Finding Your Tribe

How many of you feel that you have found your tribe?  Like your group of peeps that are “ride or die bitches” as my one girlfriend says.  The ones that you know will be there not just for the good, but also for the shitty, messy, ugly parts of life?

If you answered yes, I have this to say to you:  I’m jealous and be grateful.  Since moving to Hotlanta, I lost my (local) tribe.  I had a terrific group of close girlfriends in LA.  Ones that I could call on a moment’s notice and go over to their house if something was happening with me.  Since becoming a mom, I’ve really struggled to find a new tribe that I identify with.

Case in point – this weekend I went with 3 other acquaintances to Bad Moms.  The movie was fantastic and hysterical at times, but there were parts of it that made me really emotional, thinking about my daughter, and I was tearing up/crying.  Because in the movie, the lead character finds her tribe of weird mom friends.  Genuine friends that care about her!  The message really hit me.  I cried.  A lot.

Not one of them asked me if I was OK during or after the movie. Not one of them said a fucking word about my tears.  None of them cried.  During the movie credits, the actresses were filmed chatting with their own moms, and I cried even more.  That part hit me especially hard because of my shitty (non-existent) relationship with my own mom.  I couldn’t wait to leave to get away from them and be with my family.  I cried the entire drive home, thinking to myself, “None of these women are your real friends.  Not a single fucking one of them.”  Superficial.  They are what I like to call good time friends.  You see them when it’s a good time….but when it gets rough, they scatter and are nowhere to be found.

If I’m going to spend time away from my daughter and my husband, I want it to be with quality people.  People that want to know what is honestly going on with me.  People who want the real story of my life.  Not the glossy, positive only Facebook type picture of my life.  Because that shit ain’t real.  And I don’t have time for people in my life who are fake.

For those of you that have found your tribe, how’d you do it?  Especially you moms…how did you find a good group of women that help to support and love you?  I need any advice or suggestions you may have.

What is Going On With Me?

Last week we had a sitter and were able to meet up with a large group of friends for drinks. And we uber’d there so this momma could drink!  And there were several scintillating convos from that night that have my brain working overtime.

First convo was with the Hubs’ director.  We got to talking about swapping babysitting each other’s kids since we both don’t have  family in the area. To which he replied something about wife swapping and how he’d need to get to know me a little better. In my tipsy state I told him not to tease. Later on in the night, after a few more beers, I told him “well fuck you then”. I honestly cannot recall what the specific topic was that prompted me to say that to him but I remember it being playful banter. He made a smartass comment in return. And now all I can think about is screwing my husband’s director. LOL  To be honest there are a few of his male colleagues that I think are attractive for various reasons.

Inappropriate?  Totally!  But my husband’s director is my age, good looking, completely driven and has a great sense of humor. I’d totally sleep with him!

The other convo was with a girlfriend that was with us and she told me she “Netflix’d and chilled” with another mutual girlfriend. Go to urban dictionary if you don’t know the phrase. But be warned – that site can be quite vulgar. I was shocked and asked, “For real?”  My friend excitedly shook her head yes.

When the hubs and I discussed later that weekend we were bummed as we always thought we were the most scandalous Couple out of our group of friends. Hearing about this made us wonder if we really were?!?  We talked about wanting to up our game on the freak front. Truthfully we’ve been talking about this on and off for awhile but this has fueled that fire.

I’m not sure how we will engage in more scandalous behavior, but I’ll be sure to keep you posted…

Do You Even See Me?

I’m sitting here, it’s barely 8AM, and I’ve been awake for over 4 hours already.  Our kiddo has been having frequent wake ups, which I attribute to our turn and burn Seattle trip.  And I am fucking exhausted.  Her last wakeup at 3:45AM the husband got up to soothe her, but after about 30 minutes of her crying for momma and boo boo, he relented and she came running into our bedroom.  And yet, in a middle of the night parenting conversation, tells me he doesn’t want her to be nursing all the time.  Um, OK.  You let her come nurse because you couldn’t get her back to sleep…so do you not want her to nurse at all, or only when it’s convenient for you?  Do you even see my exhaustion?  Do you even see that I’m completely out of gas?

