Still Laughing

Holy shit.

Let's just say a lot can change in four years. That baby from my last post? He looks like this now:

Doing a magic trick at a favorite local toy store.

Oh yeah...and he's a big brother. And his little brother is now nearly the age he was when I last posted.

I didn't even pick a picture where he was making the same face as his brother on purpose; that's how much they look alike.

Snow bunnies.

Time flies?  No, no, no...time is a relentless son of a bitch that keeps marching on while you watch it slip through your fingers like water, leaving you parched and thirsty for more. Saying "time flies" makes it sound cute. Time takes no prisoners.

On that cheery note, I'm here again because of my dear friend Carrye and this blog post. Specifically this part:

"There’s a story I heard once (that I’m probably going to butcher) about a man around 60 who wanted a talented musician to teach him to play an instrument.  The musician said, “Sure, I’ll teach you.  You’ll be able to play well in five years.”  The would-be musician gasped, “Five years!  But that’s far too long to wait!”  And the gifted musician said, “In five years you can play well or in five years you can still not know how to play.  Either way, you’ll be five years older.” 

Perhaps more than ever before, this cut straight to my core. If you can pardon the cliche, becoming a mother not just once, but now twice over has helped me to understand that time waits for no one. You can look at a daunting task ahead of you - whether it's as mundane as the piles of dirty laundry that need to be done or as life-altering as pursuing a new career path - and you can either despair at what needs to be done or start working. The musician in the story above illustrates the obvious, if not illusive, truth: the time will pass anyway.  The only choice you have is how you spend it. The simplest tasks are often the most difficult though, right? Just. Start.

So here I am. Starting. Without even really knowing where I'm going, just that I have to be here.

You can blame Carrye. I do.

Now to go in search of some new direction and purpose. It's almost needless to say, but the person that started this blog more than nine years ago is virtually a stranger to me. Marriage, home-ownership, and, perhaps most of all, being a full-time mom for over four years now has completely torn down the person that I used to be and when I look back at those old entries I almost don't recognize myself. I know I wrote those things...I know the person in the pictures is me...but I feel like I'm reading someone else's story. It's like an out-of-body experience.  But there are a few things that still remain true:

1. I still love lists.
It's a sickness, really. A glorified procrastination technique that makes me feel like I'm being productive. In the case of writing, it's a shortcut. I tend to think faster than I can write, so making a list helps me get all of the thoughts out without having to pause and think about how they're interconnected. That kind of clarity usually comes later. My brain is a crowded place and it's hard to organize the strings of thought that I swear have greater purpose. Even this entry will be written, re-written, and trimmed until it makes sense. But first I have to get all of the thoughts out. Otherwise I wind up sitting at my computer staring at the screen while my mind races, thinking of all the things all at once. My skull is downright cacophonous.

2. I'm still laughing until I cry.
Humor is my most favorite tool as a writer and a person. Even horrible things can be softened and better understood after having a good laugh. It's healing...unifying. If you don't believe me, try to think of the last time you were still mad at someone after they made you laugh. See? I love the power in that kind of joy. I was talking with my husband recently (and I use the word "talking" because it's prettier and more optimistic than "arguing") and attempting to explain why I feel like I need constant reassurance in our relationship (and, perhaps more importantly, why I think he should have no problem providing me with a steady stream of validation). In an attempt to illustrate the kind of verbal affirmation I longed for, I decided I'd tell him what I loved most about him. I was mad, so I was admittedly struggling to come up with a list in the moment. But even as I stared into space grasping at why I was doing life with this man I presently wasn't terribly fond of I was able to blurt out, "You make me laugh." It sounds feeble (because it was), but it hints at how important laughter is to me. In truth, I harbor a lot of darkness. Having levity is crucial or I'll drown in it. As the saying goes, "I laugh because I'll cry if I don't." And sometimes I do both.  Honestly, those times are the best.

