Last Splash

The gene pool could use a little Chlorine.

Why Marriage Sucks Sometimes...

I warn you, this will be more like a diary entry than a blog post. I just need to let my feelings pour out right now and this is the only truly anonymous vehicle I have to do it.

My husband is a sissy. I can't even tell you how upset and frustrated I am right now, because his decision making ability is severely hampered and his sense of timing is impeccably stupid. We've been talking about having kids, when we wanted to do it, when we would start trying for over two years now. For christ's sakes, we've talked about baby names for alomst four. We've been trying for two "cycles" now, and on the last day of my ovulation this month, when I was hoping to spend the latter part of our evening at home seducing him, he has to start a conversation about why he doesn't think we can afford kids. Jesus F-ing Christ...could his timing be ANY worse? First of all, if two people who own a home around the American Median Value and make a combined income of about $70K a year (and that's with me in a starter-level position with the next promotion fetching a raise of 5-10K) can't have a baby, who can, really? Second of all, could he NOT have HAD this conversation with me oh, about six months ago, when we sat down and looked at our debt and savings and picked out a month to START TRYING? And finally, does he not realize that toying with a woman's emotions while she's ovulating and hormonal is bad enough, but to do it when last night they made love and looked into each other's eyes and laughed about "maybe that was the time that did it" and the next night he looked at you and said "why did I marry you?" is just murder? What the HELL is wrong with him?

I should have seen this coming. I mean, this is a person who takes ten minutes to decide what to order at the FREAKING WAFFLE HOUSE. I should have known that he can't just take a leap this big after merely talking it over for years, that he would need a Power Point presentation on how much diapers cost and the current inflation rate of onesies. I should have called ten different daycares in my area and made a graph of the average cost of childcare in a week, as well as compared that with how much of my income would be spent on childcare versus the benefits of staying at home and not working (not happening b/c the State of NC offers the worst Health Care rates EVER for spouses and family). I should have realized that he would need to hold a focus group discussion of ten parents in our neighborhood as well as know their yearly income compared to their monthly mortgage payment. Had I done all of this ahead of time, I could have spared myself the drama of me screaming "well, let's just hope I'm not pregnant yet " while waving the toilet brush at him. (I like to clean when I'm angry...don't ask.)

Anyway. I'm sure now that things will just be swell in our household for the next week or so. I have basically been pushed to the edge by this, and I'm now second guessing everything about our relationship. Maybe because it's all fresh and new in my mind right now, or maybe because I feel like no matter what I do things are just not going to move forward. I didn't even want marriage or kids before I met this person, and now he's proving that maybe he's the one having a hard time committing to the house we bought a year ago and the idea of raising children. Who knows? All I know is that typing this is keeping me from hopping in the car and buying a pack of cigarettes, which is what I really want to do. So, sorry for the raw emotion.

 

posted by: Cannonball14 at 03:12 | link | comments (2) |
childbearing

So, no news yet. I have to admit, it was a little disappointing when my "visitor" came last month. (A full DAY late, no less...bastard.) But, hey, it's still fun to try.

I am so tired of people with kids (especially young or old ones...people with 5-12 year olds seem to keep their advice to themselves a little better) telling me how much my life is going to change once I do get pregnant. Hello, I'm 29 years old. I've thought this through. I know my body will change, I know I won't sleep for at least three months for more than four hours at a time (and that's an optimistic estimate), and I know that lying on the couch watching an America's Next Top Model rerun while saying to myself "I'll get to the dishes eventually" on my day off will soon be a thing of the past. It kind of already is anyway. The 9-5 job has been a good transition to make while preparing for kids. No more watching old CSI's on Spike until 3AM because I knew I could sleep until 10 the next morning. These are things that I know will change...I'm as ready for them as I can be! So quit trying to talk me out of it and just let me enjoy this phase in my life...

posted by: Cannonball14 at 20:05 | link | comments |
childbearing

Guess who's coming to dinner?

So, my granmother is in this rehab facility that is about five minutes from my father-in-law's (and wife's) house. The same father-in-law and stepmother that say "call us anytime...we miss you guys" at the five family events we manage to see them at each year. So, Sunday around 4PM we call, get the machine, and leave a message saying we're on the way to visit grandma and since they're so close we thought we'd see if they had dinner plans or not. Twenty minutes later, we get a call back, and they say "why don't you come by for dinner?" Okay. That's cool...usually when we call last minute the response is more like "well, I think we're all settled in for tonight, bud" at like, 7:30. (Have I mentioned that my husband's brother was always daddy's favorite growing up.)

