House, MD Season Five (Over?)Reaction

Wes and I finished the fifth season of House last night and I don’t mind telling you I was disappointed.  Major spoilers ahead, so I’m going to put a little break between here and there so if you haven’t seen the last season of House, meaning the one from last year that everyone’s already finished buzzing over, and you don’t want spoilers you don’t have to see them.

To read on, click on the “More” link below.

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Avoiding the Big Soggy Mess

Wow.  Hi.  Yes, I am still in possession of all my faculties, though if you’d asked me yesterday I would have informed you politely that I had no idea who Erika was and could you please direct me to the nearest couch so I could take a nap?  The reason why, in case you missed me on Twitter or Facebook, is we launched Offbeat Mama yesterday and it went so very well.

It’s really cool to see something you’ve worked on come to fruition.  Like, back in July it was just an idea, and now it’s a verifiable entity.  With posts.  And comments.  I think that’s the one-of-a-kind rush you get from launching a new website: You send it out into the world, and when you started getting responses it’s a very heady feeling.

That’s not to say I was feeling 100% awesome last night.  No no.  I had a headache that could have crushed a donkey and it stuck around all freaking day.  I tried eating some M&M’s for the caffeine factor (and because they’re yummy) but to no avail.  I’m avoiding drugs during pregnancy just because I enjoy playing it safe when it comes to my fetus, but even the self-gratifying rush that comes from doing the best I can to be an awesome pregnant chick did nothing to help me feel better last night.

What did make me feel better was watching Doc act like a complete goof.  The first thing he did was fart, loudly.  Then, because he always surprises himself when that happens, he craned his neck around so that he could smell his own butt.  When I asked him what in the blue heck he was doing, he smiled at me and wagged his tail.  Whatever makes him happy, I guess.

The second thing he did was whine and pace in front of the sliding glass door because, wait for it, there were leaves blowing by.  Menacing leaves, that obviously meant the two of us no good at all, and the only thing for it was to stand guard at the door to ensure those suckers didn’t come charging in, crumbling all over the place.  It’s a good thing he was there.

Truthfully, I’m finding myself in the very familiar situation of not knowing where to set boundaries for myself with work.  There’s always something I could be doing, but doesn’t mean it’s healthy for me, or for Squishy, to work constantly.  Sure, my kitchen is immaculate, the laundry is folded, dinner is set for tomorrow, and I’ve written five posts, but I’m also exhausted and can barely muster up the energy to shower and then succumb to the luscious pillows on my bed.

I determined last night that I had better get my act together and start parceling out time to relax, or I’ll be in very sorry shape once this baby’s done cooking.  If I refuse to give myself time and space to do something relaxing now, what will become of me when I have four times as much laundry to do and a child I have to feed with my boobs?

A big soggy mess, that’s what will become of me.  A big, soggy, miserable mess who will find it very hard to distill pleasure and enjoyment from my new little family, and will instead just be resentful and bitter.

That being said…Does anyone know of a way to get chores to do themselves?

Windows and Websites

Wow.  I got schooled in that last poll, didn’t I?  I mean, it wasn’t even a fair fight at all.  Just goes to show you: Let the Internet settle your marital disagreements.

I wish I had more to say at the moment, but unfortunately every time I open my mouth the only thing that comes out is either “Baby!” or “Offbeat Mama!” or “Windows!” because that’s pretty much the majority of what I’m thinking about at any given moment.  Baby because, well, duh.  Offbeat Mama, which is the name of the new site I’m helping to launch, because we’re launching next week and I’m juggling a whole heap of things to get that going.  Windows because we’re getting ours replaced.

I’m actually pretty darn tickled about getting our windows replaced.  Our house has two kinds of windows: vinyl and aluminum frame.  The vinyl windows are newer and work great.  The aluminum ones?  Not so much.

They’re as old as the house and you can certainly tell.  They leak heat like a sieve during the winter, and let it come pouring in during the summer.  The winter is the worst though, because they collect condensed water and then it pools on the window sills and I have to mop it up every morning to prevent it from dripping onto the carpet.  All that moisture eventually leads to mold growth, so every week during the winter I have to disinfect and clean out our window tracts.  Just so you know, winter in Washington?  Lasts a long frigging time.

Adding insult to injury, the seal on the windows in our bedroom broke and now there are little white spots on the insides of the panes of glass.  This means we can no longer see through the windows in our bedroom.  Super fancy nice, huh?

Wes’ brother is an excellent contractor, so he’s going to replace our windows when his schedule clears up.  Not only will this save us buckets of money on our heating bill this winter, it’ll update the heck out of our house and enable us to see clearly through our bedroom windows.

