Happy Anniversary! Blogoversary that is...

Yup today marks one year!!! I can't beleive I've been writing all this meaningless shit for this long hahahaha

In the last year, my baby girl has gone from 2... to 3...
I turned 30... gasp
I've lost my job.
Subsuquently, we're losing our house.
Rowan started preschool
I've learned that corporate America was stressing me out way the fuck more than I thought.
We went to Disney.
I've learned that home is where the heart is.
I've found Jesus.
I've learned to relax.
I picked up new hobbies.
I did not lose weight.
Rowan gave up her nuk
She nighttime potty trained
I've found it fun and amuzing to document my sex life on here.... and so have you.

Over all, its been a great year! (really it has, despite the major issues I had)

Here are a few highlights from the year :) just for shins and giggles.

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Here's to another year of meaningless bullshit from me!

What's in a name?

As everyone knows, my daughter's name is Rowan. Its an unusual name, and NO I did not take it from Brooke Shields!

I had this name picked out for my future child ever since the early 00's. I got it from the Anne Rice Mayfair Witch series. The lead character in this book, you guessed it, is Rowan Mayfair.

I fell in the love with the name as soon as I finished the first book, and I tucked it away in my pocket for future use.

Once I found out I was pregnant, I took it out of my old tattered pocket and presented it to the hubs, whom thankfully was on board with it. (because if he hadn't have been, he'd have gotten the "once you push a watermelon out of the tip of your penis, then you can have an opinion" speech).

20 weeks later, at our ultrasound, as soon as the "its a girl" dropped from the Ultrasound techs mouth, Rowan existed. And we called her Rowan for the next 20 weeks. My sister in law joked at the hospital the day after Rowan's birth, about how she felt as though Rowan had been around for so long because she'd had her name for ages. We referred to her as Rowan.. "when Rowan gets here".... "lets paint Rowan's room this weekend", "Do you think we should buy this book for Rowan?"


And its true... Rowan was Rowan months before she made her way into this world.

Rowan is an Irish/Gaelic name. I did a lot of research about it after we had settled on it. It has quite a few meanings. The funniest being "little red haired one". Once Rowan was born and we could see her flaming red hair, we both sort of giggled at how appropriate our selection was.

It also means protected from evil. The Rowan tree native in the Ireland/England area is a species of what we call the ash tree here. In the times of witch paranoia people would hang a branch of the Rowan tree above their doorways in order to protect their households from the "evil" of a witch.

I found that bit-o-information pretty funny seeing as Anne Rice named the lead witch in her story Rowan. And I half wonder if she did the same research and chose that name on purpose.... to add a bit of irony to her story.

The first book of the Mayfair Witch series is The Witching Hour. I don't want to spoil the book for anyone, but in this story, there is a spirit that attaches to Rowan and haunts her if you will. This spirit's name is Lasher.

My mother is currently reading the book. She was interested in where I got Rowan's name and thought she'd read the series to see why I chose it.

We got into a discussion the other day about the books which prompted me to look them up online. Like I mentioned its been many years since I've read them and I was a bit shaky on parts of the story.

It was in doing this research that I had a pretty funny revelation.

My daughters middle name is Aislan (pronounced Ash-lan). It's also Gaelic and means dream, vision, and inspiration. Hubs and I had both agreed we wanted another Irish name for Rowan in keeping with our ancestry and once I ran across this one, it just clicked. I asked hubs and he agreed.... so Rowan became Rowan Aislan.

Now we must come back to my revelation, and in doing so, back to the Mayfair Witch series. As I noted, the spirit that follows and torments Rowan Mayfair is Lasher. In researching the stories while talking to my mother, I came upon a play by play of the books... in the story, Lasher is a spirit that was once living. His name while alive was Ashlar. It wasn't until he'd died that his name was distorted by the living that could not understand him ,into the name Lasher.

Ashlar.... Aislan.... Hmmmmmmmmmmm

Ok... so I know the subconscious is a very very powerful thing... and I know without a doubt that Rowan's middle name clicked with me because I'd heard the names Rowan and Ashlar together so many times that it probably just sounded right to me.

