Tomato Sauce & Chocolate

New Year's Eve and New Years has never been a huge celebration for D and I. We've never put on fancy clothes to go to dinner or dancing. I guess it's just not our style. We tend to be the stay-home type. (In all honesty the thought of driving on holidays that focus on drinking keeps me indoors.) This year was no different.

Lately I've been waning food with tomato sauce. A couple days ago, on a shopping trip to Costco, I quietly concocted a plan to take as many free pizza samples as possible. I even walked around the entire store again to get a second scoop had seconds. At the end of the trip D ended up with healthy items such as greek yogurt, almonds, and vitamins. Me? A 12-pack of mini pizzas and a giant vat of ketchup. A GIANT vat.

So, when D came home from a bike ride this afternoon and asked me on a little date, "to a place with tomato-y stuff," I was thrilled. We dragged along our friend, E, with us to our favorite, local pizza place. (Top 50 pizza place in the country? Yes AND please!) D and E split a pizza while I stuck to an order of breadsticks with a salad... and might have used the marinara sauce as salad dressing.

We topped the night, and dinner, off with some fancy-pants desserts from a beautiful, ocean front restaurant.

Yeah- we're really good at being low key. There's no place else I'd rather be than where I currently am: sitting on the couch with a sleeping husband, cuddly dogs at my feet, too lazy to stop watching a movie that I hated the first time around, the smell of my favorite Anthropologie candle burning and pouring myself a bowl of cereal after publishing this post.

Happy 2012.

Yep... two posts in a row again. Scroll yourself on down to the previous one.

Christmas

This was our first Christmas sans family. Despite that we had a really great time with two of our best friends. Just like Christmas Eve, Christmas was more cooking, eating, and Settlers of Catan. We were blessed with a lot of great gifts this year but it was hard to top the wee little gift I've been carrying.

D and I couldn't stop thinking about how this was our final Christmas as a duo. It's hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that there will be a little person bossing us around, stealing our hearts next year... but, oh man, we can't wait. 

It's also hard for me to think of how we'll get another person to pose in our Christmas picture since we have a hard enough time taking one ourselves. 

Hope your holiday was merry and bright. 

The Eve

 Emma

 Our tree. I'm pretty sure it hated us. It fell over twice and shattered a few special ornaments, including our star. 

 Prepping some basil

 A classy, young gentleman

 A crazy fart head

 AH-MAZ-ING Greek spaghetti prepared by Chris.

 Lovin' the Christmas cards we received. Between sleeping and baby excitement I didn't have time to get our out this year. 

 Lots o' gifts!

 Cookin' a sweet potato

 My famous Brie En Croute. So famous that a certain dog got up in the middle of the night and ate the remaining half. HE will not be named. 

 Chris and D. 

 Boys are creative wrappers- especially when a poop bag is involved. 

 My favorite bag from my favorite half-Jewish gal. 

 Inside joke

 Another creative wrapping example. (And, might I add, that it contains only ONE shoe. Not a pair. Just one.) 

 Mmm mmm!

 The dapper cook.

Full tummies all around. 

...

Two posts in a row?! Yes it's true. The first one is here. 

There Are No Real Words...(Especially)

...to describe seeing the following image:

Especially on a Saturday afternoon after unpacking your entire house. Especially on a whim. Especially when I had an extremely special dream about this type of thing two days before I tested. Especially since there was a reason why D got hurt and had to come home. Especially after three long, painful years of trying. Especially after being diagnosed with a progressive disease- one that I can never get rid of, was surprised to learn I had, and one that is one of the main causes of infertility. Especially since I had become used to saying the word "infertility"... a word that I despise. Especially since I went through six months of hell in the form of a shot, seven rounds of Clomid, two rounds of Femara, had surgery, and went through nine months of terrible depression/ therapy/ anti-depressants.

The whole previous paragraph was worth it after thirty seconds of the taking the test. All the stress, fear, anxiety, anger and sadness disappeared as D and I stared at each other, with disbelief, and said, "What do we do now!?" I would do it again. In a heartbeat.

I am a daughter by birth, a sister by blood, a wife by marriage and, now, a mother by God's grace.

Six weeks

Risk

On Sunday night a thought popped into my head as I was getting into bed: "Tomorrow is going to be either really good or really bad." Being very tired and realizing that nothing I could do could change the situation, I focused on the upcoming Friends episode on my tv. To my surprise I fell asleep really fast.