Anyway, as we arrive later, John says, "oh, cool, Karen's here (senior in college stepsister)...and Eric, I guess (24 year old sepbrother)...and...J and J?" (J and J would be John's brother and his wife with 9 month old baby.) So, we walk in and J and the baby are all sprawled out on the living room floor, the table is set all fancy and stepmom-in-law has baked a pie and roasted a chicken and obviously, cooked a dinner for the rest of the family that was planned much earlier than 4PM. Obviously, our gut feeling that all the "call us anytime...we miss you guys" are fairly insincere, seeing as how we were the only siblings living in town that were not invited to this get-together. (In fact, Karen actually said, "I didn't know you guys were invited!" to which I promptly replied "oh, we weren't...we invited ourselves, apparently...")

So, that was awkward...

posted by: Cannonball14 at 19:08 | link | comments (1) |
childbearing

The Olympics...

So much is being made on TV and blogs about the Olympics and whether the gymnastics judging is "fair" or not. As someone who is proudly capitalist and believes personal responsibility is the ideal way for a human being to acheive their goals, I must say I have let go of the scores, and decided to be happy for our American gymnasts.

Shawn Johnson is a great example of someone who has worked hard most of her life to compete for a medal in the Olympics, and although she didn't win a gold (yet, I haven't watched the balance beam) I know that she is still an A-student at home that will graduate high school, go to her prom, be with her family, and has unlimited possibilities to acheive anything she wants within or outside of gymnastics. She couldn't win the gold for her team, but who did? A bunch of "16 year olds" who were lucky they even survived birth in a country where each family can only have one child, preferably male, were taken from their families at the age of 3, put through tremendously painful training, called their parents begging to come home only to be told they had to stay and honor their country, and possibly threatened with consequences we can't imagine if they were to return home after screwing up.

The Americans should be happy that we keep winning in an age where other countries are putting increased pressure on their gymnastics programs to succeed. Our gymnasts don't have the kind of normal life that we do, but yet they know they can go to the Olympics, do their best, smile at the end, and no matter what the result come home to a country that accepts them as human beings. There is no dissection of how much time they spent training in the last four months; that maybe they should have skipped that one hamburger or lost five more pounds or added one more tumbling pass to their routine or not gone on that vacation with their families back at Christmas. We're just proud that they made it to that level and are coming home with what, at least 6 medals? Who can't be proud of that?

So, let's quit our complaining about scores and just be proud that we live in a country that doesn't force anyone to compete when they don't want to, and rewards our Olympians for being the best in our country and respresenting us with smiles and excitement about the sports they're competing in. I, for one, would let China win all the medals in the world if it means that I can be free to speak my opinion wherever and whenever I want. And that means being proud of every American athlete that has sacrificed what I wouldn't to become one of the greatest in the world.

posted by: Cannonball14 at 21:03 | link | comments |

Guss what? I'm not restricted from this site! Yay! So I'll actually have time to catch up on everyone's news, musings, and gossip.

So, of course, no news yet on the baby thing. Between watching child-labor stars win gymnastic gold in the Olympics amid reports of how they called their parents and wanted to quit but they weren't allowed (probably because the Chinese government would have burned them at the stake if they let their country down), and spending two hours every other night in the hospital with my ailing grandmother, it's hard to find the energy and the drive to get in the mood some days. But we are giving it our best shot!

I also sent a kitten to certain death yesterday by calling animal control to come and get it. Now, I hate the idea of euthanasia, but I believe in sparing the life of horrible suffering in pets as well, so when a tiny 12 week old kitten showed up outside the building I work in, I tried to make friends. The only thing I could find to feed it from the community fridge was applesauce (choices: Killian's beer mustard, chocolate pudding that expired in 2007, light yogart that had aspartame in it, and applesauce) and I realized when I took that to it that the poor baby was blind in both eyes, with an infection so severe in one that it was literally outside the socket and completely yellow. So, I sent it to the shelter. I cannot have a cat at my house, and I know the chances of the shelter putting as much money into the care as this cat would need are slim to none, so I'm sure it was gassed, but at least I can hope. Who knows? Maybe some volunteer vet tech fell in love with it and took pity enough to adopt it. That's what I'm going to tell myself.

posted by: Cannonball14 at 20:36 | link | comments |

She makes her return. No, seriously, I have not found another blog life or anything like that, I've just honestly not been inspired. And, I have a job where I haven't checked, but I'm pretty sure this will be one of those sites where I get the "not an acceptable website" message from my IT department if I go here. So, once again this may be sporadic at best, but I am giving it a try.