I’m the kind of exhausted where you feel drunk without the alcohol induced euphoria.  Everything feels woozy.  I feel sick to my stomach.  I tried to get her back to sleep around 5:30, when the hubs left for the gym, but she only slept for about 45 minutes.  Momma did not sleep.  Laid in bed with that tired wired feeling where you are too amped up to get any shut eye.

The day trudges on and gives zero fucks about my tiredness.  I discovered yesterday that our dog has blood in his piss, so I have a vet appointment at 9AM.  At 1PM, I have a 2 hour appointment for paperwork and other stuff related to my new job.  Dinner needs to get made because the toddler probably wants to eat.  The house really needs to be cleaned but that ain’t happening anytime soon.  I’m trying to find backup childcare for V because my husband told me 2 days ago that he plans to head to the Netherlands next week for work.  Monday night.  Thanks for leaving me alone for my first week on a new job.  I want to find someone in case she is sick or needs to come home from daycare, because I do not want to have to leave early during the day from my new job.  I want to scream at him, “Do you even realize all that I’ll have to do on my own while you are halfway around the fucking world?!?”  The answer, of course, is no.

He doesn’t see that I’ve quit asking for a date night, because I’m tired of telling him that it’s important that we have 1-1 time together for our relationship.  He doesn’t see that I’ve quit asking to go to couples therapy because it obviously isn’t a priority for him.  He doesn’t even see that I’ve stopped asking to have weekly discussions on finances and parenting because I’m the only one to initiate and I’m sick of bringing it up.  He doesn’t see that I have no energy or desire to fuck him at all.  He doesn’t see how tired I am of asking and asking for him to help me with things around the house that I’ve decided it’s a waste of my breath and precious energy.  He doesn’t see the imposition he puts upon me when he decides last minute to travel for business.  He doesn’t see all that I do.  Nor does he appreciate it either.  He doesn’t see that not only am I running on fumes, that our relationship is running on fumes too.

He doesn’t even see.  He doesn’t even see me.  At all.

Mixed Reviews

Sharing a few updates…some positive, some meh.  Let me set the stage for you on the marital bliss front tonight:  I’m on our deck, paying bills and enjoying watching the storm approach, while the hubs is couch surfing, on his phone (as per usual) while the TV drones on and on in the background.  I think he’s barely said 10 words to me since he got home at 7PM.  I’m trying not to take it personally…he’s had a long day and I’m guessing he wanted to unwind in peace.  It’s ok honey, let me cook dinner and clean up, get the toddler ready for bed and walk the dog.  You just sit there!!!!!

The good update – I’m no longer jobless!  YAY!!!!  I start my new gig next Monday the 18th.  It was a long process…I had interviewed last month (6/10) and am only starting now.  Offer negotiation, drug screening, pre-employment health screening and then finally orientation!  I’m really excited about the new role, as I’m doing business intelligence work in a clinical/healthcare environment.  This is a new area to me, but am SO geeked that I will be learning about it.  I’m going to get certified in EPIC, which is the electronic health record most hospitals and healthcare organizations use, so I figure this is my insurance for being able to get a job anywhere.  Anytime.

I’m a little nervous about starting back to work, because, well, it’s been 6 fucking months since I worked.  6 months!  My friend said it seemed like yesterday….and I wish I had felt that way.  This time has really dragged on for me and has been fraught with worry, so I’m happy to get back to some type of regular routine. And paycheck.  Fer real on the paycheck.

Which brings up a not so great update.  I filed for unemployment in early June, and have yet to receive a determination.  How incredibly shitty is that?  I mean, I’m thankful that we weren’t (and aren’t) living paycheck to paycheck, but for fuck’s sake, how would anyone survive having to wait over a month to know if you’ve been approved or not?!?  It is not something that anyone could even rely on and that’s a sad fact.  Much about our country seems sad these days.

Our Seattle trip was overall good.  We had a huge fight on the trail to Poo Poo Point.  And I’m seriously not shitting you on that name.  (See what I did there?!? Ha!!!!)  It is totally legit and I think it’s fabulous that our family hiked that trail.  Mind you, we did not make it to the top of Poo Poo Point.  You could say we had a blowout of sorts.  Husband had told me we were gonna hike for “an hour or so” and after 2 solid hours of hiking, I discover we have a scant amount of food for our toddler.  Who was scream crying for more food.  I became the bad guy for wanting to turn around and not try to make it to the summit because our daughter was hungry.  We resolved our fight on the way back, and I’m glad that we did.  I’d also call it progress for me because I didn’t really give a shit in that moment if I was the bad guy.  And usually I acquiesce if I’m feeling like the bad guy.