3. I still have to write.
I've been compelled to write for as long as I can remember. And before I could write, I would just talk without ceasing. My mom is fond of telling me that when I was little she used to beg me to be quiet for just a little bit and, being a child who was always eager to please, I would respond, "OK, Mommy, I'll stop talking...I'll stop talking now, Mommy...now I'll stop talking, Mommy...OK, NOW I'll stop talking......how long should I stop talking, Mommy?" I'm realizing now that number 1 and 3 in this list are probably related. My constantly buzzing brain needs to spill over or I'll go crazy. I have to process externally or I can't organize the thoughts at all. And though I'm embarrassed to admit it, I have this nagging feeling I have something worthwhile to say. Exactly what that is I have yet to figure out, but I'm getting there. Of course I could shut up for a bit and think about what I'm saying first, but that would be un-American of me. I think first I have to get brave enough to lay my soul bare...or at least finally accept the fact that I am utterly transparent and anything I have to say would not be a surprise to anyone that knows me anyway.  Probably the latter.

But more than all of those, I've resigned myself to writing not because anyone will ever read it, but because I have to write it. And that's OK. Sending my voice out into cyberspace is my message in a bottle...tossed out into the abyss in the hope that someone will read and connect with it, but knowing full well that may never happen. I may not even stick with it, which would be reasonable to assume because I haven't in the past. But I'll resist the temptation to apologize (to no one) and understand that if I don't do it...if I don't just try and start typing and hit "publish" whether I think I've said something worthwhile or not...four years will pass anyway and I will have done nothing to answer this persistent call.

Here goes nothing.

Puppies and Babies

There are few things in life cuter than puppies and babies, right?

As a new parent and big lover of dogs, I was recently reflecting on the frequent comparisons people make between babies and puppies.  Such comparisons seem all too appropriate to some and can be incredibly irritating to others, and I think these days I'm falling squarely in the middle.  I can say for certain, though, that before I actually had a real live newborn in my life, I thought having a puppy was a whole lot like having a baby.  This is evidenced by the following statement from the blog entry I did (and recently re-read) shortly after we got Ginger (she was about 10 weeks old at the time): "Taking care of her has definitely been challenging. She needs constant attention (and I do mean constant)..."

To quote the timeless film The Princess Bride in regard to my use of the word "constant" right there, "I do not think that word means what you think it means."  I had no concept of the kind of time and attention a baby person of roughly the same age would require.  It used to drive me absolutely crazy when people used to say things like "'You don't know what having a baby is like until you go through it yourself."  Partially because I wanted to start a family very badly and I felt it was an insensitive thing to say (I still think it is...but that's a different subject entirely) but also because it's a pretty obvious statement.  Couldn't it be said that you don't know what anything in life is like until you experience it yourself?  Say, seeing the Grand Canyon, going sky diving, or myriad other things?  But the thing that was different for me about having a baby is that it completely shifted my standards in a way that nothing else had.  I experienced the extremes of things in ways I previously thought impossible.  Pain.  Exhaustion.  Worry.  Love.

But in my earlier self's defense, there are certainly some aspects of dog ownership that prepared me well for motherhood.  Because I'm fond of numbered lists, I shall give you the top four:

1.  Having a puppy helps you care less about your stuff.

When a dog or two has already made herself at home in your house you kind of get used to having your things peed, pooped, vomited, and drooled on, so when a baby comes along and does the same, it just doesn't phase you all that much.

2.  Having a puppy teaches you that you can love something even when it is completely disgusting.

Somewhere between cleaning doggy diarrhea out of your carpet and attempting to gather your darling puppy's pee pee for a urine test while she squats on the grass in front of the vet's office, you realize you'd do anything for that little fur ball...and even more than that, while it's undeniably gross, these things just don't seem that bad because she's YOUR dog.  I'd say the same is true for my little son.  Things I once thought would be downright gag-inducing just aren't really that bad because, well, he's mine.  I don't even care when the hair at the nape of his neck is sour-smelling and crusted with spit-up or he somehow has poop on his feet.  Albeit I'll give him a bath ASAP because I care about his general well-being, but I don't mind doing it one bit.  I don't even mind when he pees on me almost as soon as I get him out of the bath because I didn't get his diaper on quickly enough. 

