Cup O' Joe

Elly is back on the sucky sleeping schedule again.  I swear that kid goes through sleeping phases like people go through fad diets.  (I don't diet, I just eat cookies.  Lots and lots of cookies!)

What does that mean for me other than my own sleepless nights?  It means my new health insurance company thinks I'm an insomniac for one.   I took a health assessment test for a $35 gift card to be used for medical expenses.  (Why the hell wouldn't I answer 100 questions about me for $35 free? Duh!) It asked how many hours of sleep I get a night, how rested do I feel when I get up for the day, and so on. 

What it doesn't allow for during the questionnaire is a place for you to fill in any kind of explanation behind it.  Like if I was a meth-head and was tweaking every night then of course I wouldn't get any sleep.  (But at least I'd get all the laundry done!)

But what about parents of insomniac kids?  There's no box to check for that.  So instead, I'll now get spammed with a million emails about how not sleeping enough has a poor effect on my health.  No shit.  Now if only there was enough time for a mommy nap time in a day and this wouldn't be a problem.

But yesterday afternoon was the icing on the cake for just how sleepless I've been the last few nights.  At work, I have a Keurig in my "office."  (I say "office" and not office because it's only got three walls and no door, so people can still come in my space willy-nilly whenever they feel like it.  Plus, since I'm a natural loud talker, they can hear pretty much everything I say.)  I drink a lot of coffee and the Keurig gets quite the daily workout. 

It was time for my afternoon cup o' joe pick-me-up.  And as I plopped the little k-cup in and watched the coffee stream into my cup, I realized I needed to up the ante a bit.  So I pulled out the canister of mocha cappuccino mix from the drawer and added a few scoops of that to the coffee for the extra jolt I was going to need to re-read the same story five times for copy edit mistakes.  (I lead a glamorous life!)  

As my coffee finished brewing I started searching for the blue lid to the canister so I could clean up and get on with my afternoon.  But alas, I couldn't find the lid!  (Mind you, the entire coffee making process was done from the comfort of my desk chair.  I didn't move more than 12 inches during the entire process to make this cup of coffee.  How the hell I misplaced the lid I have no idea.)  And as I'm standing up, spinning in circles, cursing myself for being crazy and not able to find the blue lid (I even checked my pockets!) a lady I'd never met before but needed to introduce myself to (and make a good first impression for because I'd be working with her lots in the future) walked in and saw me turning in circles on my own little crazy train.  My entire conversation with her was distracted by the fact that I couldn't find the blue lid to this damn canister!!! 

Finally, as I tried to shoo her away so she wouldn't see how crazy I was, I just got down on the floor and started digging under a cabinet in my "office."  And alas!  I finally found the lid... a GOLD lid.  Why I swore it was blue, I have no idea.  

Clearly, I not only needed my afternoon cup o' joe, but I needed to add another scoop of cappuccino mix to it.  Because my little insomniac is making me crazy!!!!   

Mama Gets a New Look

This week was quite the adventure!!!  Stoofy, Elly and I all had a blast in NYC.  As soon as we got there I hit the ground running and went straight to the hair salon for a brand new 'do.  Since getting out of the Navy, I chopped my hair off.  I just couldn't stand it anymore and I was tired of being Elly's makeshift pull toy.  But this new cut really makes me look cute.  I went from a really nice, edgy cut to a super cute bob that fits my face perfectly.  It doesn't hide my face fat, but it does a nice job of camouflaging it. 

Speaking of camouflage... Stoofy did a great job of adjusting to no camo.  But that doesn't mean he didn't make a few jokes about it to the makeover stylist!  He and I spent most of our time separated until the big makeover reveal so that we'd be surprised with what each other was wearing.  So apparently when he was getting his new outfit, he gave the women a handy fashion tip they even used on the show- if you want to hide all your fatty trouble spots, just wear camo!!!  So there's your Stoofy fashion tip!

Now, we didn't get a whole new wardrobe or anything like that, but we did get a nice outfit, plus a free trip to NYC, and a nice lunch out on the town.  So all in all, a damn good two-day trip!

My dress was a sexy little red and fuchsia number.  I NEVER would have picked something like that out for myself.  One, it was super form-fitting, so I tend to keep my fat ass away from that kind of thing.  Not to mention the colors looked like they wouldn't work together.  But after two pairs of spankx and the help of a giant shoe horn, I was able to stuff slip right into that beauty.  And wouldn't you know it, I looked awesome.  Because it was fitted, it gave my fat rolls a beautiful hourglass shape, the colors popped as vibrant as my personality and it was a gift from the Nate Berkus show.  Who wouldn't love that?!?!?! 

We didn't get to spend more than the 10 minute taped segment with Nate.  Which is a bummer, but his whole production staff were great!!!  They're just the nicest people ever and Elly just loved them all.  In fact, they all loved her too.  (I’m pretty sure most of them offered to kidnap her and keep her as the show’s mascot.  I doubt that’s legal.)  And she actually spent more time with Nate than we did!!!  He even gave her a shout out about how cute he thought she was and how the whole staff wanted to keep her during the show!  Now if that isn't cute, I don't know what is! #stealingmamasthunder #jealousstagemom

I think the most amazing (read scary, terrifying and I must be off my meds to do this) thing was that I allowed the stylist and Nate to tell the whole freakin' world that I'm a size 14/16.  That's right, I just did it again.  I told the whole world what my dress size is.  And honestly, it's not as scary as I thought it would be. 

