I wanna grow old with you September 28, 2007
So, M and I have been struck down by some sort of mild form of the plague. Nothing that prevents us from going about our everyday lives, but just a smidgen of plague that makes going about our daily lives just a little more challenging because we’re coughing, sneezing, and sniffling our way through. Usually, I combat illness like this with rest. Lots and lots of rest.
Sarah’s been waking us up every. two. hours. We got better sleep when she was a newborn, because we co-slept. But now, Little Miss Dude I Need My Space isn’t content to sleep and snuggle Mama and just get plugged onto a breast whenever she whimpers. So that means we get up when she cries, and then at some point I poke M in the back and say, “Take her back to the crib.” and because he loves me: he gets up and does what I say.
At this point, a good night’s sleep would be as satisfying as a good BLT–and that means lots of bacon and mayo, and hold the T (I don’t like tomatoes. I usually order things and “hold the tomato” but I feel weird ordering a BLT and having them hold the T part…so I always get them and then pick them off…). Tonight? Sarah got rice cereal, a nice bath with relaxing baby aromatherapy, nursed on both breasts, and a dose of baby Tylenol. I have done everything I can to make sure my tiny girl sleeps tonight. And how am I using the time? Sleeping? Nope. I’m talking with you.
However, it was my night to do dinner. Since the kitchen was full of dirty dishes we’ve felt too blah to take care of, I went to the store and got us TV dinners. You can just hand me the Mother of the Year tiara right now. It wouldn’t have been bad, except I ran into a really chatty, super-mom who used to be a neighbor. The sort of woman who would drag herself from her deathbed to make her family a healthy, balanced meal. The sort of woman you’d like to hate, but you can’t, because she’s just too damn nice. But today? I felt just sick enough to sort of dislike her for catching me with TV dinners and diet root beer in my cart.
On an entirely unrelated note, tomorrow is my 9th Anniversary of being M’s girl. I can’t believe it. Nine years. In many ways, it seems like much longer than that (in a good way) and in others it seems like it can hardly have already been that long ago that we started dating.
At the wedding last weekend, we (the wedding party) were all supposed to stand around the dancefloor and oooh and aaah and get all teary and schmooped out while the bride and her dad danced. This was not hard to do. The bride is a sister of my heart, and her dad…well, if she’s a sister of my heart that would probably make her dad a dad of my heart. I love him. He picked out the song “I Held Her First” (I think that’s the title…and if anybody knows for sure, and knows the artist, please let me know! Thanks!) and as they danced he sang to her. TOTAL schmoop moment, right? And then I looked over at M, who had Sarah strapped to him in a sling, and a sleepy Nea sitting on his knee and slumped against his chest and I just totally welled. Then later? All four of us danced to “Time of My Life” from Dirty Dancing, and that very nearly sent me over the edge into the Grand Canyon of Schmoop.
We’ve just been given this thing. This incredibly precious, incredibly rare thing. This thing that feels as fragile as crystal and as durable as steel all at the same time. I look at this man, who is a little rounder than he was when we first started dating (good bye 30’s, hello 34’s), a lot more bald, and who has had to use every ounce of his considerable patience on a near daily basis simply because I (also more round–good-bye 6, hello 12–and who’s assets have decided to move south on a permanent basis) am a part of his life, I look at him and I’m amazed at the gifts we’ve been given in one another. He is my best friend, and has been for nearly a decade now. He is closer to me than my own skin. He is the one I want to run to when I’m scared or lonely or frustrated. His is the first face I look for when I want to celebrate.
At our own wedding reception, we danced to Adam Sandler’s “I Wanna Grow Old With You”. It was the first song we ever danced to–it was playing on my stereo, one night when he picked me up to go out, and he just scooped me into his arms and we danced. It’s still the song that I think of as “ours”.
Shut the door, Babe. I love you.
I wanna make you smile whenever you’re sad
Carry you around when your arthritis is bad
Oh all I wanna do is grow old with you.
I’ll get you medicine when your tummy aches.
Build you a fire if the furnace breaks.
Oh, it could be so nice, growing old with you.
I’ll miss you. Kiss you.
Give you my coat when you are cold.
Need you. Feed you.
Even let you hold the remote control.
So let me do the dishes in our kitchen sink
Put you to bed when you’ve had too much to drink.