3.  Having a puppy makes you realize that being responsible for another living thing is actually pretty hard.

Not that my life was ever particularly exciting, but having to get home to feed and let the dogs out can sometimes limit your social life.  If nothing else, it gives you a fairly rigid curfew.  Having a child to take care of is obviously more limiting since you can't leave a baby home by himself for hours on end with nothing but a bowl of water and a soft place to lie down (maybe a few toys to chew on) and NOT expect to be arrested for negligence, but needing to keep a pup's well-being in mind definitely makes it so you can't just always think about yourself.

4.  Having a puppy (or any pet, most likely) begins to break your heart and make you vulnerable...but in a good way.

This one is hard to explain, but I'll try.  When we got Ginger, and then Pepper, I started to care for all animals way more than I did before.  Even wild animals...squirrels, racoons, what have you.  Road kill became an utterly heart-breaking sight.  Animals dying in TV shows or movies was unbearable.  That Sara McLachlan commercial for the ASPCA?  Don't even go there.  I think because, all of a sudden, all things soft and furry suddenly made me think of MY dogs.  And thinking about anything bad happening to them ripped my heart wide open.  With the birth of my son the same is true...in an exponential kind of way.  My heart has been ripped wide open all of the time.  I'm now one of those people that cries when they get a particularly touching greeting card.  It's not great.  But at the same time, it kind of is.  Life just feels bigger now.  More meaningful.  It's good, but it can be painful at times.  I feel like my two pups opened the door for that.  Maybe it's simply the act of caring for someone or something that relies on you completely.  I don't even think having children would necessarily do that for everyone (after all, having children period isn't for everyone), but that's what it did for me.  It forced me to think beyond myself in a big way.

When my little man is actually big enough to play with those dogs, and when they actually start to show affection for him, my heart is going to freaking explode with joy.  But all of this is to say...I get it.  I do remember what it was like before my son was in my life and really, sometimes dogs and kids do bear some striking similarities.  Like this Huffington Post blogger once wrote: "Oh! Yes. I also have something in my life that poops AND brings me joy."  Amen to that, three times over.

Reboot

Excuse my French but…holy shit.  What a difference 3.5 FREAKING YEARS makes.  Literally most of the major events that will happen to one person over their lifetime have occurred in my life since my last blog post.   To avoid an obscenely long entry and get caught up fast, I’ll do this in a numbered list and pictures. Ok?  Let’s go.

1. Shane and I got engaged.

    

2. We got a second dog.  Her name is Pepper.

3. I got a new job (no picture for this one…sorry folks).

4. We bought a freaking house (A house that I somehow honestly don’t have pictures of.  Probably for the best.  I don’t want any of you people being able to track me down…creeps).

5. We got married.

6-7. Shane got a new job…and then another new job (no picture for this one either).

8. I got a new job at my current job (i.e. I applied for—and received—a different job at the same organization).

9. I got pregnant.  Yes, it’s Shane’s.

10. Shane and I decided I’d leave my job to take care of our son full time (another pictureless event…I’m not even sure what a picture of that decision would look like).

11. Our little man was born on Christmas day 2013…just two days after my last day of work and one day before my due date.

12. Shane got a new job…and has been to Israel and back for said job and we’re not even a month in yet.  Madness.

It’s probably been the most eventful three and a half years of my entire life…which would explain the lack of time for blogging.  But now I’m back!  Or at least I’m going to try to be back.  I’m making it a personal goal to write an entry at least once a week if for no other reason than to sit down, write, and momentarily break free from the “hamster wheel” that stay-at-home life can occasionally feel like (running around, exerting lots of energy yet somehow feeling like you’re not actually getting anywhere).  Plus it’s fun.  I enjoy story-telling and attempting to be witty, so why not?

I’m not even sure how to end this entry…this is already going very well.  See you next week?  Perhaps?

Oh boy… 

Happy Halloween!

