Why I NEED My Own Bedroom

I am a light sleeper.
Like, if you turn on the light I will probably want to punch you in the face because you've just jolted me from sleep.
When I'm awoken, my heart starts racing.

You'd think I was Katniss Everdeen and I'm having Hunger Games nightmares with the way I jump out of sleep ready to stab whoever woke me, with my heart racing the whole time.

I don't know if I've always been like this. I seem to remember being a heavy sleeper as a child. What I think changed all that was getting married and being forced sharing a bed with my husband.
Not only does he sleep like a box of rocks (I'm not entirely sure if that's the right analogy, but I'm tired so whatever) but he doesn't rouse for the slightest thing.

So here I am having trouble falling asleep because I'm afraid the zombies and ghosts and crazy guy from down the hall are going to come in and kill us all and he's just sleeping away like nobodies business.
I usually have the best luck sleeping if he comes to bed directly with me, or if he's still awake. Because then he can defend the fort from all the zombies-ghost-crazies while I sleep.

But I don't always have that luck.

Last night, he went to his monthly geekfest magic meeting which he's usually home from at around 12am. I went out to dinner with my friend and came home to put laundry away and play with the dog. Around 10:30 or so I decide it's time to wind down and want to read my book. Odie doesn't think this is a good idea. He thinks it's still play time and will not leave me the hell alone. So I take him out again, where he decides it's also time to eat cat food so I have to chase after him and the cat food can that someone left out.

I finally wrangle him back inside and settle down to go to bed. He starts woofing, not barking just a quiet woof woof woof. He doesn't usually do that, so I get a little freaked that there's a ghost of some kind coming to smother me. I pick him up and put him on the bed, where he still is woofing. He finally jumps down, and stands in the hallway again woofing. I usher him back into the bedroom and close the door.

Now we're cooking with gas :) He finally settles down. So do I.

Until about 1:30 when he begins frantically pawing at the door. Slightly hazy I get up and open the door, finding my husband passed out on the couch. I poke him until he wakes up, Odie thinks it's play time again and I go back to bed.

Then 3:30 rolls around, and the dog wont. stop. whining!

I have to get up for work, but Nick doesn't have work so I really want him to get up and deal with it. But he doesn't hear anything becaus ehe's dead to the world (not in the ghost smothering scenario, it's just he's a solid sleeper)so being stubborn I refuse to get up. But I can't get back to a sound sleep for the rest of the night because Odie is just as stubborn. When I finally relent and get up, he's peed all over the kitchen and is asking for more water.

*explitiveexplitiveexplitive*

I refill his bowl, turn on every light in the bedroom and begin talking to Nick, because if I can't sleep why should he. Also, I leave the mess in the kitchen for him to clean up. And I may have yanked a hair out of his head...

And this is why I need my own room. With a lock on the door.

The Joys of Trying to Buy a Home

My husband and I are currently in the process of looking for our first home. Having been apartment dwellers for the first three years of marriage, this is a huge undertaking and not one we are taking lightly.

I am an avid researcher and advice seeker, so I know MLSLI and Zillow inside and out. We started out with a broad search, not really knowing where we wanted to lay down roots, or what type of house and have slowly but surely narrowed our search.

That to me is the fun part, the searching and dreaming of our home and the future we'll build there.

The not so fun part?

Dealing with the realtors.

MLSLI has a feature that allows you to email the realtor to ask questions or set up an appointment.

I make it a point to write in the email that email is the best way to reach me; something they all tend to ignore.

The other thing they don't seem to tak into account is the fact that I am not just looking at one home. So when they call me 3 weeks after I've sent the email, telling me that I inquired about a home in whatever town it was, I've forgotten and am now annoyed because:

A) They didn't even bother to read past my phone number

B) It's taken them 3 weeks to get back to me, in which case I've already assumed that the home is probably unavailable and moved on in my search.

AND FINALLY

C) They're so vague about which home they're calling about that I have no idea. As if they assume that the home they are selling is THE ONLY HOME I WANT!

Which is not the case.

Also, when I finally set up an appointment to see the home they hardly ever have answers to basic questions other than what I have already read myself in my research. Which they repeat over, and over, and over again. I got it, you can read ... Guess what? So can I!

So the house search continues and my urge to just be able to add a house to an online shopping cart and check out through PayPal grows stronger.

The Act of Being Productive

Being productive; the act of producing something that will be beneficial to your day or life is something we all strive for. I try to do at least one productive thing per day, namely getting out of bed and making it to work. Usually I accomplish much more than that, but I aim for that goal every day.