Oh I could be the man who grows old with you.
I wanna grow old with you…
Random acts of…I dunno. Something. September 27, 2007
We went to one of my dearest friends wedding last weekend. Nea was the flowergirl. She rocked. I lost my bridesmaidenhead (always the bride, never the bridesmaid) with two of the most fabulous women I’ve ever had the pleasure of hanging out with (it was actually too bad Jen had to get married…we were well on our way to the sort of Girls Weekend that become legendary). At the reception, the wedding party got to drink free (whoo-hoo!!!) so this little pumpkin had a little too much of the vino, but all in all: it was a FANTASTIC weekend, and one that we won’t soon forget.
Today, I gave in to shoe temptation, and bought these:
I had a pair of black pumps. They are seven years old. I bought them on sale at PayLess. They are in OK shape, and so for that reason alone, when these first caught my eye in the shoestore window, I kept on walking. But after a few weeks of walking, I thought, “Screw it. I’ve been wearing those PayLess clearance shoes for seven freaking years. I deserve cute new black pumps.”
So. You know. I got them. M gets a new computer. I figure I can get new shoes–fair is fair, after all.
I’ve also been interviewed by the intrepid and intriguing Mojavi, of Simple Things. She and I both lived in Kansas. Well. She still does. And words can’t say how sorry I am about that, not being a fan of Kansas and all. But if she’s happy, I’m happy for her. She’s one of those people that I met through my blog, and while we’ve never met in person: if we got to, I think we’d have a seriously good time. 🙂
1 How old were you when you decided to become a pastor and how did your family react– if at all?
Ummm…let’s see. I think I was 22 when I stopped running away from God and decided to pursue going to seminary. I’d been feeling the not-so-gentle prodding in that direction for several months, and just couldn’t run away any more. My family’s reaction was mixed. I think my mom cried, and said, “Well, that’s what you want to be today.” and she spent a lot of time telling me, “Maybe you’re not meant to be a pastor. Maybe you’re just supposed to go to seminary to meet your husband, and then you can just be a pastor’s wife.” Turns out? We were both right. 🙂 My Dad was fine with it, as long as I was fine with it. He just wants me to be happy. My brothers were slightly weirded out by it, but at that point: they were slightly weirded out by almost anything I did, so it was to be expected.
2. Now that you have two girls do you feel torn between them at all? Absolutely not. They are both so different–and their ages are far enough apart that their needs are different as well. We’ve also perfected the “Girl Snuggle” where all the girls in the family snuggle together and look cute so Daddy knows just how damn lucky he is to have all of us. 🙂 Oddly, the place I feel torn is between my need for “me time” and M’s need for “us time”.
3. What is your best childhood memory? I have no idea. I’ve got a lot, so it’s hard to narrow down a favorite. Small town 4th of July parades…going to a lake cabin in the summer and being allowed to read as much as I wanted…playing Fisher Price Little People with my younger brother…playing Barbies with my little neighborhood girl-gang…lots of different stuff.
4. How long have you been married and how did you meet? M and I met 9 years ago on the 29th of September. Well, actually: we met earlier than that. But our first date was the 29th. We went to the Como Park Zoo, held hands, and watched the organgutans have oral sex. I’m not sure what our second date was, but it’s sort of hard to top fuzzy orange oral sex, you know? 🙂 We will be married 8 years in December. We met at seminary–we were part of a gang that sort of hung out together. The first time I remember meeting him, I walked into a room, and he lit up, “Beege!” and I thought, “Who is that?” went over and sat next to him, and we’ve pretty much been sitting together, talking, laughing, and watching monkeys have oral sex ever since. I knew within two weeks of dating that I’d marry him. He took a bit longer to figure that out.
5. What is worst trait as a wife? I’m not sure if this is MY worst trait as a wife, or just what is the worst trait in a wife in general. My worst trait is that I tend to be rather selfish…I know M will give me whatever I want, and I’ve been known to take advantage of that. I let him spoil me shamelessly. The worst trait in a wife? Dishonesty and disloyalty.
Want me to interview you? Leave me a comment letting me know.