After a long, inexcusable period of neglect, I am writing a new blog post! Needless to say, a lot has happened since July, so I'll stick to the big stuff from earlier this week and this weekend.

First off, I was in the Blue Man Group show this week at The Bushnell. No really! See?


This is me at "the feast" with my three new, blue friends. Despite what you might be thinking, this was not a set up. I can see why you would think so, considering I work at The Bushnell and all, but honest to God I had no idea this was coming and neither did anyone else I work with. I was just sitting in my seat, minding my own business, when suddenly all three Blue Men were standing at the end of the aisle...staring at me. I'd seen the show before so I knew what was most likely going to happen next. My inner monologue went a little something like this: "Oh no...ooohhhh no...no! No, not me! No! I work here! It should definitely be someone else...please don't pick me."

But before I knew it one of them was standing right in front of me with his hand extended. So I took it. And he dragged me up on stage. This is when I had a moment of panic.

I was chewing gum.

Why is this a problem, you ask? Because I KNEW this bit involved eating Twinkies. And there was absolutely nowhere for me to spit out my gum. So I did the only thing I could do.

I swallowed it.

The rest of the experience was a bit of a blur. There was lots of laughing by both me and the audience, fun with Twinkies, a Polaroid picture, and a wee bit of grossness...and then it was over and I was back in my seat with a Polaroid, a plastic knife, and a Chinese take-out box full of mushy bananas in hand. What a great, memorable experience. People kept telling me I did a great job as I walked out after the show was over. I couldn't stop smiling.

The other thing I have to share doesn't really have much of a story that goes with it...but quite a few more pictures. Ladies and gentleman...Ginger Snap Root-Beatty in her very first Halloween costume:


Oh my little squishy! I know, I know...she's obviously miserable. And this is an awful, humiliating thing to do to a dog. But isn't she cute???

Here she is taking a little whiff of the camera...


Here she is making an unbearably cute sad puppy face...


An aerial shot...


She's my little sweat pea! Get it???


How can you not just absolutely LOVE that face? She's such a sweet little pup. And tolerant. That's my good little girl. :)

(Don't worry...she's out of the costume now. She happily lounging on the couch next to me right now enjoying a nice nap.)

Happy Halloween!!!

Long Beach Island: Days 1 & 2

Wow...so much has happened in the past month. Ginger has been growing like a weed (a very cute weed, of course...I'll have to post new pictures soon), we've now been in the new apartment for about a month, work has been crazy, and we've finally arrived at the Long Beach Island I thought would never come. Yesterday my dad, his wife Lisa, my sister Hillary, Shane and I set off in a Volkswagen caravan (Lisa's Passat...I think...wagon and my little Jetta) and approximately 6 ridiculously hot hours later, we were there. Here is a real life picture of the dash in my car at one of the hottest points yesterday...


That right...109. 109?!? I thought I was going to die. But, fortunately, I made it through the day and now here we are...sitting inside waiting for the inevitable thunderstorm that's going to come. Well...that doesn't sound very good...but believe me, it's heaven. I'm at the beginning of a whole week of nothing but relaxation and I'm going to savor every single moment. There will be much book-reading and nap-taking and, while just about everyone else in the house is planning an exercising regularly this week, I plan on doing no such thing. Ahhhh...this is the life!

And while I claimed I was going to blog every day like I usually do while I'm on vacation, I don't think I'm going to do that either. So I apologize to anyone who was looking forward to my exciting daily entires about how we sat on the beach, ate some food, then sat on the beach some more, but I'm going to take this relaxation thing very seriously. I'll try to snap some pics and maybe post a summary entry at the end of the week. Maybe. HA! This is going to be awesome. Week o' relaxation, here I come! Don't be too jealous. ;)

Puppy Love

Last week I fell in love. And so did Shane. With this...