Hubs has been gone for two months for specialized training. In a prior phone conversation on Sunday he warned me that he might be coming home sooner than he wanted to. Not because of a failed test, poor performance or anything of that sort. His shoulder was giving out and the the remainder of his training "fate" rested in a military doctor's decision.

Monday morning came fast and his fate was relayed to me via text message- he was coming home. He was not happy. A quick bout of anger on his part, tears on my part and we were quickly reminded that the military moves fast, and we had to keep up. A craigslist search and a dozen phone calls later we secured a new home in a new location.

via

Back to Sunday night. In the moments prior to checking out, mentally, to watch Friends I thought about all of the risks that we've taken this past year. Especially the past couple of months. All of the risks were very calculated, weighed and obessesed thought over: we packed up our entire house and uprooted two states away knowing that he could come home early. We knew that being separated during the holidays would be extremely hard. We knew that me living out of a suitcase, dragging two dogs around and bouncing between two sets of parents would have some pros but a lot of cons. Et cetera, et cetera, etcetera. I didn't prepare myself to risk picking up broken pieces of someone who tried but didn't succeed.

That's a risk I should have prepared for. And I'm very bad at math.

Hubs is my absolute best friend. He reads me and anticipates what's coming before I'm even ready to let it out. He's spent the past two years comforting, reassuring, pushing me forward, pulling me up and positively reinforcing me... sometimes multiple times in an hour. He's also put up with some very crappy side effects- both mentally and physically. I had become so used to it that I'm guilty of forgetting how to return the favor. Apparently it doesn't take that long to remember how to return the favor.

The best part about risk? It's antonyms: secure, safe, shelter, save... to name a few.

Without the risks we've taken in the past couple months I wouldn't have been reminded how safe I feel in my hometown. I was reminded how absolutely secure my marriage is. I wouldn't have been able to save some of my childhood and family items that would have been given away. I wouldn't have had the most stressful two hours priviledge to negoiate a rental agreement for a condo we haven't really seen. I would not have had the chance to rely emotionally on a person who's growing more into family than friend.

Yeah... I guess risk is okay, afterall. Let's hope I still agree with the previous statement after all the risks we plan to take this coming year. My fingers will definitely be crossed. D exposed himself to a ton of risk... but I'm so glad he did.





Sass

Sass

noun
1. impudent or disrespectful back talk: Both parents refuse to take any sass from their kids.

verb (used with object)
2. to answer back in an impudent manner: Don't sass your mother.

adj (used for a person) but also a noun
3. a dark haired, dark eyed female born in 2003: Wifey's nickname for her niece, Ky.

It seems as if it was just a couple years ago that I was watching her move and kick from the inside of her mom's stomach. Shortly after that I was teaching her dad how to hold a baby, bringing her home from the hospital in my rinky-dink saturn, and watching her turn two people into parents. A few months ago she was carting her security toy- a green rubber alligator named Sandy- around e.v.e.r.y.w.h.e.r.e., marching around like a duck, and ordering us into time out for being naughty. Last week she refuses to call me anything but Auntie Erin, went through a I'm-a-dog phase, demanded to watch Home Alone a hundred million zillion times, and found any excuse to eat icecream.

And, yet, it wasn't just the other day that all of this happened because now she's eight. Eight. Now her clothes cannot keep up to the rate her body is growing. She's traded calling me Auntie Erin for just "lady." Most everything she says is laced with sarcasm. Her favorite show is Bones, and she dreams about living on a horse ranch. She says sassy things that I swear I've said when I was her age. She has her own style and isn't afraid of showing it. She's stolen my heart from the minute she was born and I have no intention of ever letting go of her.

This small-fry is amazing. Nothing less. She pushes me to want to be a better aunt, person and mother. I look up to her for her perserverence and resilience... especially since she was born into a less than optimal environment that has only gotten worse in some ways. She's proof that family is worth fighting for, no matter the cost.

And yet... she's eight.

The BEST part about being back in California is being near her. There were many, many a few times that I bawled on the phone with my mom because it was just. so. hard. to be away from this little girl. Now, she's a five minute drive away. We've been two peas in a pod lately:

 

California has been good to the dog-dogs and I so far. But this little sass has made it even better.

For the record- all of these pictures were taken with my cell phone and are mine, and mine only. If you take them- in any way- I will be forced to hunt you down and karate chop you. Or something similar.