I’ve had a huge bag of things I needed to shred sitting there for, oh about a month or so. I kept forgetting to bring it to work with me, since I typically wake up 15 minutes later than I intend to (thanks a lot snooze button), have to rush to get ready, make sure the dog gets out and grab everything I need to for the day.

But today! Today I remembered! Go me, epic win for today’s productivity!

I managed to get the giant bag into the car, and head out to my office. I noticed that my gas was low, so I decided to make productivity stop number 3 and get gas. I took my debit card out of my wallet, swiped it and filled my tank.

I made it to work only 10 minutes late, not too bad, and I managed to lug the giant bag (which I swear weighed 50 pounds) in from the car and to my desk. SCORE!

About an hour or two into my day, I decided to take a break and start shredding this bag of receipts, old bills and credit cards. I’m making my way through the bag with ease since I had organized it when I transferred it into this bag, since the original one ripped.

Now the next set of events, I can clearly see in my head, but can’t quite understand how I managed it.

My debit card, from this morning’s fill up fell out of my pocket. I picked it up off the floor, and tossed it towards my desk. It fell off (I do not have good aim) and landed under my chair. I decided I wasn’t going to stop what I was doing because I was being productive and I might see an email I must answer if I go anywhere near my computer. So I keep shredding.

At some point, I must have blacked out, because I picked up my card with the intention of putting it back in my pocket but I didn’t … I stuck it in the shredder! I only realized it when I woke up from my blackout that it was no longer under my chair.

Epic Fail; now I have to run to the bank, before it closes, to get a new card. So much for being productive.

Lesson learned, being productive and accomplishing something only leads to more work.

Is that the sun?

*squint*

Wow, it's been a while since I posted on here.
I had written a post around January, but quickly took it down as I felt that I was

A) too raw from the experience to really deal with people trying to comfort me.
B) it was too sad, and that's the last thing we need in this world.

So the long and the short of it is that my husband and I had a loss at 5 weeks. It was sad, I felt broken and alone in despair.

But I wasn't, I had friends (some who really came out of the wood work and pulled me through)and family. There are a million forums on the net about women who go through the same thing, and at the end of the day none of us are alone.

After about a month, I was sick of being tired and angry at everyone. I chose to be happy, and to move on with my life. I chose to plaster a smile on, and find a way to compliment people to brighten their day. I chose to clean, or chat with people and ask how THEY were doing instead of being consumed with what was going on with me. And I felt better.

I threw myself into new situations with people I hardly knew, which makes me wholly uncomfortable because of awful high school experiences, and I came out unscathed.

Don't get me wrong, there were still times that I cried, but I didn't feel like I was in the bottom of a well anymore.

The wound was healing.

People who know ask me, "Are you guys trying again?" well we weren't really actively TRYING to begin with.

And I think that was part of the problem; it was kind of a shock and I went into OCD panic mode (of which I will address in another blog)and started freaking out about not having a house or enough money in the bank.

I think that stress compounded with the fact that I am not THE most healthy I can be, (I have hypothyroidism, and didn't know whether to continue my medication or not...so I stopped it to be safe) lead to my loss.

Is this a medical fact? NO! It's just what I think, using my skills of logic and needing to have an answer (OCD).

So ARE we trying? No, not actively. We still have money to save and bills to pay and while we will be more prepared if it were to happen again, this experience did bring us closer and did allow us to talk about the future.

Good comes from bad, (and sometimes vice versus)

