These bangs, they are an adjustment.
I still have a sweaty forehead I tell you what, and I'm pretty sure we'll have to figure out something different for the summer because of it, I don't know if I thought if I'd glandurlaly (I made that up word up, can you tell?) matured out of it or what. Whatever I thought, I was wrong.
Things I realize from having bangs for 2 weeks:
You must likely wash and fix your hair every day... if you want to leave the house that is. If you don't than who really cares?
Bangs are a commitment, you must be firm in your commitment because clip on bang pieces look funny and a head band just won't cut it.
I probably should not have cut them myself, because while the front part is good, the side parts make me look a little like Tootie from the Facts of Life. Forget Yevgeny, Tootie is hot.
I think I wish they were a little longer so I could go for the side sweep every now and then. Thank you prenatal vitamins and Whobaby hormones for helping my hairs to grow extra fast to remedy this problem, except for my navel hair. That part I do not thank you for.
My mom likes my bangs. I feel so validated.
And that is all.
Do you have deep bang thoughts? Not that kind of bang you sickos, the hair kind.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
I hate a lot on the fact that I grew up in Wyoming.
HAHAHAHAHAH Wyoming... rural Wyoming, a one stop light town with under 2,000 people and the nearest Wal-Mart/movie theater a mere hour's drive away. Who grows up there?
Me, I did. Turns out, a lot of people do. Okay slightly less than the population of other states, but still, there are people living and raising children in Wyoming. And not all of them pseudo grow up only to stay there and repeat the process while still children themselves, but I will temporarily step off my small town need for extensive sex-education reform soapbox and attempt to finish the rest of this post.
I have a couple of siblings who LOVE Wyoming. Both of my brothers married Wyoming girls and return often. My sister and I on the other hand, married Utah boys and will probably be stuck here, and I'm not entirely upset about it either, for the rest of our natural lives. My mother is a born and bred Wyoming lover for life. Plus she still has like a half thousand people who are closely and vaguely and not even at all related to her who still live there, which is reason enough for Connie to drive that direction several times a year in order to strengthen family ties or join together with them in mutual celebration of their shared genome or whatever.
If Connie loves anything, she loves a reunion. A class reunion, a family reunion, whatever. It maketh no difference.
I am still resisting her military style interrogation and peer pressure tactics to influence me to return there in June for the big whoop di do "all class reunion" which just so happens to coincide with a family reunion, and also a celebration of my 10 year anniversary of saying sayonara to that sweet place (i.e. 10 year class reunion that no one has planned anything for so I'm not really sure what the point is anyway...).
Kalli, she says, all of your brothers and sisters will be there.
I see them all the time
What about your family? Don't you want to see them? All of your uncles and aunts will be there!
Mom, I SEE THEM ALL THE TIME.
It will be so fun! Why do you want to miss it?
Because driving 8 hours in a car with a 22 month old and a gassy husband while 7 months pregnant only to stay for 3 days in a dumpy motel with a kid who clearly does not sleep well in motels, dumpy ones especially, and then turn around to drive right back does not sound appealing.
It's not a dumpy motel! They've completely remodeled it!
Since I was there 3 years ago? Because it sure was a dump then.
Sorry Mom, I just have yet to hear a convincing argument. Plus the Hub just figured out that it wasn't only a class reunion and that extended family are involved. He went into the closet and had to breathe into a paper bag for a few minutes. This is what happens when you only have like 4 cousins and marry into a family where your wife can't even count all of hers because it's physically impossible, and also, ridiculous.
Generally I do not miss Wyoming. I like Utah. We have Super Target, as well as a plethora of outdoor options for my nature needs all within a days drive, and please don't let me fail to mention Sanpete County for the love of sheep and turkeys! Wyoming? There are parts I love, our ranch, the mountains, Shell Canyon. My town? Meh. The A&W? Best freaking root beer ever. That I miss. The rest, not so much. Also, Utah does not have drive through bars. I see this as a positive. If you're from Wyoming you would probably feel otherwise. Kidding, not really...
Am I being ridiculous here? I don't think so. Through the wonders of facebook I pretty much know what everyone's been up to since then so what do we have to talk about? Facebook has pretty much eliminated the need for me to ever attend any sort of reunion ever again, right? Maybe that's the only reason I need to keep my account active. Other than that, I could do without facebook too.
Tell me, if you were me and this was you, would you go and why?
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
I don't know whether to feel flattered or slightly miffed that so many of you "noticed" or "thought so" before yesterday. I mean a pot gut is not something completely abnormal for me to be sporting on a daily basis.
And here I thought I was being so sneaky. Apparently my high school basketball coach was right, I'm about as subtle as a bull in a china shop. Ah well, I knew I couldn't keep it to myself forever. Especially when all I can twitter or talk about is how hungry I am. But really, that's not too far left of normal for me. I'm a bottomless pit. This baby only makes things worse. Also, we have hereby dubbed this offspring "WhoBaby". So it is written, so it is done.