I want to have a baby. Seriously, that's the next logical stage in my life, right? Geez, I never thought I would be 'that girl'. The one that gets married, buys a house, gets a dog, and then wants kids. I thought (and a lot of my close friends and family thought as well) that I would move away, be single for a while, meet some foreign man, adopt African babies, and so on and so on. But life had different plans for me, and here I am. A Southern landowner with a good old boy husband living in what our realtor referred to as a "country subdivision". (No, seriously, I mean that...)

When women talk about their biological clock in movies and TV and books and magazines, you may say to yourself "that's a bunch of bullshit". But it's not. I'm sure there are some women who never experience it, because they've made the personal decision not to have children, and that's fine (I thought I was one, actually), but for the rest of us, strange things happen. We get upset when our monthly cycle starts. We watch parents in public with their children with the kind of misty-eyed, sappy expression that is usually reserved for those Hallmark movies, the ones where a stranger steals your baby. We actually stop being annoyed when at every family event we get asked when we're going to have one. We don't mind holding a crying baby anymore, we jump at the chance to change our niece's diapers, and we offer to babysit on our paid holidays off...for free!

Most of all, though, for me personally it's the feeling that I am ready, that this is the right time in my life, that I have carefully prepared myself and my body over the last six months. I can imagine myself with much more than just a baby...I can imagine myself raising a child who is 3, 6, middle school, dating, the whole nine yards. And now, it's finally time to start trying! It's very exciting. During grocery shopping day last week, I picked out my last six-pack. I debated over my selection as carefully as if I were a death-row inmate choosing my last meal. I overlooked a few of my favorite stouts because it is the sweltering part of summer and that's just a little too heavy. I wanted something expensive, light, refreshing, something that feels like a treat. I settled on Hoegarden, from Belgium. I highly recommend it. I've got 5 to go this week and I'm in the clear. After that, well, I've never been one to spare many details, and I've always used this blog as a space for my personal thoughts, so I will warn you: adult content may follow in the next year.

 

posted by: Cannonball14 at 22:28 | link | comments (1) |
childbearing

How I am feeling today about...everything, really...

I love my life! Seriously, I always thought of myself as the free-spirit, the independent, the career woman, and I am turning out to be so far from what I thought I would be. I love working a normal schedule, knowing I can make weekend plans for any weekend and not have to ask everyone on my staff for permission to go to a football game. I love Friday nights...love them! I love coming home from work about the same time as my husband every day and the two of us playing with the dog together, grocery shopping together, cooking together. I love making sure my kitchen is clean after dinner each night. I love cooking dinner at home more nights than not, eating at the table, and eating between 7 and 7:30 every night. I feel like a better wife, like the house stays cleaner and we share chores more evenly and our routine is WORKING! We have argued less in the last three months than our previous six years, and that's with the strictest budget we've ever had. I love the fact that yesterday marked a month since I quit smoking and not only have I put it down cold turkey like I never started, but I've LOST six pounds. I'm proud that my husband and I have cooked at home more and actually finished our leftovers instead of letting them go to waste. I'm proud that I've only eaten out for lunch 7 times in the last month, and I haven't bought coffee once.

In other topics, I'm sick of the Patriots, of political news anylysts making sure that Americans will never really know why they're voting for a particular candidate, coverage of stupid celebrity news like normal size people being photographed in bikinis and called fat, being unable to pay the balance on our credit card for the first time since we got married, Time Warner Cable and the dread of having to call them this week to argue for a better rate, not having as much time to check out the computer as I used to, arguing over the TV now that John and I work the same schedule, cold weather causing the highest electric bill we've ever had, not being able to buy the tenderloin steak that the butcher had just cut off the bone the last time I bought ground beef, and eating more chicken. But, I like Canadians more than I used to. That's a change...I hope I have time to share more with you.

posted by: Cannonball14 at 02:59 | link | comments (2) |

So, apparently, all my talk about not having a redneck Christmas was empty. On Sunday evening, I showed up at my parents' house for the Big Johnson Christmas to find one aunt (the one that married in) crying and another aunt (the one that is head of the family since my granny died) consoling her. They spent an hour moving from kitchen table to couch, speaking in hushed voices and making everyone else feel uncomfortable for either eavesdropping (which I do naturally and very well) or ignoring them.