Mainly because we talked about why my size is so hard to shop for and I realized I can't possibly be the only woman in the world who's a 14/16 and can't find clothes.  I'm a true 14/16.  I'm not a plus sized woman, my proportions aren't really plus sized.  Yes I have big boobs, and yes I have a wonderful layer of insulation around my mid-riff, but I'm not a plus.  I'm just an XL.

And as it turns out, major department stores only carry one 14 and one 16 in each style of dress in their stores.  Why that is, no one knows.  It probably goes back to everyone's supposed to be a size -4 to fit into the clothes they make for my hangers.  But that's why it's hard to find dresses and outfits for my size.  And it took the stylist 3 days to find my outfit.  I don't have 3 days to shop for anything.  Elly gets a little impatient and I don't even have the patience for that kind of marathon shopping. 

So there you have it.  I'm a sexy size 14/16 mama who broadcasted to the world that you can have fluff and still look hot!  You just need a team of hair and makeup specialists and a personal shopper to pull it all off.  So, I'm going to need each and every one of you to share with your friends this awesome blog, so that I can figure out a way to make a living just writing about my life and maybe sharing tips on how to cook, sew, craft and make sure you don't accidently step on your kid so I can have my personal dream team.  Someday this will all pay off.....

A Few of My Favorite Things

In the spirit of end of year review mania that seems to hit our country about this time every year, I figured I'd jump on board.  And as a side note: until I started working in news I never knew why every single tv, radio, paper, magazine, etc. puts out a best of at the end of the year... until I wanted some down time around the holidays too.  So what's the easiest way to create that for yourself around the holidays?  Just rehash all the shit you've already done and call it "new"s. 

Anyway, even though I've only been a part of the blogosphere since July (and I took that trip to Jupiter, aka fell off the blogging planet) I still feel like I've got some gems in my archives.

So here are a few of my favorite things (in no particular order):

1) Breastfed Thighs
I'll do my best to keep the positive about my thighs come the end of January.  That's inevitably when swimsuit shopping season begins and I'd much rather slice my left hand off with a circular saw than expose my thighs to the world (or expose the world to my thighs depending on how you look at it). 

2) What Did I Step In?
I feel like I step in a pile of shit every week.  Some weeks are shittier than others.  But this one just tops them all.  I mean, seriously.  What the hell is wrong with people?  Clearly advertising geniuses know how to plug their products with cute babies.  Because people will literally look past whatever shit you've got when there's a cute baby to look at instead. 

3) Got Milk?

This is actually a blog from my early days.  I hadn't really introduced everyone to Abby yet.  But I realized since I talked about her so much as a friend, that she just needed to be named and be a full-blown character in my daily crazy.  The main part of the blog really was word for word an email I sent her after being fascinated and disgusted by my cow-like ability.  And although I've stopped breastfeeding, I'm grateful for having endured that crazy shit for as long as I did for Elly.  She'd better be a grateful little kid when she grows up or else! 

 

4) Losing My Hair.. and Marbles

I still chuckle a little every time I read this.  And then the chuckles are drowned out by my tears of sadness over my awful hair.  I have had it cut into a nice, hot-mom cut.  So at least my hair is a lot more manageable than when it was longer.  And by the way, I STILL haven't found that freakin' calendar yet! 

 

5) Tinkling

I actually have to go use the little girl's room right now.  So I'd better stop what I'm doing and take a break or else I may have a code yellow alert!

 

6) In Search Of...

It still truly amazes me how your body completely changes when you're pregnant.  And then morphs into something completely different after the baby.  I'll never understand people (specifically insensitive asshole men) who say, oh you're just lazy that's why you don't have the exact same body after having the baby.  Uh newsflash dumbass, it doesn't work like that.  Not only am I searching for my ass, I also grew bigger feet.  No amount of zumba is going to fix that shit! 

7) Being an Adult Rocks!

I crack up every time I eat a deli sandwich now because I only think of windshield meat.  If you ever end up tossing turkey on someone's car and they eat it, please let me know!!!! And if you do witness that, I hope you scream at them "BEING AN ADULT ROCKS!!!"

8)BOOBS!

This is still one of my all-time favorites.  Because I am so impressed at how many different ways I could work the word boobs into the blog.  And because of that, I actually had a few people stumble upon my blog because of their key word searches.  Here's what can land you in Betty's world if you google it: "Big Milk Boobs," "Boobs," and my personal favorite "Boobs Rock the World."  Yes, yes they do! (PS, I'd love to know who googled "I'm not doing that" and found me!!!  LOL! What the hell aren't they willing to do I wonder!)

9) Vanilla Tuna

There are some people in this world you meet and never remember again.  And then there are some people that leave a lasting impression on you for the rest of your life.  The stinky girl in my Navy school is one of those people I'll never forget.... and I'm so grossed out by it!