Now I have to run. Sarah’s fussing, Nea’s crying, and M is slowly going mad…:)
The Wedding at Cana: A Bathtub Play in One Act September 20, 2007
Cast of Characters
Setting: The Bathroom
Linnea (patting bubbles into a beard on her face): I’m going to be Jesus!
Linnea: I’m Jesus, and that means I’m thirsty! Oh! Look! Someone has poured me a nice, dark beer! (fills the hair rinsing cup with water and bubbles from her bubble bath) Look at all the nice foamy bubbles!
Linnea: It’s time for me to do a miracle! And my miracle is that I will turn this beer into wine! I just put in my hand (dips hand into hair rinsing cup) and wha-pow! It’s wine! It’s a miracle! An ordinary miracle! And that’s what I do, because I’m Jesus!
As a pastor, one sort of wonders if that’s really the way it went, you know? I mean, as a Lutheran, I’ve always taken a deep delight that Christ’s first miracle wasn’t a healing, it wasn’t raising the dead, it was keeping the party going. And I have to confess: I get a deep surge of delight at the mental image of the Son of God making the “wha-pow!” sound. I sort of envision it accompanied by a fist pump.
But maybe that’s just me.
So, I decided I wanted to be like one of the blogging cool kids, and have a flickr badge on my blog. No problem, right? Right.
Flickr’s instructions for how to get a badge on a blog are different than how WordPress says to get a Flickr badge on a blog. So no problem, right? Since it’s a WordPress blog, follow the instructions WordPress gives, and you’ll soon be the proud possessor of a cute little badge of your cute little children smiling at you from the cute little margins of your cute little blog.
No matter what I tried–Wordpress instructions, Flickr instructions, shit I just made up on my own–NOTHING worked. The best I could do was get OTHER PEOPLE’S Flickr pictures in my sidebar. Not MY PICTURES. So I thought, “Screw it. You’ve got a Flickr page, you can just remote host the pics you want on your blog. Just take the Flickr thing out of the sidebar though, otherwise you’ll just get pissed off every time you see somebody else’s cute kid on your blog. Self, this will be no problem.”
I can’t get the freaking Flickr widgit to go away. It seems I’m permanently stuck with the random Flickrs of random people on my blog. So not what I wanted.
But on the plus side: they all seem to be piratical in nature. So that’s some small scrap of silver lining. Arrrrrrrr.
Oh, the injustice! September 19, 2007
My small girl’s reaction to being told that she could not, under any circumstances, eat a bean and cheese burrito in her flowergirl dress. I’m like the most uncool mom ever, I’m sure. 🙂
A couple of years ago, I had a big blow-up with some friends. Some of you may remember it. It got public and it got ugly. I was in a situation where I was having problems with 2 or 3 people in a group, but the only way to really address their negativity was to just excuse myself from the group entirely. I was sorry to have to do it. I REALLY didn’t do it very well. It’s been a huge regret in my life the last three years or so–how I was just not able to handle that in a way that was kinder to friends that I loved. I hear through the grapevine that some of those friends now understand why I left and feel bad about how they didn’t speak up for me. They don’t have to feel badly–they feel badly they didn’t speak up, and I feel badly that I just dumped them (and dumped ON them, while I was at it). I feel weird about just contacting them, when only one of them has contacted me personally, so I’m hoping if they read this: Silly rabbits! I love you guys! Let’s try again, only this time we’ll all try not to be boneheads. It’s a good rule of thumb for friendships on the mend: do over! And don’t be boneheads, OK? OK.
I think that’s going to be my motto for awhile: Beege: Trying not to be a bonehead since 2007. We’ll see how it works.
My MIL continues to piss the ever living hell out of me. This woman….!!!! So we sat down with a calendar, figured stuff out, decided that yes: even though it would make things more complicated for us, she should be able to come and visit her granddaughters and so she could come up and visit. M called her last night to tell her, and she’s not interested in coming. Instead, she’d like to come to my parent’s house and visit the girls between Thanksgiving and Christmas. The thing that pisses me off about this? The fact that she’d never even once made a peep about coming to see the girls until we called and told her we were moving. I want to know why it’s suddenly so freaking important for her to get to them, when up until last Thursday: she didn’t seem too concerned about seeing them.
