Monday, March 31, 2008

Too Cool For School

Sorry I disappeared.

The cats ate through the power cord to my computer, then my computer died, then Rusty didn't bring home his power cord, and the computer in the other room (yes, computer number 3) is not hooked up and even though I know how to hook up a desk top, I can't actually reach the computer or the plugs in that room because of all the homeless junk that has started to live in there. So I didn't have a computer for like, 2 WHOLE DAYS!

It felt so strange, not having the computer to occupy my time. I felt like a part of me was missing, like those people who say they feel naked without their watch. I felt naked without my computer. Admitting that feels simultaneously refreshing and embarassing, for lo, I am kind of a loser.

Shall I confess something else? Rusty and I own several SuperNintendos. Only one works and I'm not really sure why we have the other ones, but they're Rusty's so I just ignore it most of the time. Anyway. We have a (several) SuperNintendo and my favorite game in the whole world is Super Mario Brothers. While it is my favorite game, I am terrible at it. I start to panic and jump jump jump jump even when I shouldn't jump and then I get killed by the stupid flying turtle things.

We recently pulled the SuperNintendo out of the drawer and hooked it up, and since that day I have spent many hours sitting on my exercise ball, bouncing up and down in beat with the music, screaming at the flying turtles and making Mario jump up and down like he has springs for legs.

You people only wish you were as cool as me.

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

Let The Crazy Begin

Having just watched the last half hour of The Hills in which one very tan and blonde girl freaked out about burning her ball dress and then rode around Paris on the back of a Vespa, while another very tan and blonde girl stressed about whether she wanted to be a fashion designer, I began to wonder what kind of show would turn out if a network thought it would be a good idea to film my life.

We shall call it Sadie-Tastic.

I like to imagine that Sadie-Tastic would be a hit, sucking millions of viewers a week. Viewers who plan their entire week around Sadie-Tastic, forgoing social activities, homework, chores and even bathroom breaks in order to tune in. Viewers who spend every day that I am not on TV pondering what I will do on the next episode.

I like to imagine that it would be a glamorous show, artfully capturing the bliss and drama of my charmed (but not too charmed) life. It would chronicle my adventures with my uber-fancy job, that I drive to every day in my shiny new car. It would highlight my humor and wit, and make a point to always show how beautiful my hair is. It would capture my superb skills in cooking, home decorating, tattoo artistry, and top model making.

However, I know this would not be the case. If I was to have a reality show about my life, if my daily activities were to become televised, it would likely involve me wrangling several small children and two psychotic cats and one husband with facial hair.

I am already imagining the episode titles. "Bodily Fluids" could probably be a series in itself. "Mismatched and Mom Doesn't Care" could be another one. "Fight Amongst Yourselves, I'm Not a Referee", one of my personal favorites. "Who Ate Which Bug", "The Many Faces of Macaroni", "Why the Laundry Doesn't Get Done" and "Adventures in Tying Hundreds of Small Shoes" potential others.

Think, Jon and Kate Plus 8, with 100 times less organization and 29470 times more mess.

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

Security Piling Up on the Counters

I am listening to a little song by Pedro the Lion, and I think Baby likes it. I looked down and my stomach was bouncing in time to the song. If this kid has rhythm I don't know where it came from. Certainly not from me.

Yesterday I was in my Therapeutic Interviewing class listening to the animated and bow-tie wearing Dr Cater begin a discussion about factors that can cause trouble in marriages. He got to the part about lacking security and I was thinking, all smug-like "Well, Rusty and I may lack some things, but security is definitely not one of them." Then he began explaining what he meant by lack of security, and he described Rusty and me so well that it was all I could do to keep from bursting out in raucous laughter, rolling on the floor with the hilarity of it all. For indeed, according to Dr Cater we do lack a little something in the security area.

You see, Rusty and I have this problem with follow-through-ness. Or maybe getting-started-ness. Or doing-things-ness. As a couple we hate to clean. We hate chores. We hate the day-to-day things that simply have to be done, no matter how boring they are. We like our house to be clean, we like the yard to be nice, we like the bills to be paid and the cars to be running, but we don't like to do those things. We would rather think about doing them, imagine doing them, write them down on our pretend to-do list, whine about them not getting done, than actually do them. And this can sometimes be a problem.