Reminds me of a kid I grew up with who's name was Matt Bates... MattBates... masturbates.... I know his mom didn't' mean to do that, but I bet she thought the names went well together because of that word... lol and the poor boy then ended up having the nick name masturbates his entire childhood...

And so, three years after having my little Rowan Aislan, I came to realize that not only her first name comes from that book, but alas, so does her middle name. And it was just such an odd and flabbergasting moment to realize that. So long after the fact... haha

The Circle of Life

This weekend we headed up to my parents house early Friday morning. My hubs worked on some electrical in our new bathroom while Rowan and I played outside. My parent's have a nice big yard.... so we Rowan sloshed around in the snow pretending she was "fishing" with a stick.

Then we walked up and down the road... even stopping at the tiny town library to play on the front steps.

Rowan loved it.... and in her I saw the little girl I used to be that played on the same road.. in the same places..... and it gave me the chills.

I am one of those people

....who has panic attacks in the dentist office. I get in the chair, start discussing the procedure and my heart accelerates, my pores spew forth sweat beads and my breathing increases.

Its horrifying... and it means I've gone a year with part of the dentin exposed in my tooth from a worn out filling, simply because I've been too terrified to return.

It wasn't always so... I used to be brave.

I've had my belly button pierced, my tongue pierced, many tattoos, heck I've endured 4 days of labor! Why am I afraid of the stinking dentist?

It's not the drill.. I can handle the drill.. once the drill comes out, you don't feel pain.. its just numb.


It's the DAMN NEEDLE in my mouth that kills me.

My current dentist is a nice fella.. in fact he spent half the visit surfing facebook with me while we waited for my mouth to numb up.

But he novocains differently than any one I've ever been too. He doesn't put the needle in the side of my cheek.. which all though it sucks, doesn't kill. No, he does it in the corner of my jaw... If you were to open your mouth wide, it would be in the area inside your mouth where you can feel the joint behind your teeth.. where your mouth hinges.

There is some sort of odd flexy stiff material under the mouth tissue.... and he jams the needle right into it.... the thought of it makes me shutter and want to vomit.

Worse yet, and this is something I learned today, red heads don't react to anesthesia the same as everyone else. It takes more for us. (consequently, we bleed more too, apparently we're just freaks.)

So he numbed me... but it wasn't enough. He did a cold test on the tooth and I felt it, so he numbed me twice more!!! I got three times the amount of Novocaine as the average person would receive. Now the joint of my jaw is aching so bad I couldn't open it wide enough to take a bite off of a banana today, I had to slice the banana and ease the slices in...WTF!!!!

It doesn't help, and please excuse my whining, that I'm ever so slightly allergic to shots.. I know, sounds like I'm making that up to get out of the pain. But I'm not. There is some sort of liquid they mix shots with in order to inject them, and I'm allergic to it. Not horribly, but enough to make the injection sites very very sore and puffy..so yeah, the jaw... not a happy place right now.... pain people... pain!!!

To add to the distress, my face, half my mouth, most of my tongue, and even parts of my head under my hair line were numb, for 6 freaking hours!!!! And when your tongue has no sensation, this means you can't eat. Or I could have, but I risked accidentally consuming bits and pieces of my cheek and tongue.. a risk not worth taking if you ask me.

So I was starving all day, yet couldn't eat a thing...dear Lord!

At 5 I finally cooked some supper, I consumed 2 hamburgers (small ones) and a plate of baked fries.. baked beans and a half hand full of chocolate teddy grahams.

I was ravenous.

Anyhow, all this complaining has brought me to the main purpose of this post. The talk of anesthesia got me thinking about the time I had my wisdom teeth out, which is quite the funny story.

I was young.. mid 20's... and I'd been dating Boo (Barney) for about 4 or 5 months.

We had passed the "fart in front of each other" step in our relationship (yes I do beleive that is an actual step.)