10) Caught Red Handed

Elly just kills me some days.  Every day she's learning, exploring, and absorbing new information.  She amazes me... right up until she's caught red handed doing something shouldn't have done but has no idea that it was a no-no.  I clearly have a long road ahead of me teaching her important life-lessons.  And I feel like a lot of them are going to be really messy!

11) Pumpkin Pie and Jail Time

What's terrible about this pregnancy memory is that even though pumpkin pie is my absolute FAVORITE dessert and it's what I love more than anything for my birthday cake, I still haven't had a slice in 2011!  Sad :-( I better get on that before the year is over and I better make sure I don't go to jail getting pumpkin pie!

12)   That's Not Fair

The phrase "That's Not Fair" could quite possibly be one of the most famous sayings heard in my house growing up.  Either (or in my opinion, mostly) my sister or me would utter that phrase whenever we had felt slighted.  Our mother was very careful to make sure that things were as fair as you can make them for two completely different-minded children constantly at each other's throats.  So I feel like because of that, I have an obsession to try and make things as far as possible in the world when I can.  However, there are things that just can't be helped.  Like the fact that Snookie makes millions more than I do.

Well there you have it!  Betty's favorites of 2011.  I can't even imagine how exciting 2012 will be!  In just a few short months Elly will be a year old, Stoofy and I will celebrate our 6th wedding anniversary, I'll go on at least 12 tirades threatening to kick someone in their shins, and on top of that, I've got the regular comings and goings of life to chronicle. 

Please be sure to follow me on Facebook, become a fan of this blog, and most importantly TELL YOUR FRIENDS!  I am a narcissist and I need constant positive approval.  So the more people who like me, the better I feel.  JOKING, but not really.  Force your friends to like me if you have to.  It's fine, I completely approve of it!

And I'll have plenty more to add before the year is over... but until then, thanks for enjoying 2011 with me!

I'm a Little Crazy

I am a little crazy.  Well, I could be a lot crazy depending on the circumstance.  Take for instance pushing my buttons before I've even had a cup of coffee, let alone rubbed the crud out of my eyes in the morning.  Stoofy likes to do just that some mornings just to see the end result.  It usually means a fake fight develops into a real fight of epic proportions. 

I'm pretty crazy when it comes to things I'm passionate about.  Sports teams, fairness, my kid, my husband, my car, my ideals, morals and politics.  I can easily launch into a 10 minute tirade about almost anything if I'm passionate enough about it.  Even if I'm only half-ass passionate about a topic, I can still get pretty spun up about it.

This ability to go from 0-100EPM (emotions per minute) can be a great quality.  It can also suck too.  It's one of my many character flaws I'm not interested in changing.  I've just accepted it as my reality, toned it down a touch when necessary, and decided everyone else just needs to deal with it. 

If you're my friend, you're probably my friend because I'm crazy. 

Everyone needs a crazy person in their circle.  Everyone needs one of those crazy friends to stand on a table and call attention to you for your birthday.  Everyone needs someone willing to go out on a limb for you because you're too afraid the limb is too high, too flimsy and too dangerous for you to do it yourself.  Everyone needs a friend willing to purger themselves for you when you get caught burying the body. 

If you're my friend, you already know I'd do all of the above for you and then some.  If you are my friend's enemy, you should be warned.  Because I'm flat out nuts! Anyone that's been on the receiving end of a crazy Betty rant will tell you it's not the place you'd like to be.  The only thing less appealing would be if you were a Somali pirate who captured an American shipping captain and were standing in range of a SEAL's sniper scope. 

So to recap: I'm crazy.  Being crazy isn't always a bad thing.  That is, unless you're an enemy.  Then my craziness is just as bad as Kim Jong-Il.  You don't want to be nuked do you?

Shoot Me Now

Yup, just go ahead and shoot me now.  I won't mind.  I'll even write you a permission slip to the cops saying it was totally ok and I actually asked for it.  Because honestly, I'm so sleep deprived right now, I'd sign off on just about anything! (Except Stoofy buying a boat.  I'd probably kill him if that happened.)

The problem is that Elly no longer sleeps.  And when I say no sleep, I mean screams for an hour at a time throughout the night a couple times a night, every night.

And she doesn't really nap.  And when I say she doesn't nap, I mean she takes three 20 minute naps a day, tops.  If I'm super lucky, every now and then, she'll sleep (in my arms because the moment I put her down she wakes up wailing) about 40 minutes.  But those days are rare.

I don't get it.  This has been going on for about a month and half.  She was like this before moving, so I don't feel like it's because of the move.  She has the same routine every day, I am a pretty routine girl myself.  She's been trying a few new foods here and there, but she's enjoying them and her system seems to be processing them just fine. (Output is working just as well as her input!)

She has the exact same bed time routine at the exact same time every night.  At 7:00 PM she gets a bath, rocks together with either mom or dad and gets a bottle.  She sometimes drifts off with no problems, sometimes it's torture. 

And then the hell begins.  She'll sleep for a couple hours, then wakes up with night-terrors.  (Or whatever the baby equivalent is to night terrors.)  She startles herself awake and just starts SCREAMING!!!!