And our relationship has been kind of meh these days.  I go back and forth with how I’m feeling.  For those of you that have been married longer (we are going on 8+ years) do you often feel this way too?  I wonder if we’re going through a difficult season, or if something has fundamentally shifted in our relationship?  I know that having our daughter was a huge adjustment (and we’re still adjusting) but does it ever get easier?  It feels hard these days, and often I’m too tired to want to put in any effort.  Like I’m schlepping through wet cement.  I think this is a woman and mom thing more so….I mean for gawd’s sake, the kid needs constant care and attention, the dog is whining to get walked, everyone has to eat, people gotta have clean clothes, then it’s time to go night night, etc.  Plus I need to work out and try to do some shit for myself….and at the end of all that, sometimes I think to myself, “Husband you want to what?  You want to fuck me?  I have no energy left for that…”

And on that note, I’m taking my tired ass to bed.

I’ll Take The Shits for $350, please.

When you read that headline, isn’t that exactly what you envision for your anniversary?  No?  Well it wasn’t what I envisioned either…but that’s what happened.  And still happening.

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Dessert!

Let me set the scene for you.  We decided to take a trip to Napa for our anniversary with the kiddo in tow.  I had even found a local nanny service with terrific reviews so that the hubs and I could have some alone time.  He found a restaurant with great reviews, and booked us a reservation on our anniversary.  He even went so far as to let the restaurant know it was our anniversary too!  (Bonus points for him on this….I believe I owe him a quality BJ at some point for this good work.)

We got to the restaurant early and enjoyed this scenic view.

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View from our table

We sampled different Napa wines from their extensive list.  We had a delicious three course meal, with the chef even sending out two additional small plates for us, free of charge.  Seriously, the food was divine!  At one point, I had even said to the hubs, “I think I may have just come a little…” because the food was THAT good.

 

Our dinner was so good for a number of reasons.  We got the opportunity to talk about plans for the future, about things in our marriage we should keep doing, things we should start doing, things we should stop doing.  We had the rare opportunity to spend time with each other, without one of us being distracted with one eye trying to pay attention to our spouse and one eye watching our kiddo.

On our ride home, my stomach began to rumble very deeply.  I remember commenting that I didn’t feel so hot.  We get back to our hotel, pay the nanny, got the report on how V was, and then I exited to the bathroom where I shit the entire contents of my dinner out.  I was also feeling sick to my stomach, and I was praying to the porcelain god and any other god that would listen, that puking wouldn’t follow the diarrhea.  To be sick from one end is bad enough, but to have it coming out of both ends is truly awful.

We racked our brains trying to figure out what the offending dish may have been, as we both were pretty sure I had a case of food poisoning.  I think it was my 3rd course, which was squab.

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The offending dish (I’m sorry little squab)

It was supposed to be medium rare, but I think it was mostly rare.  I didn’t ask for them to cook it more, and in hindsight, I really should have.  Because I looked at it and thought “That’s too pink to eat” but ate it anyway.  And am now paying the consequences for my dumbass move.

 

And for those of you that may want to judge me for eating squab.  Please don’t as I’ve already beaten myself up enough over this.  You see, when I ordered, I thought squab was a type of pheasant.  Because we were in a fancy schmancy restaurant, I wasn’t going to be the unsophisticated type to ask “What is squab?” Growing up in the Midwest, I came from a hunting and fishing family, so we regularly ate wild game, including rabbit, squirrel, pheasant, deer, fish we caught, etc.  It was only later on that I googled and discovered that squab was pigeon.  Young pigeon. And I felt morally conflicted for having eaten a young pigeon.  The hubs didn’t help when he was jutting his neck in and out like pigeons do when they walk.

I’m writing this post 5 days after the dinner in question, and I’m still shitting my life away.  I’ve felt truly awful since Monday evening.  In addition to the diarrhea, I’ve felt bloated, gassy, nauseated, and just icky in general.  I dropped off the kiddo at daycare this morning, and as I walked to my car, I started crying, muttering to myself, “I just want to stop feeling like shit!”