The Chronicles of the Never Was

January 13th 
I had an inkling that something was different. So I ran out and bought a test. It came out faintly positive, so I spent the rest of the day wracked with worry. "Were we or weren't we", was the question that went over and over in my head. So I stopped by the store on my way home and bought another test. This one was digital and came out definitively YES. I was on the phone with Nick and he was excited. "I'm going to be a dad" he said, while I wrung my hands in worry over the fact that we didn't have a house yet, what were we going to do, I wanted my photography business to pick up more... 
January 14th 
Nick bought a few more tests to make sure before I made a doctors appointment. 
I took one after I got home from work, but it said NO. This was a little confusing given the tests the day before, but I chalked it up to being early and maybe drinking too much water during the day. I told him I would take the other one early in the morning because that's when it was best, from what I had heard. 
January 15th 
I took the test, and it came out a resounding YES. I started to relax and be happy that we were. Making plans on who we would tell and when, and how. I was most excited to tell my sister. She's always loved kids, and my parents how happy they would be to finally be grandparents. 
We had to go out that night, so I put my feelings on a shelf because it was way too early to tell anyone anyway, packed up my gear and went out. I was starting to feel a little moody, and very crampy. I kept reading that it was normal, so I took it as a good sign. 
January 16th 
We looked at a few houses, in our price range because we really wanted to be in a house when we had a baby. Our neighbors are cranky and I don't want to deal with having the floors banged on because an infant is crying. 
We are still happy in our bubble, talking about baby names and plans on how to tell people and what we'll do. 
January 17th 
I went to the doctors to confirm the tests I took at home. But something is wrong. Their tests aren't coming up like mine did, but they are sending blood samples to the lab to get all the levels and we'll go from there. This is the part I hate, the waiting, the in between, the unknown. I started to get tense, and I could feel it tighten my stomach. I kept trying to relax, but I knew I wouldn't until I knew everything was alright. I mean, everything is usually alright, right? 
January 18th 
I anxiously waited for the time to call the doctor, to finally have some relief and know that we could continue planning. 
But that didn't happen, my levels were low, it might not be viable. I called Nick, he was upset but not ever having to have been in this position, he didn't know what to do. I just wanted my mom, not the way I intended to break the news but I wanted her reassurance. 
January 19th 
Went back to the doctor to get more blood drawn, hopefully the levels would start to double. There was light at the end of the tunnel. 
January 20th 
I started spotting early in the day, before I could even call the doctor to get the results. By 12pm it was heavier and clotted, and I knew in my gut that it was over. I called the doctors office to let them know what was going on, and they had me come in. My levels went down according to the blood work they took the day before, so I was most likely having a miscarriage. I cried, she told me what to expect and I cried some more. I called Nick, he left work to be with me. We sat in bed, and I cried and apologized because I didn't know what else to say. I showed him the picture of the positive test, asked him what I should do with it. He wants me to save it, proof that we created life. 

(I am writing this for my own sanity, to remember what happened and how quickly life can change)

And then again, maybe I won't

As you may have read in a past post I have insane neighbors...
I was a part of a conversation about crazy apartment neighbors last Friday (or possibly Saturday morning, I can't be sure) and we were all laughing at the crazy neighbors we have/had...you know what's NOT so funny? Being jolted out of a dead sleep by a jackass shrieking over a damn football game at MIDNIGHT! The whole lot of them "on call" (yes they were so loud I heard their entire conversation) We kept letting it go and letting it go, and then it died down enough for me to sleep, and then BAM! my heart was pounding, and I was pisssssed. This is when I started banging on the wall....

Day 04 → Something you have to forgive someone for.

Funny this came up today.
I got a call from my husband earlier saying his mom was pissed at everyone because she feels that everyone uses her just for her cooking and not her company. That's not true on my end because I don't even eat most of what she cooks because it's laced with meat.

I'm the type of person who doesn't like to be ON TOP of people. I like to give people breathing room. I know I hate getting a million calls when I've gotten home from work and all I want to do is relax, unwind, catch up on whatever it is I need to catch up on and go to sleep.

So I don't call everyone every week, hell I don't call people every MONTH. And maybe that's a flaw but I'm trying to be considerate. I tend to email or text because it give people a chance to respond when they have a chance, I assume everyone is just as busy as I am.
Also, since I'm not telepathic (though I may really want to be) I can't guess when IS a good time to call. Sorry.

I actually IM'd my MIL just last week, at like 11PM or so, just to catch up and because she happened to be online. I LIKE talking to her. She's insightful and witty and GETS me. I'm very lucky.

This also comes along with me trying to plan a family reunion with my fathers family. It too has been unsuccessful. They've never been close, live in all different parts and my 2 cousins are over 10 years older than me. I think they only met me when I was a baby, and then once at my grandfathers funeral. They all seem nice, I wish they would WANT a relationship. But as it happens, it doesn't seem like they do. Maybe this is God's way of telling me that my plate is full enough and I shouldn't be chasing shadows.

Finally, who I really should forgive is my stepmother.
I shouldn't be mad that she's crazy.
It's just WHO SHE IS.
It's not her fault that she can't see herself the way EVERYONE else does.
The last interaction I had with her was during my trip to Florida.
It was high tension for everyone, and the second I stepped off the plane my brother was complaining about how she was driving her crazy.
It was nice to know that after all these years of thinking I was the crazy one, I was NOT. And everything that happened to me, is now happening to him.

It was not appreciated that she tried to make light of a situation that I had literally fallen into on the cusp.
It was nice to have my brother to lean on, and to bend my fathers' ear.
I don't think she realizes that she misrepresents herself, alienates herself and in turn all of us. Until she realizes that she's the one with the problem, I should be thanking her for staying out of my life. Although I've always had the feeling that she never really liked me.

She's actually quite manipulative, though.

So Pam I forgive you, and I thank you for continuing your crazy antics to other people so I know that it's not ME. A list of people who whole heartedly agree with me, can be requested if you ever find this post. It's at least 15 people deep.