It's flat out awful.  Because there's absolutely nothing that will stop the crying.  She's not hungry, she isn't sick.  She just doesn't want to sleep.  I give her teething tablets for any pain, if she's got a fever from teething, I give her baby Tylenol.  Nothing seems to work.

It kills me to no end that she doesn't sleep.  Not only do Stoofy and I not sleep, it kills me that she doesn't either.  But what kills me even more is that she wakes up early and is always chipper.  Like a cartoon chipmunk chipper. 

She's laughing and smiling and it's like nothing happened.  I kind of think a gremlin takes over her body after 6:00 PM every night, and then evades her body by 6:00 AM.  I really can't think of any other explanation because baby night-terrors sounds even more farfetched. 

I mean, what the hell could cause a nightmare for a baby?  Flashbacks to birth? What else could there be?  And at what point do you even start dreaming in life?  And if she's dreaming, what is she dreaming of?  It's not like she knows what the lottery is, so she can't dream about winning it the way that I do.  So I just don't get it. 

Just like I don't get any sleep.  It's time to start stocking up on coffee for mumma and baby Unisom for Elly.  (That's a joke, I'm not actually drugging my child... unless someone finds a legal loophole of course.  Like I said, I'd sign off on just about anything right now.)

Locked Out Update

So, let's go back in time to the last week of my life.  I've been frantically moving out of my base housing and in with Abby.  Yup, Stoofy now has sister wives!  YAY!  (Except no hanky panky for him with Abby!)

So anyway, we moved into Abby's.  YAY!  And we got all settled.  Sunday night was our last night at the old house and I went back late into the evening to finish all the final inspection cleaning. 

Earlier in the day Abby and I had discussed how we needed a Harry Potter/ Mrs. Weasly clock.  If you're not an HP fan, it's a clock that doesn't tell time, but rather where all the members of the family are.  We need one because everyone has a funky schedule and we don't want to lock anyone out in the evenings. 

HAHAHA!  Funny because that same night, that's what happened to me! 

I had texted Stoofy at 9:30 saying I was wrapping up and would be home soon from the old house.  I got home to Abby's after 10 and everyone had gone to bed.  No biggie, except not only was the door knob and deadbolt locked, so was the top secret lock... the one that locks you out!

I took a moment to chuckle, thought long and hard about knocking or ringing the bell, but decided not to.  I didn't want to wind up the dogs and get them barking.  Because then that would wake the baby.  And I was too tired to deal with a crying child.

Instead, I just started texting Stoofy. 

10:40PM
 I'm locked out.  Wake up please!!!
Wake up please!!!
Wake up.
Please get this text message.
I'm locked out.
Come open the door.
I don't want to wake the baby.
By throwing rocks at the window.
Sometimes you sleep through everything.
I hope you wake up soon.
I don't want to wake up everyone by ringing the bell.
I'm locked out. 
Please wake up!!!
I'm LOCKED OUT!!!!!!!!
I wish you slept with your ringer on!!!!

Did I mention that my iPhone is awesome and can do everything... except make a call right now?! It's jacked up and hasn't been able to make a call in about 5 days.  So even though I tried calling Stoofy, it's only static.  And that's all he can hear.  And that's the voicemail I left him.

It's also the reason why I don't call Abby.  That, and the next day is her first day at her very first, brand new, grown-up job post military!  YAY! How exciting!  I wouldn't dream of waking her from her beauty rest before such a big day! 

Instead, I walk around the house, looking for sticks and small stones and start throwing them at our bedroom window.  Hoping to wake my husband.  No dice.

10:55 PM
To Abby:
I'm really sorry to wake you when you're about to start your new job tomorrow... However, I'm locked out.  Please come rescue me if you get this message.

More rocks at the window.  And a little loud talking through the open window.  Nothing...

11:05 PM
FB Update: FML, this day is ending just as sucky as it started. I'm locked out and everyone's phones are on silent. And I'm not about to ring the bell and wake Elly and make my life even more miserable. I guess I'll continue to throw rocks at the window and hope I don't break anything!

11:09 PM
To Stoofy:
Wake up!!!!!
I don't want to wake the baby.
I'm really cold and tired.  I'd like to sleep in a bed.

By this time I decide it would be a smart idea to try the patio door.  However, to do that, I have to wedge myself under the gate to get to the patio.  It's too high for me to climb over, so under is my only option.

I'm an above average round woman.  Squeezing through this hole wasn't hard, but it wasn't exactly easy either.  Check the sliding door.  NADA.

So I crawl back under, dig through the trash and grab some long pieces of crown molding that Abby threw out.  I then try to reach the window with them to knock on it.  I'm too short.  So I pull out the patio chair.  It's one of those tiny bistro set chairs that looks like it could barely hold me if I was sitting out there with my cup of coffee.  I climb up on it without a second thought and start banging away at the siding.  NOTHING!!!! 

Are you fucking kidding me? 

The neighbors are awake and can hear me.  I'm thinking I really hope they don't call the cops on me.  That would really fucking suck trying to explain this one.  Plus, I am working hard at keeping the title of my life "the child who hasn't gone to jail."  I'd hate for this to be the reason I go.  If I go to jail, I want it to be because I either ran over some liberal asshole, or because I stalked General Odierno a little too much.  (He's my military crush... I'm a dork.)