And I’m so beyond tired of her acting like this is all my thing. It’s not. It never has been. In fact, I’ve tried everything I can to 1) either stay here or 2) get to Texas or 3) go somewhere else. It’s not that I’m sorry to be moving in with Mom and Dad. I’m not. I adore them, they’re some of my best friends, and I think that as strange as this arrangement will be: it’s going to be a good one. But I didn’t think that M would want to live close to my parents. Turns out I was wrong. He does. He’s thrilled and excited about this move. Can’t wait to settle in with his in-laws. But MIL doesn’t seem to get that. And it absolutely infuriates me that she thinks I could ever, ever force a decision on M that he wasn’t 100% on board with. Like I would just disrespect his opinion or his needs or his wants and force him to do what I want. He’s more important to me than anyone in the world–even my children–and if he had ever, at any point said, “I don’t think this is a good idea” or “I don’t really want to do this” then the plan would have been off. It just would have. And it really pisses me off that my MIL apparently thinks so little of me that she can just accept the fact that I would to this to her little boy.
The fact of the matter is she can’t even comprehend the fact that M doesn’t want to live any closer to her. He doesn’t. She has an incredibly lopsided view of their relationship. For YEARS after M and I got married, she’d tell me that no one knew M as well as she did, whereas I am of the opinion (an opinion that M shares) that I knew him better than anyone the first time I laid eyes on him. So that makes it weird. It’s REALLY hard on her to be so far apart from him, and it’s hard on us because it’s not hard for either one of us to be far apart from her.
I wish it could be better. M thinks if she’d just go for counseling, it would be better. I’m thinking, “She’s 70. I’m not sure counseling is going to help.”
I told M she couldn’t come up between Thanksgiving and Christmas. If both Dad and I are working retail: we’re going to be working long, hard, crazy hours. The girls will be settling in to a new routine, new home, having Grandma and Grandpa around all the time. It’s not a good time to have Meme come waltzing up from Texas. It makes me sad that she won’t come up now, as much as it would complicate matters for us, because I can’t think of when on earth she’ll get to see the girls. If the church comes through, the earliest we’d be able to get to Texas is after Easter. We’ve thought about inviting them up for Sarah’s first birthday, but then they wouldn’t have seen Sarah since she was six weeks old…that’s a long time to not see your grandchild, and I don’t want to do that to her (even though she DOES drive me crazy).
Blegh. It’s a mess.
On a happier note: sometime between when I left for work on Monday and when I came home, Boog learned to laugh. She’s got this great, gurgling belly laugh that’s got a little bit of a rasp to it…kind of like how Joe Cocker sings. AND she had her first serving of rice cereal and bananas last night (*sniff*/yay!), AND she slept from 9PM to 5AM, woke up for a feed and went back down ’til 9AM. I’m going on more sleep than I’ve had in probably ten months. And there are times when sleep is WAY better than sex. I’m getting plenty of sex. What else are you going to do when you know you’re going to have to feed the baby in half an hour, so there’s really no point in trying to fall asleep? But sleeping? Oh, sleeping….now that’s something magic.
Wow. Neat! September 17, 2007
So my beloved boss called the store that’s in the mall of the town that we’re moving to (in a hole at the bottom of the sea). She spoke with the manager, the manager said, “Yeah! Have her call us!”
So I called them on Friday. Manager said, “Syd really spoke very highly of you. She thinks the world of you.” I said, “That is an entirely mutual state of affairs. She’s an amazing woman.” So then we started chatting. Turns out, this new boss has a F/T position on her management team open and she wants me to take it.
Full-time WITH benies.
Now a lot of phone calls need to happen. Another one between Syd and Boss #2, between Boss #2 and her DM, between Boss #2 and me, and probably me and the DM. But. She said the position has been vacant for a couple of months and she hasn’t been able to find anyone with the appropriate level of experience to fill it, and she’s REALLY happy that M and I decided to move so we could help her out. So it sounds like the job is mine, barring some freak act of God (and, let’s face it, God DOES specialize in the occasional freak act…). I’m excited! It wouldn’t be too radically different from what I’m doing now (which, I’ll admit, is getting sort of boring) but it would be health insurance for my family that we could hold on to until I got a church. Plus, if I’m working full-time, then it takes some of the pressure off M to find a job and he can take that time and study hard for his comps.
Everything is falling into place. Now I just need to find a place for our cats, and everything will be just perfect.