Sigh.  At least was a memorable anniversary.  How about that for a positive spin?

P.S.  Had to post this real life pic from our trip.

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This is vacation with a toddler.  

Hubs was trying to get some nice pics of me and the kiddo together, because it’s almost always her and him in photos, with me behind the camera.  He managed to snap a pic of her pitching a fit, and me trying to protect her melon from making contact with the pavement.  I love the contrast of this beautiful scenery behind me, with a flailing child in front of me.  Ah, the joys of parenthood.

Wrapping this up so I can go shit my life away.  Again.

 

At An Impasse…

Last Sunday, the hubs had asked me if I was feeling left out because he’s doing things on Saturday with the kiddo when I’m in class.  His question led to a great conversation how I am feeling left out, how I feel that he makes times for the things that he wants to do, but doesn’t make time for us as a couple.  It was hard for me to say to him, but it’s how I’ve been feeling lately.  He was really supportive and gentle with me on Sunday.  That’s why I was so confused about tonight’s exchange.

He comes back from picking up dinner for us, and is telling me about a conversation with a supplier.  He’s going on and on, and I’m frustrated.  He was gone for an event, which was in town but required him to stay at a hotel, so I was managing the household.  And the kiddo was up for over an hour in the middle of the night.  Every.  Fucking.  Night. pretty much for weeks.  I’m exhausted, anxious, worried, and in general, not in very good spirits these days.  So as he continues to tell me about this convo, I get pissed.  And he asks me what is wrong…and I tell him, that I feel like everyone else gets billing with him but me.  And that I get what is typically left over, which is not much, if anything.

His reply to me?  I’m blaming him for everything since I’m not happy right now.  I told him that I didn’t think I was blaming him, as this has been a consistent issue for me.  He tells me, through pursed lips, that he doesn’t know what to say.  And then followed with ice cold silence for the rest of dinner.  I’m so hurt, and I’m mad, and I’m at my wits end at being ignored or iced out.

I didn’t feel like I was attacking him, I really didn’t.  I didn’t name call him – I didn’t say “YOU are not doing this…” or “YOU are not doing that…”  I used “I” language to try to express myself like an adult.  And for what?  A deflection that somehow having needs is “blame” and then feeling this ever growing sense of loneliness enveloping me.  I’m going through this HUGE life change, where I’m trying to figure out a new career/job, while not trying to take things personally about being laid off, and I don’t even feel as though my husband has my back.  I don’t feel like he understands (or cares to understand) what a big emotional deal this is for me.  It’s the first time in my life I’ve NOT worked (besides maternity leave….but that had a definitive start and end).

He checked out for the rest of the evening.  He didn’t speak to me.  In fact, he went to bed at the same time our 15 month old daughter did.  It just makes my heart hurt, because the distance between us grows each time he chooses silence over discussion.  Another wall goes up every time he chooses to not talk about the very real issues that are happening in our marriage.

I’m left here, alone, on the couch wondering, what can I really do?  What options do I have if someone doesn’t want to engage?  What can I do if someone would rather check out than recognize their partner is going through a very difficult time and they don’t even bother to try to comfort them?

We are totally at an impasse.  And I have no fucking clue what to do.  I’m heartbroken, and so tired of crying.  And tired of being alone.

Body After Baby

I’ve been dumbfounded at what has happened to my body after having my daughter.   No one prepares you for the shit that happens to you in the weeks and months after giving birth.  I hear everyone talk about enjoying the time with the baby!  And sleep when the baby sleeps!  But the reality is that you are not only dealing with a new role in your life, as a mother, you are also dealing with the very real physical changes that come along with motherhood.  Those that say that you’ll be back in your jeans in no time or that breastfeeding melts the pounds away – fuck you, you goddamn liars!

I feel the need to preface this for any men that may read this post.  If you have a significant other, and she hasn’t given birth yet, you may want to cruise on past this post.  A ‘read at your own risk’ kind of warning.  I’m going to describe things that are:  embarrassing, horrifying, ugly, and generally unpleasant.  This shit is frightening and I think my husband still hasn’t recovered from all the trauma yet.