I take some pictures because it’s pretty fucking funny I’m still stuck outside. 

11:17PM

To Abby:

So... About that last text.  I'm still out here.  I've crawled under the patio door trying to get in that way.  It's Ft. Knox here.  I also started throwing rocks at the window trying to wake Stoofy.  No luck.  Here's hoping you'll see this.  If not, I hope you have a HUGE chuckle on your first day at the new job.

Still, no one is waking up.  I spend the next 20 minutes writing a blog, facebooking my perils and just having a good laugh. 

11:33PM
Blog update: Locked Out

11:35 PM
FB Comment update: I'm waiting for the baby to wake up because she's hungry. And seeing as I'm the only one in the house with a food supply strapped to my chest, someone should eventually notice.... Or tonight could be the night she sleeps through the night. In that case... FML.

11:40PM
To Stoofy:
I'm going to the jeep for a bit.  I really hope you wake up.
I'm parked next to the truck. I hate my life today.  This sucks more than you can know.  I'm laughing pretty hard though.
It's pretty funny overall.
For the LOVE OF GOD WAKE UP!!!!!!!!
And check your phone!
Ok, I tried rocks again.  Nothing.  I'm back in the jeep.  Next to the truck.  I'm going to hate life tomorrow.

If you're wondering why it is that I didn't just ring the damn bell or knock on the door.... I had already committed to this line of reasoning.  I had already decided that waking the baby up wasn't worth getting inside faster.  It was more worth making sure she slept through the night if she could than me sleeping in bed.
I am terrible at reasoning when I'm sleep deprived. 

12:11AM
To Stoofy:
I guess you'll eventually realize I'm not there when you wake up in a couple hours for work.  Let's hope she sleeps in today.
I'm pretty sure I'm going to want to kill myself at some point today.  I need sleep.
Please look at your phone!!!

Now I've got the heated seats running and I'm napping a bit in my car.  Still holding out hope that the two people I live with that both say that they're light sleepers and wake up in the middle of the night for everything, finally wake up to the sound of their phones vibrating from my text messages.  But not so much.

At 12:37AM  Stoofy finally wakes up and sees I'm not there and tries to call me.  But alas, he only hears static.  Seriously world?  What the fuck did I do to deserve this?  I text him back:

I'm coming to the door now.  Let me in please.  The front door. 

He let's me in.  Baby's crying.  My dog is going a little nuts.  He says to me, what took you so long at the old house?  Seriously?  I've been fucking locked out for 2 hours.  I've been texting you and calling you all night.

S: I only have 3 texts from you.
B: Uh, try again! You have like 50.
S: Oh, yeah.  Sorry.  Why didn't you just ring the door bell or knock.
B: Because I didn't want to wake the baby.
S: Too late, she's crying right now.

12:49AM
Abby to me: Hello?
B: Well, I'm in the house.  Elly woke up Stoofy and he figured it out!  I'm good and I just got in.  Have a great day at work!!!
A: We SO need a system!  I'm sorry!!!
B: I'm crying I'm laughing so hard!
A: BF just called me.  He saw it on your facebook!  He tried to save the day!
B:  That's so nice of him!
A: Hilarious blog though... at least some good came out of this.  No one can say you aren't a dedicated blogger now!

Talk about a great laugh moment! And I've learned my lesson: Just ring the damn bell because the baby is going to wake up anyway.  It's better to get it done and over with faster!!!!

http://lovelinks.freefringes.com/2011/10/18/lovelinks-27-open/?utm_source=feedburner

Pumkin Pie and Jail Time

Fall is by far my favorite time of year.  I love the cooler weather, the clothes, the sights and sounds, and most importantly I LOVE the food.  Fall food means the best of the best: squash, pumpkin anything, apple pies, and the big kahuna: THANKSGIVING DINNER! It's like a fat kid's delight! 

And this time of year brings back a very strong memory for me.  It's something that I did about this time last year.  I'd like to say it wasn't me, but then it wouldn't make for a very funny blog.  It's a little something involving pumpkin pie, my hormonal rage, and me... nearly beating a woman up and a punk-ass teenager. 

About this time last year I was about 4 months pregnant.  I had cravings, but my cravings consisted of people who had food needed to leave my smelling radius because everything made me want to puke.  I was sick nearly every day until about the 6 month mark.  So the fact that one night I even got an actual craving that wouldn't pass after the thought of it made me dry-heave was a little extraordinary!

It was after 10pm and Abby had just left to go back to her place.  Stoofy was in Kuwait in the midst of his contract out there.  So I was on my own and I needed pumpkin pie.  And I mean NEEDED it!

So I climbed into bed thinking, I can let this pass.  If I fall asleep, I won't want it anymore and I'll be fine.  That lasted all of 5 minutes and then I climbed out of bed, put on something decent to go out in and hopped into my car.  I was on the hunt for fresh baked pumpkin pie.

I knew that being the end of September meant there would be pumpkin pie available. (It’s fall time for God’s sake!) I knew exactly what store would have it too.  Harris Teeter.  Because I had been there the day before and saw the pies lined up for display at the front of the store. 