The day before the big "surgery" we ate a ton of food because I knew I'd be living off of cream of wheat and ice cream for a while afterwards.

Well, let me tell you, I don't know what out of the enormous amounts of crap I ate that did it, but I had a MEAN case of gas the day of the surgery.

The type of gas that's hot when it comes out, smells sour and horrid, and leaves a little smirk on your face while you wait for the stentch to hit your significant other in the nostrils like a sledge hammer.

Oh yes.. it was BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaadddddddddddddd

And I could not stop it! No matter how much came out, another was right behind it knocking on the door.

In fact, while in the waiting room at the dentist, I had to go to the ladies room no less than 10 times to expel said gas... I pity whomeever used that rest room after me.

And then I had to go in for the procedure.

I know, with all my heart and soul, that I expelled large amounts of noxious smelly gas while under sedation, and that poor assistant and dentist had to stay in that room with me to extract my wisdom teeth.

I think of those poor people...and what I put them through.

There are two possible outcomes.

1... they could have quietly endured, and then promplty stepped outside for some fresh air once I was removed to the recovery room.

2.... they still talk about me at dinner parties while laughing with thier friends.

I'm gonna with number 2.... I've never been back to that dentist.

Afterwards, Barney collected me and my half "out of it" self from the recovery room and brought me home.. he cared for me for two days.. while I laid in bed... he gave me narcotic pain killers, fixed me bowls of slush, and rented me movies.

(consquently, Finding Nemo is hysterical while on percosets).

The one thing he wouldnt' do for me was change my gauze.. he almost threw up while I reluctantly pulled them out myself after 10 mintues of begging him for help with no luck.. he's a squeemish fella.

and that's my wisdom teeth story....

Where's the fabreeze?

After Sex Deep Thoughts 9

Whoa its been almost 2 weeks... apparently, as a couple, hubs and I have been slacking! haha

Actually he hurt is neck last week.. which rendered him immobile... needless to say, acrobatics weren't in his plans ;)

Anyhoodle, last night hubs fell asleep pretty quickly (DST is still messing with us) and I read my book.

We did have a fun little chat however, during our "after" snuggles.

St Patty's day is coming up. And our first date was on St. Patty's day (almost 6 years ago). We both talked about that day and what we were like before child, and before marriage.

It was kind of fun to remember our old selves. He was young and full of energy... he was still racing at that point.. he was still a bit broken from his divorce and he was eager to meet a new girl.

I was fresh off of losing 135 lbs and needless to say full of confidence. I felt pretty and happy about life. I was ready to move on from my ex-husband and meet new people.

We met in college as I know I've blogged before.... and our little romance was sickeningly cute to our fellow students.

When he and I first started talking, I wasn't quite sure he was into me. He was friendly and all, but I could sense his hesitation about my divorce not quite being final yet.

I worked at a restaurant on the UNH campus, and he also worked at UNH on the construction crew.

He mentioned how he liked eating at the place next door to me because there were a lot of cute girls. I invited him to lunch (on me) and made a joke about how he could scope them out while he was there. (the two restaurants were physically attached and open to one another. You could walk between them inside).

So he came in the next day, and got lunch while I joked with him about the hot blond over there that he could drool over.

I found out later, that he was coming in to drool over me... and had no interest in the blond what so ever. Apparently he was a red head kind of guy, and the sight of me all dirty and covered in flour while garbed in an apron was super sexy to him. I'll spare you the visions he had about me in that apron haha

It brought a little smile to my face last night as I remembered that.... and I snuggled up to him immersed in the memories of our young love.... and thankful for the older love we now share.


Our First Date

Birth Story - 3 Years late

I'm a slacker I know.

haha

Just kidding.

I was laying in bed last night, and I have wicked "baby on the brain" syndrome right now. Which is very unlike me. I haven't even decided yet if I want 2 kids. Actually I should correct that. I do want 2, I just don't want to deal with having an infant again. Rowan is almost 3. She's potty trained, sleeps through the night, and heck, she can even kind of get herself dressed now.