My birth was pretty traumatic and to make a long story short, there were forceps involved.  I had had an epidural but I felt everything!  I was pretty much a wreck downstairs for several months postpartum.  I am pretty sure that I had some type of nerve damage from the forceps, because initially during sex I had a huge loss in sensation (some has since returned).  Honest to God, I had times during sex where I was tempted to ask my husband, “Is it in yet?” because I didn’t feel ANY. THING.  And this had nothing to do with the size of my husband’s junk.  Some positions were better than others, but overall it was a devastating feeling not to feel much of anything.  Even now, 15 months later, I still feel as though I have decreased sensation.  And it takes me much longer to physically be ready for sex.  All in all, sex has not been that enjoyable for me post-baby.

The return home with baby was memorable.  I had a 9 lb. baby and when I came home 2 days later, I only weighed 4 lbs. less.  You do the math on that one.  I was so swollen from all of the IV fluids that I’d had that it took weeks for me to lose any significant amount of weight.  The night we came home, I walked into the house and felt this warm sensation running down the inside of my thigh and down my leg.  I thought it might have been some type of bleeding, and went immediately to the bathroom.  It wasn’t blood….I had pissed my pants.  With zero warning or signal from my body!

It got better when a few days later, while wearing my sexy adult diaper and putting dishes in the dishwasher, I felt something down below and before I knew it, it was already too late.  I was crapping myself.  Again, no warning!  Nothing!  Not even an SOS that a code brown was coming!!!!  I remember whispering to my husband, who was next to me, “I am shitting my pants…” and he grabbed me by the elbow, and in a rush, tried to escort me to the bathroom.  I just shook my head and said quietly, “Just leave me here.”  The damage had already been done.  The moment of humiliation happened.  I cried so hard that night.  It’s so frustrating to feel like you have no control over your bodily functions!

I distinctly remember going for my first run after getting cleared at my 6 week check-up.  During my run I had full on pissed my pants.  Not just a tinkle.  Not just a little pee pee.  I had fucking soaked my pants.  I walked in the door, and the hubs excitedly asked how my run had went and I burst into tears!  It took several minutes to even get the words out to tell him what had happened.  It was that kind of ugly cry.

When I’m not dealing with physical issues from my birth battle wounds, there are the emotional ones that are just as tough.  The hubs and I had been talking about sex, and things that we like, and I bravely confessed that I’m sad he hasn’t gone down on me since before I was pregnant.  That’s like over 2 years!

He had explained, that with my issue with certain bodily functions, that he may get peed on during the deed.  That’s why he’d been hesitant to go down on me.  In his defense, I totally get his hesitation.  On Sunday, while our daughter was sleeping, we were in the middle of getting it on, and my husband started to do what I had missed for 2 years – he went down on me!

I wish I could tell you that I enjoyed it.  But I didn’t.  At all.  I was afraid to enjoy it.  I was afraid that I would indeed pee on him, even though the whole pissing myself thing rarely happens any longer.  I partially credit hoo-ha therapy (Yes!  I went to hoo-ha therapy…or pelvic floor therapy) and getting back into workout routine with the decrease.  I was afraid to climax because what if I did pee on him?  And then there was the whole thought process of what my vagina looks like after pushing out a  baby and tearing during the process…and well, yeah, Operation Downtown was a big fucking flop.

I sit here thinking, “Why are you writing all this embarrassing shit about yourself, Robin?  What’s the fucking point of all this?”  And honestly, maybe this will help someone.  This is stuff that I wished I had known about before becoming a mother.  So I wouldn’t feel so emotionally jarred when these things occurred.  Had I known, then I would have been able to tell myself, “Hey buddy girl, this is a part of the process.  This happens to other moms.” Instead of feeling alone.  And dysfunctional.  And abnormal.

What I have realized out of all of this is that I am grateful for my husband for helping me find my new normal.  And our new normal as a couple.  I’ve also realized the need to be compassionate with myself.  That it takes time for your body (and your mind) to recover from giving birth.  I look at my little pooch on my stomach, and I’m not embarrassed, but I think incredulously, “I grew my daughter in there!”  And there’s a strength that comes from having gone through this whole process.  I approach things differently, because if I can grow and birth a human being, what else can I do?  What else am I capable of?

 

Parenting with Different Backgrounds

Last night was another fight in the Von Poopenberg household over our kid. Well maybe not fight. Let’s go with discussion instead.  Sure, that sounds better.