We did not intend to get a dog on Monday, June 7. Shane and I have been talking about getting a dog for quite some time but we had said we would wait until at least a couple of months after we moved. We had every intention of adopting a shelter dog too. So when our friend and co-worker, Amanda told us there was a very sweet cockapoo puppy at Puppy Center (where her husband's cousin works...I think...right?) we thought we'd just go down and check her out because cockapoos were one of the breeds we were considering. We gave each other a little pep talk before we went (as we've done pretty much every time we've visited Puppy Center) and said "We're not going to be getting this dog. We're just visiting." (Really this pep talk is more for me than it is for Shane...) And then we headed on into the store.

We were not prepared for this...


This little pup was everything Amanda said she would be and more. A very nice girl working at the store couldn't stop telling us about how wonderful this dog is and how she's one of a kind and on and on and on...gushing about this tiny little girl.

But there were so many obstacles we would have to overcome to get a dog right now. First of all, the apartment we're currently living in doesn't allow pets. Second, Shane's roommates did not necessarily want a dog in the house. And third, we were going to be moving in about two weeks and we still had a lot to do before we'd be ready.

But even with all of that working against us, we began scheming about how we could make it work.

(A picture of the little girl playing with Shane.)


Puppy Center said they would hold her for a little while if we paid for her now, we could ask my mom to keep her for us until we moved...we agonized for hours over the decision.

And then we finally came to the decision that we could make it work. She was our dog. We just knew it. And we were going to do whatever we had to do to have her. My mother very graciously agreed to care for her until we moved to our new apartment and we began thinking about what we'd need to do to prepare for her.

But then there was a wonderful twist. Our present roommates were surprisingly ok with our decision to get a dog and said it would be alright if she stayed at the apartment with us. We were thrilled. So we instead changed our plans so that she would stay with us for the most part before the move, and then go to my mom's for the time leading up to the move when we'd really need to focus on packing and wouldn't be able to give her enough attention. While she was with us in West Hartford, we would take turns going home during our lunch break to let her out and feed her.

So we paid for her and gave her a name (that we also agonized over...for days)...Ginger Snap Root-Beatty. And we had our dog. The cutest, sweetest, smartest little pup there ever was.

(A rare moment...taking a little nap on my lap at my mom's house...)



Taking care of her has definitely been challenging. She needs constant attention (and I do mean constant) and all of this is coming at an already stressful point in our lives...but I don't regret the decision one bit. I can't wait to watch her grow and learn new things and just generally become intertwined in our lives. This is the start of something good.

Niagara Road Trip, Day Five: Flowers and Butterflies

So today is our last day in Niagara Falls. We did get a whole extra day that we didn't plan for, but it still doesn't feel like we've been here long. Today we did some non-Falls-related activities and went to the Floral Showhouse and the Butterfly Conservatory. Lots of pretty pictures were taken! Here are just a few...

Here's a sign for the Floral Showhouse...


A turtle in a little pool inside the Showhouse...


There's a little baby turtle in this picture (though he looks just as big as the larger turtle in the previous picture because the camera is zoomed in)...can you find him?

Here are some of the plants that were growing in the showhouse...





Me in front of a statue in the hydrangea display...


Shane with the hydrangeas....


Another pretty flower...


A cool looking tropical bird (there were others but they were hard to take pictures of)...


And here are some pictures from the Butterfly Conservatory...




A butterfly landed on Shane's shoulder...


...twice...


No butterflies landed on me because I got all flinchy and spastic whenever they got close. I didn't mean to! I just get nervous about bugs...even if they're pretty and I wouldn't mind if they crawled on me.

There were some poisonous frogs on display too...they were in a little aquarium...


After leaving the Butterfly Conservatory we jumped aboard a shuttle and headed back to our hotel to chill out for a while. Later we're planning on going to Johnny Rocket's for an early dinner and then we'll take a stroll over to the big ferris wheel that's supposed to give you a very nice view of the Falls. I am determined not to let my fear of heights get the best of me.

Tomorrow we'll be heading out early to begin the long drive home. It's been a really wonderful vacation...we were so unbelievably lucky at just about every turn! I hope anyone reading has enjoyed the stories and pictures!