Finally, almost two hours late, one of my cousins arrived. (The oldest son of the cryer.) And he brought his four month old daughter and her mother with him. I phrase it that way because the mother and my cousin are not married, or engaged. I'm not actually sure that they are still dating. If they are, I don't think they want to be. In any case, my aunt starts shooting dirty looks to anyone in the family that shows any attention to the baby's mother (let's call her Pam) and when my cousin asks if aunt Shelley* wants to hold the baby, she replies "damn right I do". So, he starts to hand her over, and Shelley pushes the baby away and mutters "she's crying. I know what a crying baby looks like". Apparently, after you raise 5 kids you are no longer able to hold a baby that's crying. I thought it might make you more comfortable, but what do I know?

Pause...to be finished tomorrow...

Okay...one month later...I've held you at bay so long you probably don't want to hear the rest of the story anymore, so I will make it short and sweet...

So, Pam, who has obviously been feeling her baby's daddy's mama's tenseness for several months now, jumps out of her chair (remember, she has just met my entire extended family) and grabs my cousin's arm, saying "Let's Go...I don't have to take this..."

Well, the next thing any of us know, Aunt Shelley and Pam are having an extremely cold, extremely uncomfortable argument in the foyer with my cousin standing in between them trying to man up, saying, "let's go out side right now and talk about this, leave the children here..." (By children, I mean Pam's two older kids, by different fathers, and apparently she's still married to the oldest one's dad...) And then Aunt Shelley crosses the line. She leans down and grabs Pam's arm while she's trying to fasten the baby into her carseat and says in her best self-righteous born-again Christian sneer "look here, missy, I've got something to say to you..." and out of nowhere, my Uncle Ray, the most Gentle of all of the Johnson men (and the least likely to use physical force in any situation, mostly because he's the only sober one) comes from nowhere across the living room and grabs Aunt Shelley's arms and pins them behind her, trying to force her through the front door. (It has been determined since that it was because he wanted the whole mess to be taken outside instead of his family embarrasing themselves at his big brother's house.) Well, when my cousin sees his dad hurting his mom, he jumps on his back like a crazed animal, and all four of the adults, two kids, carseat, and diaper bag are suddenly trying to hurdle through my parents' front door AT THE SAME TIME. You can only imagine what this did to the decorations...

In any case, spare the major details, this all spilled into the front yard with my mom saying "not in my house" and my aunt trying to jump in the middle, and my drunk cousin trying to break up the fight (or maybe trying to get into it himself, who really knows) and the rest of us standing at the front door watching in disbelief as son fought father and trashy ho girlfriend sat in the car staring straight ahead like this was EXACTLY how she had pictured Christmas with her boyfriend's family going down. It took close to an hour to get back to normal, and most of that was spent with all of us cooped up inside wanting to talk about it but knowing it wasn't appropriate while my mom and aunt tried to play go between with the two couples to get them to forgive each other and come back in to celebrate (NOT Happening, Duh).

And then we opened presents...

So, we got good and redneckity down in North Kack after all, ya'll.

posted by: Cannonball14 at 19:30 | link | comments (1) |

I have a rant, and I will apologize in advance to anyone out there that is a parent, since I am not. I am really sick of this new style of parenting out there, you know, the one that has everyone scared to do or say anything to their kids that may cause emotional scarring later in life. Let me clue you in: EVERYONE will have emotional scarring, no matter how happy and well-adjusted they grew up. By you giving in to your freaking kids on every issue under the sun, you are creating a person who grows up thinking everything will always be their way. And, if you raise your child in a vacuum-sealed bubble "oh, we don't want Jonny to get hurt...so we didn't let him try out for football...he was being bullied, so we switched schools...he didn't make the swim team, so we spoke to the principal and school board about being more inclusive" WAKE UP...your child will be scared to try anything. Okay, I'm collecting my thoughts because I'm coming off a little disorganized.

I've been stewing over this for a while, after seeing all the parents in the mall for years who make excuses like "oh, the kids won't let me shop for long". Well, lady, 'the kids' are 9 and 12, and I'm pretty sure you just spend a couple hundred on them at Abercrombie, so they can sit quietly in a store for an hour while you get yourself something. So, it's well known that a lot of parents have basically traded in everything about their life before to cater to every whim and desire of their child's. I'm not saying that your life and priorities shouldn't change...I can tell that just by preparing myself to start trying to get pregnant...I'm quitting smoking, I spend most nights cooking dinner at home, I clean the house more and keep things organized, I rarely go out with friends just to 'drink and catch up', my husband and I spend less money on food...but, what makes being a parent so hard now? Do you forget what it was like to grow up goig over to a cousin's house on Saturday night and playing in a back bedroom while the adults sat around playing Pictionary and drinking? Because that's what our parents did...when they need a break, they called someone else with kids and said, "I've had a shitty week and I really want to relax tonight...let's get together".