Today is the hubs birthday.  Last night, we had a sitter lined up and had plans to meet some friends for dinner and drinks.  We bring V home from daycare yesterday, and while I was holding her, she starts throwing up.  She threw up on me twice, and then again, after I had hauled her upstairs and had given her a bath.  She didn’t have a fever or anything, but I didn’t feel right about leaving her with a sitter while she’s not feeling well.  The hubs suggested that we go to dinner anyway, bring her, because she appears to be fine now.  I vehemently disagree.  As the time ticks away, we try to figure out what to do.  He tells me “I don’t want to leave you alone while she’s sick.”  I tell him I don’t feel comfortable leaving her, regardless of the reason why she is sick.  I tell him I want to stay home to monitor her.  Five minutes later, he tells me he’s going to meet our friends for drinks and will be back later.  With that, he grabbed his keys and left.

I was a bit dumbfounded.  And then I was angry.  So I put the kadiddle to bed, and I end up staying in the bedroom because I don’t want to be far away from her.  What if she throws up again?  Sure, I could turn on the monitor but I don’t want to be on another floor if she needs me right away.  So I lay in bed, reading for awhile.  I try to sleep but every time she rolls over or makes a sound, I sit straight up in bed panicked.  Then I sit listening, straining to make sure she is still breathing.  And still stewing about the earlier interaction with the hubs.

He starts texting me, telling me that “I felt bottled up and trying to understand your perspective when mine was fighting was making things hard on me” and “our perspectives were clashing in my head” so that’s why he left.  He got home later and we had a very pained conversation about it.  He doesn’t understand why I was so worried, because as he said, “If your finger was still attached, then it wasn’t a problem”…meaning in his family, you didn’t get attention for simple sickness.  Only when it was something catastrophic.  He went on to say that he is trying to see things from my perspective but he’s having a difficult time.  And that I’m a first time mother, so compared to his mom (who had 6 kids) I react differently.  So I tell him that from my point of view, when my kid is sick, that is my first priority.  And I’d rather be home with her than out and about.  And then I ask him, “After you’ve thrown up, for whatever the reason, did you feel like doing anything?!?”  And what I don’t tell him is that it felt like friends won out over his family.  That his daughter had thrown up three times, and he still felt the need to go out and have beers, even though he was out with the same gang the night before, and would be going out again tonight.

Our conversation ended with no real resolution.  I feel like we camped over in our corners, respectively, waiting for the bell to ding again for the next round of fighting.  I’m struggling to understand how he’d want to go out still (granted it was his birthday celebration) and he’s struggling to understand why I worry so much about her, when in his mind, she is fine.  I think our different styles of parenting are a positive thing – we both bring different strengths to the table, and that can only benefit our daughter in the long run.  But how do you come to some sort of compromise when you are in opposite corners?  How do you get each other to understand your point of view?

I’m stumped.  And kind of sad about that.  So I guess on that note, let me wish you all “Happy Fucking Valentine’s Day.”  This parenting shit is hard!

 

This girl is on FI-YAAAAAAAAAAAA

Reasons I want to be a MILF

  1. Something about engaging in my marriage and being a piece for him or some shit like that.
  2. Something about being healthy to live long for my child, so I can keep up or some nonsense.
  3. School girl crush syndrome …

Yea… that’s pretty much it. Mostly the school girl crush thing… can’t lie.

Background:

Let’s call them Vinny & Smellson… I never did, but let’s pretend those are their names. Here’s the thing. If my wonderful and blissfully ignorant husband drops dead there are two people I would try to go after, TWO… that’s it. Not interested in meeting someone new, looking forward to the future blah blah blah. Nope, I want to pick up where I left off with two people I never dated in the first place.

I’m lame. Easy to see that, right? But with Vinny I get fucking butterflies and giddy beyond belief, to the point that I can’t even think straight. He made a reference one time to a movie that I could quote every line from start to finish, but guess what, he made the reference and I blanked. Think deer in the headlights blanked. Then for the next three weeks I just played that moment back thinking HOW DID YOU MESS THAT UP!!?!?! Gah… whatever, that happens every time I see him, granted last time was like 4 years ago but still… He’s that guy that I’ll never have but damn the man do I think about him like a LOT.