At 10:10PM I arrive at HT and walk through the door.  I can't wait to get to the pies all sitting there waiting for me to snatch up and eat on the car ride home.  Except when I got there, they were out of pumpkin pies.  They had sweet potato pie, but everyone knows that's totally different.  Even if you smear it with whipped cream, I knew I would be able to tell the difference.

So I scoured the rest of the store.  I went through every pie in the bakery section.  Checked behind random loaves of bread just in case some jerk tried to hide one for themselves until they got off shift.  I'd show that asshole!  But alas, there was no pie.  I checked the freezer section thinking, ok I'll just find myself a Sarah Lee and pop it in the oven.  That bitch creates pies that take an HOUR to bake! Uh, I needed my pie fix immediately!

What's a hormonal pregnant woman to do?  Search the store and buy cinnamon rolls for breakfast the next morning, juice and lemon poppy seed muffins because they've got the best ones.  And that'll hold me over until I get to the next store.  I did pass the baking section and thought, damn, it'll take too long to bake my own pie.  I'll just go to Giant and get a pie there.

As I check out, the cashier asks if I found everything ok.  Uh no, you do you have any pumpkin pies left in the back? I'm seriously craving them and I want one. 

And the pimple-faced douche bag bagger turns to me and says, "I bought the last ones about an hour ago.  (ha ha) If you want a slice I'll sell you one in an hour when I go on my break. (HAHAHAHA)."

To which I respond, "Listen here you fucking asshole, I'm pregnant and I want a fucking pie now.  Don't be a prick and tease me."

I quickly paid and left the store before the manager, who was headed my way, could escort me out. 

Now I'm just pissed! I want a fucking pie and if I could figure out which car was that kid's I'd consider breaking in for a slice.  Then I decide going to jail tonight wasn't going to be the best decision... so on to the next store.

10:35PM- I arrive at Giant and make a beeline to the bakery section.  I leave no slice of pie unturned in my quest for pumpkin.  They've got cherry, apple, sweet potato, pretty much everything but pumpkin.  And nothing is going to do until I get a slice of pumpkin.  So I start sprinting (as fast as a pregnant woman can go) to the freezer section hoping I can find a pie that doesn't take an hour to bake.  But as I get to the freezer section I start to search people's carts as I pass them, hoping to find my pot of gold.

Low and behold, I do!  There is a woman with a pumpkin pie in her cart.  So I rush up to her in a panicked frenzy and ask her (in my mind it was with good, friendly intentions.  It came across as scary and abrasive) if I can have her pumpkin pie.  She says no.

I explain to her I am pregnant and I really NEED that pie.

She says no.

I dig in my purse, pull out a $20 and start shouting I'LL GIVE YOU $20 IF YOU GIVE ME THAT PIE! I'M FUCKING PREGNANT AND I NEED THAT FUCKING PIE!

She starts to walk away scared.  I take a few steps after her yelling... it did me no good.

Back to the freezer section.  And yes, they do have pies that take only 25 minutes to bake... but they’re all out.  I'm nearly in tears and I want to scream at the top of my lungs (which I already had at the woman with the pie). 

I storm back out of the store feeling defeated.  But across the street I see the hazing red light of a bulls eye sign.  FUCK YEAH! Target is open until 11PM tonight!  And it's only 10:50!!!!  I zip across the street and throw it into park.

I don't think I've ever hustled as fast as I did to get into the store.

I run to the freezer section and find a pumpkin pie, and it only takes 25 minutes to bake!  FINALLY, VICTORY IS MINE!!!  But it's a bittersweet victory.  Because deep down I know it's not going to be a great pie.  I know that with the time it took to track down this pie, I could have baked one in my house already and be sitting in my bed with a warm slice topped with crumb topping like I like and a dollop of whip cream on top.  But I don't fucking care.  I just want the pie.

So I purchase the pie (and vanilla ice cream… ala mode, DUH!), speed home and throw that sucker into the oven.  25 minutes later (plus the time it took to preheat the oven and the time it took to cool and set), I dish up my pie slice and dig in.  Only to find that it sucks just as much as I knew it would.

I go to bed even more pissed and in tears that I didn't have good pie, that I nearly accosted a woman and teenage kid.  And I'm even more pissed that I didn't just buy the ingredients and make my own pie.  Because now that it’s nearly midnight, going back to the store to buy the ingredients and bake another pie is just flat out CRAZY!!!!

Lesson learned: when you have a craving, it's just easier to make it yourself.  And it's less likely to get you arrested. 

The Art of Compromise SUCKS

The last few weeks since Stoofy returned home from Washington has had its ups and downs.  Just like every time we reunite after a separation, there's some getting used to and getting back into the swing of things. 

Mostly, it's a fight over compromise.  When we have to go our own ways for deployments (or this last time, he was our "advanced party" for our move west, which didn't transpire) we have no choice but to become independent of one another.  He has to learn to fend for himself when it comes to eating and doing laundry.  I have to suck it up and take out the trash and get the oil changed. 

When we reunited, it's a matter of relinquishing a bit of that independence and depending on one another to work as a team.  It's all about compromise.  And let's just go ahead and say it: I DON'T LIKE TO COMPROMISE. 