And seriously, up until a kid hits at least 9 months, you can go to your mother-in-law's house for dinner and not go home until 9 or 10. You know why? Because your baby will eat, sleep, and poop whether she's at home or at grandma's. You don't have to be sealed into your house by 7PM every night. You don't have to change everyone's Christmas plans because "it's so much for her to go to so many places in two days..." or "shes been out a lot lately, it's not good for her". She's six freaking weeks old...she doesn't care if she's getting fed at your house or not, as long as she's getting fed, getting held, and sleeping well. Have you ever thought that maybe it's a good idea to let your baby meet lots of new people in early life so that she will grow up being able to communicate with everyone? Or do you really want her to be just like her mom, who gets nervous when she's left in the room alone with one of her husband's friends or family members, because she's so socially inept that she doesn't know how to speak to people...

In any case, this probably doesn't make a whole lot of sense to many, but I'm trying to prepare myself to be the kind of parent that does what is best for my child without losing all sense of who I am, who my friends are, and what my marriage should be! I know people say things change after you have kids, but I look at the way my parents raised me and my sister and think we had a lot of boundaries, a good amount of freedom, and respect for adults, and that's exactly what I want for my child. Not a snot nosed brat who expects to get her way all of her life because her parents have 'let her make her own decisions' from birth. That's a load of crap, all the people who 'treat their children like adults'...there is a reason your child is not an adult and can't make it's own decision. Seriously, people, lighten up...

posted by: Cannonball14 at 17:55 | link | comments |
meow

Christmas in the South

Oh, don't worry, I'm not going to go through any stereotypical back-asswards bible rituals we go through down here or anything...I hope I am not perpetuating the myth that anyone born and raised anywhere between NC and MS are Southern-drawled babbling idiots. I'm going to talk about weather. Yes, weather.

See, there is no snow here like most of the rest of you have (unfortunately, there's no precipitation of any kind). There are no black peacoats with soft furry green scarves and silky leather gloves, no chance of sliding my arms into that great knee length wool dress coat in that hot shade of red I bought on my last NY trip, no corderoys, no boots, no chunky knit turtlenecks. This week, there are denim capri's and little cap sleeve tee shirts and

God-forbid-I-have-to-keep-my-pedicure-up flip-flops!

And if tradition holds, it won't last. Not forever, anyway. It will be 80 degrees today, and tomorrow's highs will be in the 50's. Back to jeans and long sleeve tees and (optional) socks. And, it may snow at some point in the coming winter, but not before or during Christmas. This is not global warming, either, this is normal. In fact, as a child I wished vehemently for a White Christmas each and every year. I think what I have come to realize as an adult is that it was great that we never had one. Because if there is one stereotype that holds true, it is that Southerners don't drive in the snow. (That's an entirely different post altogether...)

In any case, what I was trying to get at was that basically, if it had snowed on Christmas, I could not have spent my glorious childhood at my Granny's house, ringleading a group of ten cousins outside to the field and woods behind her house. 70 degree Christmases were perfect for our expeditions. We opened our presents, ate some snacks (there was never a traditional dinner with so many people there; there were cheeses and meats and pickles and olives and little smokies in barbecue sauce and chips and dips and nuts and so many yummy things to munch on all night long) and were promptly pushed outside by aunts and uncles so that their party could begin. There was this terrific coming of age...first, you wanted nothing to do with the 'old people'. Then, around 12 or 14 you started kind of wondering what they did that made them sound like they had so much fun. Around 16 you got moody and tired of playing with the little kids, and desperately wanted to join the grown-ups. And finally, the Christmas after your 18th birthday, there you were, with your Aunt slipping you a little wine and your older cousin slipping you a drag from his cigarette and your dad slipping you a habanero pepper to eat in front of your uncles. What wonderful memories from Christmas!

This will be the first year that we do not have this celebration on Christmas Day. My sister and I have pushed hard this year to be able to have an intimate Christmas with our immediate family, and by some great power my dad got my aunt, the family matriarch, to agree to have the (lovingly nicknamed "Big Johnson") Christmas party the Sunday before. So, this is the year for new memories...a quiet steak dinner with just the six of us, and an evening spent together without 30 other family members involved. Of course, this means that Christmas now stretched over three days instead of two, but I think I can deal with that just fine... 

posted by: Cannonball14 at 16:54 | link | comments (1) |