When it comes to Smellson, it’s a connection. It’s there, I see it, and not sure he ever saw it. Pretty sure he stopped talking to me because I started dating the husband when we were “hanging out more”. He made a comment once of “being respectful to a relationship”, I should’ve snapped back that it’s called DATING, not a relationship just yet. But yea. I miss him. I would’ve married him in a heartbeat but he never even had the balls to date me. He could ask me to move with him and “adventure in the Midwest” but not to fucking date me… Meh, that probably would’ve come if we did move… but I started dating other people and he decided to stay in CA so that never happened… and then look what happens, I end up in the fucking Midwest anyways… kill me now please. What’s funny is he was really getting into fitness when I was leaving, I think I’d be a MILF by now had we gotten together. Damnit!

Now back to the present:

A week or so ago I saw Vinny post something to social media about doing the Kessel Challenge, and laughed because who doesn’t love a star wars reference…. And then I thought… I wonder if that has to do with the runDisney stuff… meh… think nothing of it. Then I see him posting at dive bars in Orlando… what the what? Are you doing a half at Disneyworld right fucking now… omg…. Quick TO THE INTERNET! Sure as shit, if he runs a half/full at Disneyland (where we’re from so that’s feasible) and then the star wars half/full at Disneyworld (where Robin & I shall be) he’ll complete the challenge.

I stay silent on social media while doing the stiffest happy dance for the CHANCE to run into him in Orlando… the fucking CHANCE makes me giddy. How lame is that!?

So immediately I go from 0-90. I was just scrolling through Instagram before bed, but now, no no no… no sleep for me. Its meal planning and workout prep. I ordered cooling towels from amazon (smile.amazon of course) and then some healthy “run” snacks. I have my meals planned out for this week, including lunches. I have my workouts and runs scheduled and ready to go. I started three “challenges” on fitbit with some friends to make sure I’m at least hitting my 10k steps on my cross training days. I went shopping and spent an hour or so chopping, slicing, cooking and packing to make sure my fridge is littered with healthy-ish options for snacking and eating (which is hard because baby don’t like soup so I have to cook separate meals for him).

WHY the sudden boost in motivation… reason #3. The chance to see someone who makes me smile just by proximity. We hug, that’s how we greet. I’m a hugger that is just how I am. To clarify, I would never cheat, this is just so that I can know that I’ll feel good while possibly being around someone that makes me feel like a moron.

I want to know that if I see him at say, mile marker 10, that I will still be: breathing, upright, and not a wobbly fat mess.

Goal SET! I’m ready for this shiz!

Ella

Screw the Anger (Away)

As a relatively new mom, I’ve struggled with postpartum rage.  If I’m quite honest, it’s been a little lot disturbing to me how fast I can go from docile to raging beast mode (I clocked it…it’s like 2.13 seconds).  I’m sure it’s a combination of hormones, adjusting to parenthood, stress of current job/life situation.  It’s really been a perfect storm of sorts these days.  Most of this rage has been directed at my husband….maybe because he’s front and center in my life?  I dunno.  I’ve been struggling with a way to deal with it, but believe I may have finally found a solution.  Finally.  And I’m happy to report it’s a drug-free solution – one that is all natural!

My solution (queue the drum roll!):  screw the anger away.  Literally.  Banging my husband and having a big (or small) O helps immensely.  I was so excited to share this new revelation with him the other night.

Me:  Do you know how to make me less angry?  Screw me regularly.  Like pound me hard kind of sex.

Husband stares at me, blinking rapidly.

Me:  I’m being TOTALLY serious!  How can anyone be angry after a session like that?!?  

Husband laughs.

It’s a win-win right?  It will help me and our relationship at the same time!  It will bring us closer, and get back to some normalcy after the long road of pregnancy and caring for a newborn.

We put it into practice earlier this week and got it on 3 nights in a row!  And let me tell you, it’s certainly helped.  I’ve noticed that I’m much less angrier, nor do I get upset if the husband leaves his shit laying around.  For those of you who do it more regularly, that is like half the times we’ve done it since Vivi was born…10 months ago.  So 3 nights in a row is quite a feat for us these days!

I’m happy to report that one of those sessions left me with a bruise on the side of my ribs.  Kind of a warrior badge, if you will.  I will certainly take one for the team in order to help tame the angry beast within!