To date, we have only paid one bill late. We have (I have) only forgotten to feed the cats 876780353 times. We have worn dirty underwear probably more times than I should share. We have dirtied every single dish in the house approximately twice a month. We have let all the dirty dishes sit out on the counter while we refuse to put away the clean ones in the dishwasher approximately 3 times a month. We have thrown things we don't know what to do with in the computer room thus rendering the computer room entirely impassable, about every day for the last 2 months.

I really think alot of the problem lies in me, Rusty is far more self-disciplined that I. You see, I still won't admit that we are slightly slobbish. I sometimes refuse to clean the house when people are coming over because I feel like we should just let them see how we really live. We don't want to be deceitful do we? I often "forget" to do things that Rusty asks me to do, particularly if doing those things would require me to pull out the cleaning supplies.

So I suppose we do have a problem with security as we really don't want to do things that are 'unromantic'. In fact, if we could have it our way, I think Rusty would agree that we would forfeit a clean house, money to pay the bills, working cars, and a nice yard if we could sit around all day with chocolate covered strawberries and champagne, making googly eyes and blowing kisses to one another.

Or maybe, we are just very lazy.

Wednesday, March 19, 2008


I just spent waaaay too long publishing a post that I have been working on for like three days.
Just so you know, the post says it published on Monday. So you'll have to scroll down to read it. And (AND!) the formatting is all goofed up and even when I change it, it does not change when I publish it.
So, I give up. Scroll down. Forgive the formatting errors. I think I am moving blogs to something more Sadie-friendly.

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

A Hard Day's Bounce

I just bought myself one of those giant exercise balls.
This could be very interesting.

Monday, March 17, 2008

With An Added Bonus At the End!

In honor of only having 4 weeks of pregnancy left (GAH! The madness!) I think it appropriate to let the masses know the state of the uterus. Much like the State of the Weight Address, this is the State of the Uterus Address.

First and foremost, Baby is now roughly the size of a crenshaw melon. "What the crap is a crenshaw melon?" you might ask. I asked the same thing.

That is a crenshaw melon. Crenshaw melons apparently weigh about 6 pounds and are about 18 inches in length, which is, about the size of Baby. Rusty and I have pretty much stopped referring to the baby as "The Baby" and mostly just say "Baby" now. I think we may go ahead and just name Baby, "Baby" to prevent any confusion after birth.

According to I am likely experiencing lightening and Braxton Hicks contractions. I say, heck to the yes I am.
We began our childbirth classes two weeks ago, and the teacherlady let us know that lightening was one of the symptoms we would likely encounter in late pregnancy. Being an avid reader and researcher of most things pregnancy related, I already knew that (annoying knowitall!) but despite knowing that and all the other symptoms of late pregnancy and imminent labor (or imminent doom, take your pick) I still didn't quite recognize it when it happened.

She said people would tell us that we looked different, they would probably squeal, "You've dropped! Gush gushy gush gush!" but in reality, the drop is only a few centimeters and is probably not that visible. I don't know what I think about that. All I know is, on Friday I felt different. Walking was even harder than it has been. I had to pee every five minutes instead of every twelve. I felt alot of pressure on my pelvis, and yet, I didn't even think of lightening. Rusty did though, he said I looked different. Then when Dr did a pelvic exam he confirmed it. Baby's head has definitely dropped.

When I got home from the appointment, I looked in the mirror and wouldn't you know it, I DO look different! Or maybe I am crazy and am making things up. Either way, I have experienced lightening, and while it's nice to breathe again I'm getting tired of all the peeing.

In another spectacular example of being dumb, for the past few weeks I thought that when my stomach got really hard, like as hard as a basketball, it was because the baby was moving in such a way that my muscles stretched out and got hard. Not until we started classes did I realize that I was actually having contractions. Totally normal and expected Braxton Hicks contractions, but contractions nonetheless. Crazy!

I think hearing Dr tell me that indeed my body is preparing for labor worked as a signal to my brain, a signal to go ahead and make me more uncomfortable. Before Friday I was mildly and sporadically uncomfortable. Now I am always mildly uncomfortable and sporadically in actual pain. My legs hurt, my butt hurts, my feet are swollen (no seriously. They are fat.), my groin and pelvis ache, my back aches and if I walk around too long my back yells and me for the next 4 hours. I waddle like a stinking duck. However, my belly button still does not stick out. It's flat and stretched, but it does not stick out.