The childrens will be 2 years and almost exactly a month apart. Good timing? You tell me. I'm no expert at this thing. Of course I'm excited, but slightly terrified. One baby is a lot of work, I know that and I've said it before, 2 kids are no joke! Plus no more solo time with my Nublet and that idea makes me want to shed a few tears all alone in my closet. And we won't even talk about how expensive kids are...
But then I think about this time, or this one, or this one, or any of the choice moments, both good and bad, the last 2 years have held and just like the Grinch, my heart grows 3 sizes.
I know. I KNOW how great it is.
And that is enough to get me through all the rest I suppose.
Monday, March 22, 2010
I got really angry with him this morning.
So angry that I tried force feeding him yogurt (a technique that used to work many moons ago) which he promptly spit out while writhing in pain from an apparent poisoning attempt.
He won't eat. Well let me clarify: he won't eat anything that isn't juice, chips, crackers and whatever other kind of unhealthy junk he can scavenge from the cupboards. The first thing he asks for when he wakes up in the morning is juice and he continues to ask for it all day long. His diet is 90% liquid and 10% crap. He doesn't even like cheese. What kid doesn't like freaking cheese? It's UNAMERICAN!
Most days I can handle it, but today I snapped. I'm sick of chasing him down and asking him a million times a day "do you want a bite?" while waving a spoon piled high and dropping bits left and right all over the floor. I mean I know the dog appreciates it but hell, I'm about to lose my ever-loving mind. He's not starving, obviously, the kid weighs as much as a baby elephant. But, and you might find this offensive so quick, get over it, I'm afraid I'm raising a future fat kid.
What's wrong with fat kids?
High cholesterol before the age of 10 isn't something we should be celebrating or even tolerating. Maybe I'm all up in a fuffle because I watched Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution last night. I mean it was obviously tailored for the reality show crowd what with it's confrontational approach and lunch lady showdowns and whatnot, but his message is good. Americans eat crap. We feed our children crap. They grow up playing video games and eating more crap and eventually turn into overweight adults who sit in dark rooms eating takeout playing even more video games and touching themselves while talking online to people they've never met in some sort of weird alternate reality universe. Okay maybe that won't happen to everyone, but you have to admit, you know some people like that.
I'm not saying I want my children to be some picture of fitness and health or that I'm obsessed with proper nutrition or body image or that every morning I'm up at 5 am working out. I haven't "worked out" in like 6 months sadly enough and just for the record. That's not at all what I'm trying to say. I'm just saying I don't want my kid to die an early death because his colon was so lined with sludge that he couldn't poop right, er, you know... POOP IS IMPORTANT and not-good poop can kill you.
Really, poop holds the answers to all of our questions and problems in life.
I know, I know, it's a phase right? All toddlers go through it. But freak man, I'm ready for him to move on already. Eat some real food. Enjoy the wonder that is a delicious sandwich, or a fine plate of pasta, or some steamed broccoli. And berries son, berries are good! Get over your texture issues and eat some freaking berries!
purple crayon vs berries and I will pick berries every time
Quick, now someone convince the 19 month old.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
When I got on the first plane of the day this morning I was wearing a nice clean-ish white shirt. When I got off the last plane of the day to meet my sexy man/father of my offspring at baggage claim it was covered in various jibbies, skittle drool, twizzler bits and random treats instead. Nice huh?
But we made it, in one piece, and you know what San Diego?
I miss you, you sandy, sunshiny, taco-delicious treat of a town.
A few points of interest:
The Nub got his first fat lip from turfing it off a chair into a nearby parked wheel-chair. He freaked out when the frigid Pacific knocked him off his feet and then freaked out again whenever I took him near it. I left him with a non-family baby-sitter for the first time pretty much ever (an adorable teenager from Kari's church) so I could get my first pedicure since the day before I birthed the kid, he napped in a sweet beach house in La Jolla while I burned the crap out of my feet down on the shore, I took him into a club called "Voyeur" so we could partake of some delicious food make for us by Kari (she is chef magic I tell you) and then I fed him junk food the entire plane ride home to keep him from going ballistic on our fellow passengers.
Kid doesn't even know how good he's got it, right?
5 days of sunshine, 5 days of my bosom friend, 5 days of environmental therapy= happy happy joy joy
I'm back yo!
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
I've been dreaming a lot lately,
some of it weird, like really weird, like I tried to murder my mother with a meat cleaver in the middle of a random park in front of my dad in a sort of "Hunger Games" way kind of weird.
Some of it considerably less weird and more along the lines of what I want for dinner tonight (chicken tortilla soup), where we're going to move, again, how that's all going to work out, how fast will the next few months blow by, and for the love of muffins will my hair please grow back quickly and soon.
See, with me you will always get a semi-perfect yin and yang of complete crazy and perfectly normal. I'm a good mix, most days, other days it's more like 70/30. Those days you should probably just avoid altogether.