I’m excited about these things, but what I’m most excited about is the prospect of bringing Squishy home in February (the deep, dark depth of winter) and being able to keep the house warm enough.  Also, being able to put the baby to sleep in his/her bassinet next to a window that doesn’t grow mold?  That tickles me too.

Now, as for Offbeat Mama.  I’m really excited about that too.  Ariel and I have been working on it all summer and the official launch is on Monday.  But.  If you want to, you can come sneak a peek extra early-like.  You just need the login / password, which are: mamasays / timeforbed

The site is really fun already.  It’s basically an online community where offbeat parents don’t have to apologize for being who they are and where we can all collectively ooh and ahh over one another’s adorable progeny without wondering whether someone’s judging us for whatever decision they think is weird/wrong/whatever.

So yeah.  Come check it out, at the very least so you can see the adorable shoes I blogged about last week :)

PS: A new belly pic is coming up tomorrow!  I’ve decided I’d like to do those every two weeks, so we’ll see if I can keep it up!

All His Eggs In One Basket

This is not normally the kind of thing I blog about, but Wes has made a special request and I feel beholden to honor it.  Help us settle a discussion we had tonight before Wes left for school, won’t you?

So, you’re Wes.  You’re studying at home and take a break to make some lunch.  There are no handy dandy leftovers hanging out in the fridge, so you survey your options.  They are as follows:

  • Mac n’ Cheese
  • Trader Joe’s chicken potstickers (2 mins. in the microwave and SO GOOD)
  • Peanut butter and jelly English muffin sandwich
  • Apples and cottage cheese
  • Eggs

All decent choices, right?  Bear in mind, too, that any and all of these combinations can be eaten in conjunction with a banana or a pickle or each other, so it’s not like he was starving.  It’s no cheeseburger with fries and a lemonade or anything, but it’s also a fairly respectable array of choices.

What did he choose?  Eggs.  Just eggs.  He scrambled four eggs and made them for lunch.  And then ate them.

Now, in my opinion four eggs is just a bit much for one meal.  That’s quite a lot of cholesterol for one, and for another…Four eggs.  That’s a lot of eggs.

He’s of the opinion that four scrambled eggs is a perfectly acceptable repast.

Now, can you help us settle this?

[poll id=”13″]

On Being Adopted

Well, I’m back.  Back home, back to work, back to being a wife and puppy-mama while gestating the most adorable fetus I’ve ever personally conceived.  On the outside, I’m doing ok.  I’m getting my work done, I keep the crying in public to a minimum, and I have yet to get lost on the way home because of distraction.  On the inside though?  Not doing so well, which I suspect is perfectly normal.

I’m not sure if getting stuff off your chest is also normal (I’ve never really grieved before) but this is what’s on my mind right now so I guess we’ll all just go with it.  Adoption.  Specifically, the state of being someone who was adopted.

My Dad was not my biological father.  This is not something he or I would ever tell you unless you asked why our last names were different.  He married my mother when I was around three years old, but he met me when I was one and, from what I’ve heard, I was his daughter from the moment he met me.  He never introduced me, Royal Tenenbaum style, as his adopted daughter, and I never qualified him as my step-father.

He simply was my father, and I simply was his daughter.  End of story.

Since he passed, however, a lot of people have gone to a lot of trouble to point out that he adopted me.  Emphasizing that he had two kids, one of which was adopted one of which was not.  Pointing out that my brother is my half-brother (Dude.  I grew up with him.  I met him the day he was born when he was introduced to me as my brother.  We took baths together, fought like wild savages, and walked to school together every day.  He’s my brother, there’s really no point in putting the half in front to qualify it somehow).

The pastor who led my Dad’s memorial service wanted to point the adoption thing out in particular, as he saw Dad’s adoption of me as demonstrative of his capacity for love.  I wish he hadn’t done that.  People who have been adopted, in general, really don’t like having it pointed out that they aren’t related by blood.  There’s a huge stigma in our society, that if you aren’t related biologically you’re somehow a lesser member of the family.

What I’ve learned, however, is that family is determined primarily by relationships.  My Dad treated me like his daughter, I accorded him all the rights (and love, and sloppy macaroni Father’s Day gifts) of a father.  Wes asked for his permission to marry me, he gave me away on my wedding day, he taught me how to cook, and he cheered loudly when I graduated from both high school and college.

I doubt any of the people who have so fastidiously pointed out that we’re not genetically related could differentiate for me how being related by blood would have changed any of that.

So just a word to anyone who reads this: If someone’s adopted, and you’re talking about them or their parents, leave the adopted part out of it.  If the person doesn’t introduce him/herself as the adopted son/daughter of _____, then why not just leave the adopted part out of it?