List It Out

One of the best things a counselor taught me was to list my thoughts, emotions, fears, stresses, etc. out on a piece of paper as a way to not keep it all in. (I tend to be a firework... keep it all in until one thing sets me off.) This is one of the easiest things for me to do because I. love. lists.

I've struggled with this blog lately because I feel like it's constantly nagging me to update it. And it's right... I desperately need to update it. I find this harder to do now that we're (mainly me) homeless and bouncing between Central and Southern California. At the same time I think back to when D went to bootcamp two years ago, and how blogging helped pass that time. Well, that and walking Bogey 14+ hours each day. I still feel slightly awkward updating this ball and chain when I feel like I have nothing that interesting going on. On the contrary, I love reading other people's blogs even if it's just what they did that week.

So I'm combining my need to update with my love of listing.

1. As previously mentioned- I'm homeless. We moved out of base housing up north and drove a VERY packed Subie down to California with our two furry fart heads. D is back east for school for the next 5 months.

2. Separating from D this time around was easier than the first time. I lovelovelove that I can call him everyday and hear what he's up to.

3. I love our families. I love the time that I have to bounce between the two, and visit with those I haven't seen much of in the past couple of years.

4. I've only had one freak out. (Insert me patting my own back) I learned that I should not make major decisions when I'm upset. I also learned that I love my dog-dogs so. incredibly. much. For as much as they drive me up a wall they also bring so much comfort to my life.

5. I've decided that the next 5 months is me time: No medications. No doctor appointments. Cry when I want, but move forward. Focus on the blessings I have. Find happiness in the smallest things. Start working out again. (Wait... whaat?)

6. Got a new laptop and new phone. Woop woop! I feel so fancy that I have all my music on my phone!

7. Loving the sun and heat that California provides. I barely have clothes to stay cool but after two years in cold isolation- I think I'll deal.

8. Pinterest destroyed my life. And I blame Megan. But I have a lot of projects that I'll be tackling soon.

9. I love that I have two suitcases and a box that I'll be living out of for awhile... but I equally hate it, too.

10. I'm so looking forward to upcoming events and visiting friends.

Party's Over

Earlier this evening I was stalking browsing facebook and I found out some new information from a status update of a friend. Quite honestly the information stung me. Hard. It's interesting that information like this should still sting because, logically, I should be used to it by now.

Cue the pity party!

The next hour consisted of me preparing for the party, figuratively. I put up the decorations, filled the air with music, sprinkled the counter tops with finger foods and put on my best party dress. Then I waited for people to knock on the door even though I know people are not coming. Yet, I anxiously walk around the house asking myself what's taking people so long to arrive.

Then, somehow, I came upon more information about this friend's status update and I froze. Vaguely- there was no longer a reason for me to consumed by my pity. I ache for this person and hope I never have to deal with the same situation.

So. I turned off the party music. I carefully took down and packed away the decorations. The food was placed back in the fridge. I took off my party dress and threw it in the hamper. Finally, I turned off the porch light and locked the front door. The pity party was officially over.

While I'm enjoying a hot shower tonight I'll be reflecting upon the following words, that were spoken at the most recent Relief Society General Conference. I'm hoping that tomorrow's General Conference will give me more peace and comfort and that it will do the same for my aforementioned friend.

"...God is fully aware that you and I are not perfect... this drives us to create expectations for ourselves that are impossible to meet...everyone has strengths and weaknesses...it’s wonderful that you have strengths... and it is part of your mortal experience that you do have weaknesses... please remember also to be compassionate and patient with yourself..."

- Dieter F. Uchtdorf

Bridges for Freeways

Our house has morphed into a state of organized chaos. 

Moving is a military family's constant. It seems like six months after the very last box has been unpacked you're already talking about when you're moving next. It starts out being so vague ("Oh, in a few years.") and whittles down into something more specific. ("May 2012") Then it becomes tangible: "Three more months,"... "A couple weeks,"... "October __." This is where we are... we're in specifics.

It's crazy to think we've been here for two years. It seems like the longest two years ever. So much "life" happened when we were up here, and my list of Things I've Learned has grown. There are definitely somethings that I will miss up here but, at this point, I'm so. ready. to. leave. 


I can't wait to trade rain for sun, isolation for people, bridges for freeways, tourists for locals, mist for fog, lack of options for too many options, 3 bedroom house for a bedroom, Seattle/ Portland for San Fran/ L.A., rivers for pools and porcupines for.... wait I'll keep that last part. I still pee my pants with excitement when I see porcupines. 

And, so, the packing and painting continues....