Honestly, what's the point when I'm right? (I should probably stop writing this if I ever have a dream of running for Congress some day... oh wait, no one there compromises either.  I'll fit right in!) I mean, who wants to give up the TV remote to watch another mind numbing episode of Family Guy when I still need to catch up on my RHWofNJ, RHWofBH, and Jersey Shore? Uh, not this Betty.

And if you ask Stoofy who's right during our 'disagreements' he'll tell you he's right.  So, there you have it... two stubborn, unwilling to compromise people... married.... FOR-EV-ER.  (How the hell did this even happen? Oh yeah... LOVE)

Our latest issue to find a compromise on: Elly's sleep patterns.  She's had a dedicated bedtime for about 2.5 months... until daddy came home and decided to put her to sleep when he feels like it.  And semi-dedicated nap times through the day? Yeah, those are long gone and nap time is when he feels like it. 

Now, I've tried to be flexible, I've tried to explain it's good to have a set routine.  Kids thrive on routine.  According to him, this is his routine. (It's like you can see the speeding train about to de-rail and yet, no one does anything to stop it.  You can see how this is about to work out, right?)

Ok, fine.  I'll give in.  Except, now the consequence is she wakes up screaming for an hour and a half at 2 in the morning.  And who gets the privilege of waking up, calming her down, and waiting for her to cry it out?  Me. Stoofy snores right through it all, since that's his contribution to the compromise according to him.  And each morning he wakes up wondering why I didn't come to bed.  Seriously? 

And this is why compromise sucks.  I hate it and I don't like to do it.  I want it my way damn it!  And I want some fucking sleep!!!! 

So here's my compromise to him: When she wakes up screaming tonight (because I know she will), I'll be elbowing him until he's awake, and he can come stand next to me and wait for her to fall back asleep (two hours later).  The compromise?  All three of us can be sleep deprived and miserable.  Because fair is fair!

I think it'll only take one night of that for him to compromise and see it my way again! :-)  Because if mama ain't happy, nobody happy!

Recuperation from the Military

Since joining the military in 2004, I've lived by certain standards because it's my job.  The things I've had to change or alter are things you (the non-military you) probably take for granted. 

My hair is a certain length because the best hair style to fit my face is an "in between" style that is too long to wear down in the military, but too short to pull up in accordance with military regulation.  So I can't have it.  I instead have a bushy rat's nest. 

My nails are a certain length because that's how long I can have them.  They aren't painted because what's the point if they can only be clear or flesh tone? (I actually remember the year they began to allow french tips in the Navy! THRILLING!!!) Might as well leave them be.  (Unless you're in the USMC and wearing your dress uniform.  Then you get the privilege of wearing red or shades of coral!  SNAZZY!)

I stopped wearing earrings because it was too hard to find the specific ones I could wear in uniform in my jewelry box.  And finding regulation earrings isn't exactly an easy task.  (Yes, there's even a regulation for the size and type of earrings you can wear!  There's a regulation for EVERYTHING!!!!)

I've never been too adventurous in the eye shadow department, but even if I had, there's no point to it... plain jane is what I can wear.

Men's boots and shoes are my every day accessory to my khaki top and black slacks.  I couldn't tell you if big belts or skinny jeans are 'in' this season.  But I can tell you the exact measurement from the shoulder to the bottom of your service ribbons and name tag.  And if you don't have your warfare pins correctly measured, I'll call you out on it. 

Last night with Abby and my new Canadian friend, I had a revelation!  I seriously need a full recuperation from my service.  And I'm not just talking about Veteran Affairs compensation for various disability ailments.  I mean, I deserve a military funded make-over to prepare myself to be in the world of NO REGULATION!

I mean, other than no white after Labor Day, no ICP (Insane Clown Posse, aka Freaks) clothes other than on Halloween, and spandex is a bad idea for EVERYONE, there doesn't seem to be many rules when it comes to fashion.  Or maybe I'm just naive.  Maybe there are rules and I don't know them.

I'm pretty sure one of the rules is don't show up to an interview with gnarly man-feet.  That's probably going to be a problem since I have man-feet...they're crusty, dry, and cracked.  The nails are hap-hazardly polished.  I have calluses that ordinarily you wouldn't see in boots, but now that I'm about to enter the working world and I have to wear pretty shoes, I'm going to need to get filed off.  Pedicures will be required.  It might take an industrial team... or hungry fish.  (If you haven't seen the pedicures by fish, check them out.  Nothing says 'I want to feel pretty' like getting eaten by fish!)

I'm going to need an entire head treatment too.  We're talking deep conditioner, full cut and style, and whatever face potions can help erase the decade worth of worry lines I got in half that time.  Not to mention I'm going to need some de-brainwash treatments to get all the damn rules and regulations out of my brain and make room for whether argyle socks, leggings or tights go best with my outfit for the day. 

I HATE RUNNING

I don't think the title of this blog does my feelings justice.  I truly fucking hate running.  I would do just about anything else.  Actually there is only one thing I'd rather do less than run, and that would be go to work at my current military job. 

