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Go Nigel, Go!
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Would You Like To Buy My Monkeys?
Sep
12
Wonder Pregnant Woman!
by Leslie
So, there’s good news and there’s good news.
Want the good news first?
See that photo up there? Well, my camera isn’t as kaput as we thought. Dave was able to revive it. And while it is a Frankenstein version of the original, it will do until it can be replaced. I’ve had to start myself on a strict digit strengthening program using tiny finger weights in order to have enough strength to press the buttons, but it’s all good.
And now, the good news.
Those Sea Bands. They work! They don’t take the nausea away completely, but they certainly do lessen it. I know this because I took them off to take a bath today and OH.MY.GOODNESS. I was sick. Once I was dry, I put those puppies right back on and have been wearing them ever since. I’m falling in love with that special blue color. It compliments my current gray/green complexion.
Although, I may need to print “not a mental patient” across them. I get some funny looks when I’m out and about.
Ha ha. Out and about. I’m like the walking dead. But, I’m walking. That’s an upgrade from my Fetal Position Tour in which I had been laying in the fetal position on the bed, the couch, the bath tub, the playroom floor while Julia prances around me…
I’m hoping to be back to full mom strength soon. And praying. And begging a little, too.
Sep
11
My digital camera is kaput. At the wedding this weekend, Dave and I were mid-hand off - the camera for the kid - and we dropped the camera.
I guess it was better that we dropped the camera and not our child, right?
This couldn’t come at a worse time as today I set out to spark the hippest new trend in pregnancy wear: Sea Bands. You can just pretend they’re called C-Bands and the C stands for Cool.
Oh, how I wish you could see me sporting them. I ROCK this look.
I know that you’re wondering if they work.
I don’t know. But, I’ll tell you this: I feel better wearing them than not wearing them. And so I’m going to wear them.
Perhaps I’ll buy a dozen and dye them different colors to match my outfits. Or not. I can’t be throwing money around willy-nilly on things like color coordinated C-Bands. I’ve got a new digital camera to save for thanks to dumb old gravity.
I hate you, gravity.
Sep
10
John Tesh Is My Svengali
by Leslie
I am tired. And nauseated. I can’t put my toothbrush in my mouth without revisiting my breakfast.
I have a giant zit on my chin. It is so huge, it is practically taking over my face. It thumps and throbs like it has a blinking neon sign attached to it. ZIT HERE! My pregnancy calendar told me that pregnancy hormones may cause my face to break-out. I think I’ll print that message on the paper bag I’ll be wearing over my head today.
I think I’m feeling especially icky because I had such a busy weekend and I’m just so tired.
Friday night, I was busy being especially sick. While the rest of the family ate dinner, I laid in bed sipping lemonade, thanking God for my pregnancy symptoms which seem to indicate that I am still pregnant, yet begging for a little relief. Just enough to swallow a cracker.
My body is a complete enigma right now. Eating is a struggle because I seem to be nauseous about 18 hours out of the day, but nothing is happening at the other end either. At least nothing without crying and bloodshed. Poop. Who needs it? Not me. I’ll just stop doing it. I wonder…could they surgically remove it? Could I have a p-section? I think I need one because this stuff just ain’t coming out on its own.
In less disgusting news, my cousin was married on Saturday. We traveled 175 miles to share in the festivities and another 175 miles to sleep in our own beds. The trip was exhausting, but worth it, if only to watch Julia boogie on the dance floor. That kid has got the music in her.
Sunday, I forced myself out of bed to travel 75 miles to see my friend Amy. She was having a mommy get-together and offered to teach me to knit. Since all the cool kids are knitting (like Angela), I thought I’d like to learn. I showed up with a fruit tray (I’d been too tired to create a dish on my own, plus, I suspected that fruit was something I could actually digest), my size 10 and very chic bamboo knitting needles, a skein of very soft and very classy yarn, and every intention of walking out of there wearing a scarf I’d manufactured with my very own hands.
I walked out with two broken bamboo knitting needles and an unraveled ball of yarn.
Okay, I didn’t break my knitting needles. I felt like it, though. I broke them in my mind. People, this knitting. It’s hard. I can cast on. I’m AWESOME at casting on. I could teach a class about casting on. I’m so brilliant at that part. It’s the actual knitting. I just….I just…can’t seem to do it. But, I will not give up. I’ve been downloading videos, reading my mom’s old knitting books from 1969 and trying again and again and again. I’ll get it. Eventually. One very victorious day, you will visit this blog and see a big, bold photograph of a scarf made by me and it will be glorious.
I also discovered that the baby loves to eat chocolate chip cheese ball stuff that Amy employs angels from heaven to create on her behalf. A lot. But, after thinking it over, that baby decided to send it back on the way home.
That’s okay baby, it was fun while it lasted.
So now, here I am. Monday morning and I haven’t near the energy I need to start the week. I need a vacation. A vacation that involves me, a dark room and a very comfortable bed.