I'll be MIA the next week or so as the Nub and I trip off to glorious San Diego to spend time with a bosom friend and do things like eat waffles with peanut butter for breakfast, introduce my offspring to the beach, inhale some of the best Greek food with the gayest waiter this side of Hillcrest, catch up with my nanny kids 4 years later, see if I can get Shamu at SeaWorld to kill another trainer, what?? Okay not really but wasn't that a downright shame? There go my aspirations of SeaWorld trainer glory (I want to make a Scrubs joke here but am drawing blanks, SAD!). Maybe we'll go to the zoo instead and do a drive by of where I spent 3 months in internship hell with a supervisor named Marla who I'm 99% positive was Satan with ladyparts. And now, I bet you more than anything that I will dream about her tonight. Ugggh...
This March silliness will be over in a couple weeks and then glorious April in all her rainy/tulip glory will subtly remind me to back away from the sharp knives because life is suddenly worth living again and that's what I get for living in Utah in the first place.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
I don't even know why I'm watching in the Oscars
I've seen like 2 out of the 9 nominated for best picture and both were essentially cartoons so does that even count?
This is why they don't ask me to vote, because I would have gone with my tried and true college method and filled out my bubbles in a pretty pattern. Wicked. C's get degrees.
I haven't watched enough of it to properly mock everyone or everything that's going on. Except this guy that just won for sound editing who looks like a red-headed Edward Scissorhands, NO LIE! And his wife is Asian. Wow. I want to see what that produces. Or not... And Charlize, it looks like your boobs are channeling Princess Leia, the force is not with you, at all.
Also, does anyone else hate Zoe deSaldana? I mean I bet she's nice, but come one, her big movies prior to last year were "Crossroads" with Britney Spears and "Drumline" with Mr. Mariah Carey (sidenote, also my husband's favorite movie and oh how I wish I were kidding...) "Avatar" was better than I'd thought it would be but it was basically a very long political cartoon from the guy who brought you the sweaty car scene in "Titanic". Entertaining? Yes. Genius? Maybe the animators/cgi nerds.
Zoe? still meh.
Okay I'm done with talking about that.
On a more awkward note, somehow I came across the blog of an ex-boyfriend's now wife. Let me preface this by saying I've had roughly 2 what one would call "boyfriends" in my entire life because I AM AWESOME, obviously. Come now, you will recall my horrifically ugly adolescence and then after that I'm not really sure what happened. It's sort of a blur involving lots of bagels and chocolate milk purchased at the bookstore. But anyway, this boyfriend, HE was serious about it all. Me? I was 22 and sort of not. So you can imagine how that finally ended (*cough, NOT GOOD). I felt voyeuristic looking at their blog but was pleased that they looked happy and simultaneously weirded out that the wife was not only attractive, but somewhat oddly resembled ME, except younger and quite possibly thinner. I mean, maybe I'm just flattering myself here, but holy flashback batman.
I texted my friend about it and we both had a good laugh because man, life is weird right?
Later that day I was playing on the floor with my offspring who looks just like my husband (who loves to watch "Drumline", truth) and I got the warm fuzzies, because even though life can suck sometimes, and boyfriends come and go, things have a way of working themselves out just right enough.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Hey, we're still kicking over here. RSV it was, along with a double ear infection, PARTY AT OUR HOUSE! I'll bring the amoxocillan jello shooters!
Poor little Nubby, he's never been so sick. We've watched movies, played cars, took naps, steam baths, read books, drank juice, looked longingly outside at the almost spring-y weather, and that's about it.
I don't like it when my baby is a sad, sick little clown.
He perked up a bit this morning so maybe we might venture out at some point, I'm in danger of actually losing my brain if I'm stuck inside for one more day. Plus, 57 degrees is the forecast today, practically scorching. Where's my bikini? Oh wait, I burned it, for your sake. Yikes.
People, spring is coming. I can feel it. It might snow like 10 more times but I HAVE HOPE I TELL YOU.
And now I must shower, and maybe put on a bra,
or maybe not,
bras are overrated.
Monday, March 1, 2010
It's one of those days that makes me think that perhaps... perhaps God doesn't really hate me and that spring might actually show up sooner rather than later. I'd be out running around half naked (cover your eyes!) in these scorching sub 60 temperatures except the Nub is sick, sicker than he's ever been.
No one tells you when you sign up for this whole "raising children" schtick (and if they do you don't listen) that when your baby is sick you get all crazy and feel so powerless that basically you lose your ever loving mind. I wipe his nose, it drips again, he coughs all hackey and painful and starts to cry because it hurts and then a little bit of me withers up and DIES INSIDE BECAUSE I CAN'T DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT! I mean google searching symptoms can only get you so far... PLUS, the sun is out, it's semi warm, and I am openly understanding the irony behind the situation. Never complain Kalli, because you have no control over anything, ever, nope, not ever again. Likely, you never did in the first place. Zing!
My poor baby. Not only is he sick but he has a mother who is sick in the head, you should pity him. And me.
In completely unrelated news I want to see THIS so who's going to buy me a ticket to go with them? You? No? Whyyyyy???