So if you're keeping tabs, here's how it goes from LEASET to GREATEST things I'd rather do with my time:
10) Report for military duty
9) Run
8) Get my legs cut off by a dull butter knife
7) Lose an eye to a red-hot pitchfork
6) Have each and every fingernail pulled out one-by-one by a Viet Cong prison camp dictator
5) Drink my husband's weight in melted butter
4) Drink my weight in milk
3) Eat salads five days a week
2) Eat oreos for every meal
And ultimately, 1) I'd much rather just wake up and magically be skinny.

But needless to say, if I'm ever going to get my perky ass back without having a baby in the next few months, running is my best option.

Why am I running?  I actually would really like to join a roller derby team.  But to do that, I actually need to be in some kind of shape other than round.  And I'm not nearly ready for wheels yet.  So I'm trying to set some attainable goals to get to the derby queen goal.  First up... run even just a little, then run a 5k in December (granted, it's a Hot Chocolate 5K.  So after I complete it I get a hunk of chocolate.  Good enough motivation for me!)  Prove to Stoofy (and myself, honestly) that I can set these goals and achieve them, buy a pair of skates and find a Fresh Meat club and get skating!!!

So, I've put on my big girl pants (literally) and my running shoes and got my ass moving.  Here's what I've learned in the last few nights of running:
1) It's fucking dark running at night.  You'd think that running on base would provide some better lighting, but you'd be wrong.
2) Frogs or toads or whatever the fuck is hoping alongside me on the sidewalk are gross and scary and need to stop following me.
3) I run as fast as my 79 year old grandmother mall-walks.
4) I am a little bitch when it comes to running.  And I run with a constant monologue of bitching, that and the sweet motivational tunes of Ke$ha.
5) Running past the wounded warrior transition barracks makes me feel guilty about being a little bitch, so I suck it up and run faster.
6) Constantly going through the list of things I'd rather do than run helps take my mind off of the running.
7) I hate the assholes I see with 26.2 stickers on their cars.
8) I'd really like to slash their tires.
9) But if I did that, then I'd have to stop running and then I'd never keep going.
10) Lucky for those assholes!

 So if you see a crazy ass woman "running" down the road in the dark with her glow-in-the-dark safety belt, talking to herself, yell something motivational.  But if you've got a "I <3 runners" sticker on your car, I'll probably flip you the bird because I fucking hate running.


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Losing my hair... and my marbles

Before I got pregnant I had read that pregnant women have beautiful hair.  And for me, that was true.  My hair became so shiny and lustrous! It was beautiful and felt amazing!!!  I was already "blessed" with thick hair, but once I got pregnant, it was like I had a fortress of hair it was so thick!  And I couldn't stop petting my own head.  I must have looked like a freak, or P.Diddy stroking the furry wall.  Either way, my hair was gorgeous!

What the books forget to mention is that after you have the baby, all your hair falls out.  And when I say all your hair, I mean ALL YOUR HAIR!  Every day I find myself checking to make sure I don't have a bald spot where I just brushed.  My shower looks like Big Foot just got attacked by Edward Scissor Hands.  It's bad.  I've gotten to the point where I just collect all the hair in a little giant ball, rather than let it go down the drain because otherwise we're going to have a huge pluming problem! 

And then when I get out and actually brush my hair... forget it.  It's everywhere.  I feel like the sad, pathetic duckling that's molting and thinks it's the ugliest thing on the planet.  The problem is, I'm pretty sure I'm not about to emerge as a swan.  My swan hair was during pregnancy.  This whole ugly duckling thing is going in reverse for me and it sucks. 

On top of the "Great Shed of 2011" I'm also starting to grow some of the hair back.  So now I have all these crazy, wispy hairs that are half curly, half straight sticking out of my head everywhere.  They almost look like wayward pubes.  Sick! I have pubes on my head!!!!

To top it all off, I'm also losing my mind.  I also read during my pregnancy that women usually get "pregnancy brain" and can't remember things.  And I was told that this usually lasts for awhile after the baby is born, or can possibly be permanent.  Terrific!  So not only am I losing my beautiful hair and growing pubes instead, I also can't remember why I'm so upset about pubes.  Or remember where I just put the check book that's sitting in front of me, or remember that I have an appointment at some point sometime this week somewhere for some ailment that's been bothering me but that I can't remember what it is for the life of me today.  And the calendar I was doing so well at tracking everything in? Yeah, I have no idea where it's at so I'm now completely lost. 

If this is what it's like to get old, just shoot me now.  If it gets worse, I don't know what I'll do.  Actually, I probably won't do anything because I won't even remember that I'm upset that I can't remember.  What really worries me is what happens if I have another baby?  I honestly don't think my brain can take another blow like that.  I know my pube-hair cant!  Could you imagine molting pube-hair? Good God! What grows back to replace that crap???  I can't even begin to imagine! 

If I would have known I was going to be losing this much hair and my marbles, I probably would have invested in wigs and post-it notes.  Ahhh, the things my mother, and pretty much every other woman on the planet that has a kid, forgot to tell me about.  Elly just better behave during her teen years, or I might just forget to tell her these important facts!  Enjoy your swan hair while you've got it because it'll turn into pube-hair, and you'd better get a good calendar/ post-it system in place and attach it to your body if you ever plan on remembering anything after you have a baby kido!!!!

Until later
~Betty