Oh, speaking of beds! Here’s a tidbit I learned from John Tesh while I was on the road: You shouldn’t keep a mattress longer than 7 or 8 years. It will actually double its weight during its lifetime due to the sweat, dust and other gross crap it absorbs. It’s true. John Tesh told me. I think I believe him. He is a robot after all. He knows lots of facts.
John Tesh also told me that in order to become successful, I should solicit feedback. I contemplated that advice while driving into the sunset singing, “Take It To The Limit” by The Eagles. I thought I’d create a feedback form. (Also, Karly had a quiz on her blog last week and I like to be like Karly.) So, what do you guys think of me? How is my blogging? Help John Tesh help me and complete this quick seven question feedback form. Don’t worry. It’s anonymous.
Sep
7
I Love You Just The Way You Are
by Leslie
I took some photos of Julia while we were playing outside today.
This one is my favorite:
I haven’t been using my camera as much, lately. I’m not sure why, but today, I had to capture her, just as she was.
Her face was dirty, her hair was wild, with a leaf or two stuck in there. She was wearing a yellow shirt, red pants and purple socks - an outfit she chose on her own.
When I asked her about her selection, particularly the purple socks she replied, “My feet feel purple today.”
I couldn’t shake the overwhelming feeling that this - this time of filthy faces, sticky hands and scraped knees, this time of wearing purple socks because that’s the way her feet feel - isn’t going to last long. Maybe it’s because another baby is on the way or simply because Julia seems suddenly so grown up. Whatever the reason, today, I just can’t stop thinking about how fast it all goes. And how soon, she’ll begin to choose her socks to match her outfit rather than her mood because someone - who knows, maybe me - will make her aware of that “rule.”
I wonder how much longer simply being outside will thrill her. I wonder how many more times she’ll come running to show me the worm she dug up, the grasshopper she caught or the slug she found under the rock. I wonder how many more arms wide open, heart wide open, spinning, twirling, jumping, life-loving dances I’ll get to see.
And I just want grab my girl and tell her to never stop dancing, to wear purple socks if she wants to…and to never grow up.
Sep
6
I, Leslie, Being Of Sound Mind…
by Leslie
A few days ago, Julia and I were riding through town, past the local cemetery when Julia blurted from the backseat, “Mom! Mom! I dreamed about that place last night!”
“What place? The cemetery?”
“That place there!” she shouted, pointing undeniably at the cemetery.
“Really?”
“Yeah. You were there.”
“I was at the cemetery?”
“Yeah. You were in there.”
At that point, I felt just a little creeped out and began to dig a little deeper with questions like, “Was I happy?” She said yes. “Was I sleeping?” She said no. “Where was Daddy?” She said he was at work. “What about the baby?” She said the baby wasn’t in her dream.
Finally, I hit her with the zinger, “Was I…dead?”
“Mom, it was just a dream I had.”
I can’t help it. I’m kinda weirded out.
Sep
5
Nah, I’m Not Dead…Not Yet
by Leslie
I know. I KNOW. Where have I been? I haven’t posted for TWO DAYS and the e-mails are flooding in, one right after the other. And then one more. Okay, that’s only three, but still. Three very caring people are wondering where I am and what’s going on with me. They are asking, “Is Dave okay? Is the baby okay? What about Julia?”
We’re all just great. Seriously. I wouldn’t lie to you.
If you really want to know what’s kept me from blogging for all this time, I’ll tell you, in regular Leslie-like detail, which means you’re probably going to get more information than you ever wanted.
It all started on Monday. Labor Day. I had BIG plans for posting. Dave and I actually worked on The Video. I had begun the editing process when we heard from our good friend Will who was in the midst of becoming a year older and so, we had to drop everything we were doing to make his one and only birthday wish come true: offer up an evening of awesome 80’s trivia with The Grimmetts. Think that’s a lame birthday wish? You’ve never played 80’s trivia with us. It’s a lifechanging experience. It is fun you couldn’t possibly comprehend, because if you haven’t played 80’s trivia with us, you haven’t had the most fun you could ever have. Because we’re freaking all about the fun when it comes to 80’s trivia. It’s true that we could play some other kind of trivia and it would be pleasant and amusing, but 80’s trivia, well, that just puts it in a league all it’s own. We have to get a special permit and everything for the fun we have when the 80’s trivia game comes out. I’m just telling you. Put it on your list of things you want to do before you die: Play 80’s Trivia with The Grimmetts.
After kicking ass at 80’s trivia, we took the birthday boy out to dinner because nothing heals a kicked butt like steak at Roadhouse. By the time we got home, it was getting late and while I could have busted out a blog post, I had something else to do.
I had to capture a cat. A wild, maniac cat that had bitten my mom’s thumb in two and scratched her face off earlier that day.
Okay, the cat didn’t bite her thumb in two…but, it’s bitten pretty bad. And her face isn’t off either, but it is scratched. There was blood and screaming and everything.
So, I had to capture the cat because she is one of the last two cats we need to have fixed and she had an appointment the next day at 9 a.m. to get it done. I trapped her in the garage around 11 p.m. Four hours and twenty minutes later, I emerged from the garage without having captured that mother-fucking cat.