Emotionally, I oscillate like a fan. One minute I'm dancing with impatience at how much longer I still have to wait, and the next I realize, "Holy moley, this baby could literally be here in a matter of weeks, or even (GASP!) days! I'm not ready! I don't have any diaper wipes! I don't have any preemie clothes! I don't have any baby wash or baby lotion! I only have 102 baby blankets and that is not the perfect number, the perfect number being 105! And what about the Dreft!!!!" So I freak out and think about packing the hospital bags, and then remember that I still need to go to Babies R Us and get another diaper bag, and until then there is no point in packing, so I am stuck in limbo.

But (and perhaps the most surprising part of all) when people ask me if I'm scared, I say no. And I mean it. Sure I tend to panic about the supply department in our house, but give me some chocolate and I'll forget about it faster than you can say 44 pounds. I know that we will survive without mattress pads or 105 baby blankets.

I have a love/hate relationship with the idea of labor. I'm not looking forward to it in a creepy "I love pain" kind of way, but I am looking forward to it. The classes have helped calm some fears and have certainly made me feel more prepared. I'm not crazy about the idea of spending hours and hours with a baby ripping up my insides and my delicate parts, but it's pretty incredible, the way my body works.

And parenthood? Mostly just excites the heck out of me. I get afraid sometimes and wonder what I'm getting myself into, what with the poop and the barf and the crying and the tantrums and all that. I worry that I will mess my kid up too. But alongside that worry, is the knowledge that we'll be fine. I'm looking forward to being a parent, and can you imagine the stories that you will get to read once this little devil is out in the real world and not cooped up somewhere between my bladder and my ribcage?

So, in short, I am puffy and I waddle. I freak out about blankets. I tend to flip between SUPERDUPER excited and sort of nervous. But mostly, I am just tired of waiting. And as an extra bonus, the camera has decided to work today, so I shall toss my dignity out the window and Reveal The Belly.

The Belly, Discreet and Covered

The Belly Uncensored!

The Faces of Horror as I See the Belly

The Face of Sadness as I See The Ever Expanding HipsButtThighs

Sunday, March 16, 2008

Daily Adventures

I remember once in preschool I told my sister a lie.

I had spent the day at school, a normal day filled with toys and singing and naps and probably apple juice. But when Audrey asked me what I done all day I must have been struck with how normal and mundane it all was, and I felt the need to add a little zest to the telling of my daily activities. Call it a prologue to my adult tendency to tell mundane stories about life (socks, lunch time, going to the doctor, taking a quiz, whathaveyou) as if they were stories of great and wild adventures.

So what began as a day filled with toys and singing and naps and probably apple juice ended up being a day of scaling mountains, falling off mountains, spraining my ankle and general upheaval of the preschool world. When Audrey asked how I was walking if I had sprained my ankle I replied "Well. It got better."

I was reminded of this yesterday when I was at work. I was supervising, so while most of the school age kids went to a treasure cave tour (no one brought back any gold for me) I stayed behind to answer phones, tend to preschool, and hang out with one sick kid and one kid who didn't get to go due to his behavior. He was understandably upset about missing the outing, and spent a long time telling me about being upset. But in the fashion of those who tend to elaborate and dramatize, what began as being angry about missing the outing, ended in child labor.

He told me some pretty fantastic tales, but my absolute favorite was this.
Kid: Well, do you want to know what else!?!
Me: What?
Kid: The staff made us clean all the rooms today!
Me: Well, today is Saturday and we have chores to do on Saturday.
Kid: Well, no. They made us clean everyday.
Me: You do have room chores everyday, but everyone has those chores. You have to clean your room.
Kid: Well. Every night they make us wake up at 4 in the morning and tell us to clean every room in the whole shelter, even all the offices, and they won't let us go to sleep until it's done.
Me: Really!?
Kid: Yeah. And do you want to know what else! Do you know why the paintings in the hallway are so nice and not scratched up? Because they make us repaint them every single night! That's why I have red paint all over my hands.
Me: Can I see your hands?
Kid: Well. I already washed them.
Me: Oh, I see.

While I had to talk to him about making up stories and how lying probably wasn't the best way to express the way he felt, I understand the desire to fabricate a life more interesting than reality. Sometimes, the cycle of daily living is so boring you feel like you could puke. And then you wonder, Why do I even do this, and so you simply refuse to take part in the cycle of daily living. You skip school. You don't shower. You eat weird things at weird times. You refuse to do the dishes. You spend the whole day, unbathed, eating marshmallows and watching marathon movies on Lifetime, which is, arguably even more pointless than the cycle of daily living.

