wants, and I do want the ring and the surprise. I even want the wedding, but that's not important to me anymore. But isn't what we need to happen more important? How do I not rush him and take away what's important to him while still pulling off what's important? How do I balance all of this?

Fingers Still Crossed (Update)

He had his interview yesterday. Apparently it went very, very well. He's moving on to a second interview with the big guy. Also, because of his prior experience working nights at FedEx for eight years, the guy said Erik is their first choice - for the full time position! I'm pretty sure that would guarantee benefits - and a shiny ring. :)

And as yesterday was Thursday, there's another update I'm supposed to give. I got WIC set up for Ever and her formula and they weighed me and I was 237. A gain of four pounds. No good. But not gonna beat myself up over it. No pictures this week. I don't think I'll do those weekly, but I will try to weigh myself every week.

The end!

Fingers Crossed

Excited!

So Erik is in school to become a strength and conditioning coach, if he gets it. It's one of those hit or miss jobs, but if he doesn't have success getting with a team or anything, he can still have a ton of success working for a gym as a personal trainer or even opening his own fitness center. At least, I guess that's what his major leads to. XD It really is confusing to me.

He's been working at Best Buy in inventory for a while now. It's not great, but it pays the bills. Some of them anyway lol. He's been bidding on an overnight desk job at the local Lifetime fitness to get his foot in the door with a gym. He's been trying for months, every time something opened up. (It emails him when something at Lifetime opens up.) No luck. Then today we were on our way to his mom's house - Ever and I are going to hang here until he's off work because he works late on Tuesdays and she's going through an awful growth spurt, plus my own mom isn't home to help this week - and he got a call out of the blue from them. They want to interview him Thursday!

We need this so bad I can't even express it. We're barely scraping by, living with my parents. Neither of us have insurance. I got Medicaid while pregnant, but it expires six weeks post-partum and I'm not sure if I can get it back. I don't work enough to qualify for the Community Health Center for the working poor. He doesn't have any insurance and he has minor health problems and bad vision. He needs new glasses and contacts. He also has a couple cavities and I haven't been able to go to the dentist in so long that I've lost two molars from very old cavities. Yes, disgusting, I know. And to top it off, the most pressing problem is that I have depression and it's only been worsened post-partum. I need to get counseling and I only have a prescription through November for my anti-depressants. I'll have to pay out of pocket once Medicaid ends, too, and I don't know if I can afford that.

Plus we have a new baby. Thank God she gets TenderCare through the state since neither of us has insurance.

I'm also looking at a job that will end up with benefits because it's at St. Jude's. (A hospital, the children's cancer research hospital in Memphis if you haven't heard of it.) But I'm not cleared yet for work yet and it's still not guaranteed. Erik's mom works there and can get me in to talk to the guy, but it depends on if there's even a position open. If Erik could get this job, there's a chance he'll have benefits. Still, it's not technically full time, so I'm not sure if it will.

We're not married yet. I wouldn't have qualified for Medicaid as a family. I might qualify without being pregnant, so we'd need to stay unmarried. But if he or I gets a job with benefits, we can finally do it. Well, I say finally. We've only been together a year and two months July 1st. But it feels like ages and we had a kid together now. We were talking about it in the truck after his phone call. We both ended up grinning, but by the end of the conversation my face actually hurt from smiling. If he gets this job, and it does provide benefits like he thinks it does, we can get married, and we'll probably do it soon, rather than later. We'll probably just go to a courthouse. That way I can get the mental health care I need right away.

Though, if I don't qualify for Medicaid alone, there's no point in not getting married anymore...

This post has ended up much longer than I intended... I think that happens a lot with me. But I'm just excited and hopeful and trying to be optimistic. Cross your fingers for us!

I end this with an etsy listing for a beautiful and inexpensive wedding band set. I love stuff like this.

Silver Wedding Bands Set Hammered Silver Distressed Squares