FOUR HOURS AND TWENTY MINUTES.
I tempted her with delicious food. I played with her with a little string. I offered to have her voice box upgraded to a human voice box so she could tell me to fuck off instead of just beaming the message at me with her evil cat eyes. At one point, I even attempted to make a cat capturing net out of deer netting and a fishing pole, but it was all for naught.
By 4 a.m., I was lying in bed, crying because A) I had been bested by a cat B) I was only going to get about 3 1/2 hours of sleep and C) My guts hurt.
A few hours later, I got up and made sure the other cat got to the vet for her surgery and then, got Julia ready to go to playgroup. (Yeah, we switched to Tuesdays. Mark your calendar: Leslie’s Freakouts will now occur on Tuesday. Yippeee!) We went to playgroup way out in B.F.E. (That’s bum-fuck Egypt, if you didn’t know. Now, use it in a sentence this week!) We swam in a lake. We had a wonderfully fabulous time for about three hours. Then, we came home and spent the next few hours dealing with insurance stuff, finding out about our car, which is not dead and should be revived in a week or two, and acquiring a rental to get us through until The Big Red Car is well again. When we finally got home, I was so tired, all I could do was moan and cry. And there was some crying and moaning until bedtime.
It should also be documented that I did, in fact, write a post for you all somewhere in there, but my mom asked me not to publish it. She said it was too personal. She’s right. It would crush the illusion that we are in some way a family that isn’t completely fucked up. Perhaps I will publish it and password protect it, so only the coolest kids, the most secret of squirrels can read it if they ask pretty please for the password. Maybe. I don’t know.
Oh yeah, and I think I have a hemorrhoid. Woohoo!
Now, before you go, if you made it this far, here’s a video for you. Watch it. It’s my van!
Sep
2
Duck Season Rabbit Season Mating Season
by Leslie
Last night at 11:00 p.m. on the button, I got the phone call I’ve dreaded most: the one that told me Dave had been in a car accident.
Since Dave became my husband, commuting a significant distance to work has become the norm for him. Currently, his commute is approximately one hour (scaled down from the 2 hour and fifteen minute commute he had when we lived in West Virginia). While I’ve been accustomed to long commutes all my life, first having lived in a tiny West Virginia town where everything was at least forty minutes away to having jobs that required a fair amount of travel, Dave has struggled to embrace the movement between here and waaaaayyy over there. Knowing that without Julia and me as motivation, he never would choose to travel a distance greater than twenty miles to work, I’ve lived with the full understanding that if he ever had a mishap on the road, the weight would come to rest fully on my shoulders.
Today, my shoulders are sagging low.
Just a few miles from home, as Julia and I were reading a story, Dave was coming face to face with the biggest darn deer you ever did see. He says, “I saw its eyes, I closed mine and started to say, ‘Oh crap,” but I only got the ‘Oh’ out when we hit.”
Dave was the last thing that deer saw. It died on impact and may have taken our Big Red Car with it. We won’t know until after Labor Day. Thankfully, Dave was okay. But, I didn’t know that when the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Leslie, I’m screwed.”
“Why? What? Did you forget something?”
“I hit a deer.”
“Oh my God, David? Are you okay? Are you alright?”
“I think so…I don’t know…I think so…Leslie, the car…the car is smashed.”
“Where are you?”
“I hadn’t even made it to the highway.”
“I’ll be right there.”
I grabbed Julia and screamed for my mother. We were ready and out the door in 30 seconds flat. Julia and I hopped in the van. My mom got in her car. I tore out of the driveway and mom followed behind me. I was trying to keep my cool, but doing a poor job of it. Julia was asking for her favorite music in between chants that we were going to see, “Daddy daddy daddy daddy.”
Just as hazard lights came into view, I passed the deer, lying in a pool of blood in the opposite lane. I slowed a bit. Julia began to cry. When I looked into the rearview mirror to see her face, I saw that I was crying, too. I hadn’t even realized it. My heart was pumping hard and fast when I pulled in behind our family car and I barely put the van in park before I jumped out to see, with my very own eyes, my husband and that he was okay. I took a step from the car and Julia screamed. I stopped, completely torn between running to my husband and leaving my baby. I did a weird little dance, taking a step or two toward Dave and then back toward Julia, screaming, “David! David!”
I can’t tell you the relief I felt when I saw him walk toward me with nothing broken and no blood. When he finally came close enough, I hugged him and squeezed him all over, proving to myself that he was really there and okay. He was shaken, but alright.
We collected ourselves and began making the appropriate phones calls. One hour and fifteen minutes later, Dave was back on the road in my mom’s car and the rest of us were heading home. Our Big Red Car was on the back of a tow truck, going to a garage. The police officer that had come to the scene told us that the accident was no surprise. “It’s mating season,” he said, “Lots of accidents during mating season.”
Who knew love could be so dangerous?
Sep
1
Dirty
by Leslie
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I Write A Haiku Each Day
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Categories
- Daily Haiku
- Mommy’s Stuff
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You Should Do This
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Ooooooh. Aaaaah.