We all have a current that runs through our bones and begs for adventure. Some of us make up stories about adventures, and some of us go out and have adventures. But maybe most of us need to learn how to see the adventures daily living.

Monday, March 10, 2008

State of the Weight Address

JBU thinks it's funny to watch pregnant women huff and puff their way up flights of stairs. Every single one of my five classes is on the second floor of the building. And conveniently my Christian life prof always lets us out late, so I have approximately 3.2 minutes to:
weave my way through a sea of people Who Just Can't Wait To Get Into Their Class!
walk downstairs quickly, but without tripping on my own feet and falling head over belly to the bottom
hike across campus usually through rough and muddy terrain
hustle through the construction zone with the sounds of doom and Spanish floating overhead
climb the stairs in the cathedral with the knowledge that I will not make it upstairs before Dr Cater closes the door and I will have to go into class while everyone stares at me as I pant and try to hide the fact that I am sweating like a pig in a polyester jumpsuit.

Last week I told Dr Cater that it seems like the stairs get harder every single time I go up them. I told him that even though the stairs made me all winded and red in the face, I couldn't bring myself to take elevator because everytime I got to the elevator and thought about taking it I would say to myself "You're going to have to do alot harder things than walking up a flight of stairs. You're going to have to give birth! Take the stupid stairs!!" The awkward silence in the classroom that followed me yelling at myself made me think that maybe that was too much information to share with a group of near to strangers.

However, the part about the stairs getting harder everytime I go up them? that part may be true. I am still in the process of gaining weight like there is no tomorrow, so technically I weigh more everyday, which means, I weigh more every time I go up the stairs. So really, the stairs are harder everytime I go up them.

I have approximately 8 pairs of underwear that fit. Even my pregnancy underwear are tight and uncomfortable. I have threatened at least 47 times to just go commando. Unfortunately, my underwear don't have emotions and don't care if I wear them, leave them in a ball or cut them up into tiny shreds and throw the pieces around like colorful confetti.

On Saturday Wendi said something about Chloe weighing 44 pounds. I thought about that for a minute and then announced that I had gained a Chloe.

I know, I know that I'm supposed to gain weight and it's good for the baby and it will go away. I know! And I am actually very thankful that I have had a very boring and uneventful pregnancy with no scares or problems. Last week at childbirth classes I wanted to put "Healthy as a Horse" on the form that asked whether there had been any problems with the pregnancy. I didn't put it, but I am grateful for my and the baby's health. But there is something disturbing about thinking that if I took all the weight I had gained and turned it into something, I could turn it into my 7 year old niece.

Monday, March 3, 2008

Delusions of Grandeur

Tonight I was taking a quiz in my ethics class. I didn't know it, but there was some kind of Foreign Foods party going on downstairs in the commons area. At the break I went down to get a drink from the cafe, and was assaulted by what looked like half of JBU milling around in Walker, plates of salsa balanced precariously in their hands just waiting to be knocked onto my perfectly white t-shirt. A room full of Uncomfortable if you will. Too many people! Too loud! Not enough room! The salsa! Gah!! I considered rigging up some kind of zip line from the stairwell to the cafe, but dropped the idea when I remembered the state of my belly (Too big!). So I got a drink at the much safer and quieter soda machine on the second floor.

Anyway, back to the quiz. I was there, in my desk minding my own business, when something brilliant happened. At the precise moment when I finished the down swoop of the letter 'B', a loud "YaaaaHurrahhWooo!" filtered up from the party downstairs. Then on the next question, just as I finished the curve of the letter 'C' a round of applause filtered up. This happened three more times before I thought "Hmmm, this is kind of awesome. Those people are down there applauding my brilliance and superb quiz taking skills!" It was then that I decided that I need to employ a group of people to do this all the time, applauding my brilliance for when I do certain tasks like "Feeding the Cats" "Washing the Dishes" "Making the Bed" "Taking a Shower" and "Cooking Dinner".

I feel I would be much more motivated to do these tasks if I had an entourage of applauders there to root me on. Rusty, go ahead and get on that.

Saturday, March 1, 2008


Unfortunately my brain is still firmly set in "dead" mode so I have nothing for you


Zippy the Pinhead and Monty Python!

First, go here . Do yourself a favor and first read Understanding Zippy, then do a strip search (ha!) for 'donuts'. Trust me, you'll leave with a good laugh and a hankering for some donuts.


You are welcome.