I have part of my freedom back.

And that is a very hard thing to give up.

But alas, I don't want Rowan to be a single child. And the thought of her being alone some day after Barney and I pass on (into heaven of course) makes me sad.

And so, I want Rowan to have a sibling.

Unfortunately, that means I must have a babe... a crying, screaming, pooping, no sleeping needy babe.

And that my friends, is a scary scary thing.

But as you all know, I am currently without work. And we plan a big move up north where I shall be able to stay home with Rowan for a few years. So... I guess right now is sort kind of the right time to spit out another babe.

I have no real excuses. And the older Rowan gets, the harder it will be for her and this new babe to be close to one another.

As it stands, right now they'd be almost 4 years apart. And that gap grows everyday.

I have a few goals first... my main one being to lose 40 lbs. I'll still be pretty hefty, but I'll be back to the weight I was when Rowan was born.. and I guess I'm ok with that.

Anyhoodle. By thinking of all this baby stuff, I started reminiscing about Rowan's birth.


Rowan was conceived sometime in July. By October, we had moved into our condo.. and a whole world of changes had come about. I'll never forget the day we moved... I was in the bathroom unpacking a few odds and ends whilst my hubs and family moved in the heavy boxes... (being pregnant rocks while your moving).

I felt Rowan move.. a tiny little flutter... ahhh... its real.


My pregnancy was relatively easy. No morning sickness, no major health issues other than the usual "can't poop" and one nasty bout of the flu during which I couldn't' stop pooping. So you see, it evened itself out.

Rowan was due April 17th, the Monday after Easter.

The weeks dragged by of course, like I'm sure they do for all first time parents. And then the Friday before my due date, things started to change.

I had a tightening twinge in my belly that morning. And these non painful tightening continued on until lunch time. I met up with a few friends for lunch that day at the OG (Olive Garden). There were a couple of us that were all pregnant together and we'd go to the OG for soup salad bread sticks and of course, large deserts.. or you know, just desert.

I was the farthest along in the group, my due date only days away. We were all chit chatting and I finally mentioned the fact that I thought I was having some mild contractions..

I believe Elissa nearly fainted, and I know Ryry almost pooped herself. The fact that I was having a baby soon... made them all realize that they too, indeed, would have a real live baby eventually.

We all laughed lunch joking about how I probably wouldn't make it to the next one we had... or maybe I would, but it would be with baby in tow.

Once I got back to work I started tracking my "contractions". They were every 10 minutes or so, but again, not painful yet.

My boss swung by my desk, saw my little hand written chart and asked what it was. As soon as I mentioned "possible contractions" she said, and I quote, "oh my God, get the hell out of here." She was a funny lady.

So I packed up, took a good look around my desk thinking I'd not return for the next couple of months.... and I was right.

That night the pseudo contractions stopped once I lay down. The next morning they picked back up again.. they still didn't' hurt, but they were getting stronger and more persistent. Again, once we headed up to bed, they stopped.

Easter Sunday, I woke up excited to spend the day with family. And like clock work, the contractions returned as soon as I got myself up and out of bed. However, today, they were different. Today they started hurting a bit.

Not hugely mind you. More like menstrual cramps. They were still coming about every 8-10 minutes or so. They lasted straight through Easter dinner at Barney's meme's house.... and all through the late afternoon.

By the time we got home and relaxed on the couch, they were coming about every 5 minutes consistently.

Poor Barney was pacing the floor.. he was eager to get to the hospital. But I knew I wasn't ready. Finally around 6 or so, I agreed to go with him. Simply so he'd shut up.

We got to the hospital and were put into a "waiting to be admitted" room. A nurse came in and asked me about my pain... ha! I told her I was a 7 on the pain scale.. oh how naive I was. She had a doctor come check me, and I was only 3 centimeters. But heck, that was pretty darn good and I was excited that I was actually dilating.

They had us walk around the corridors for an hour and then rechecked me... still 3. They gave me some pain meds so I could sleep, and sent us home.

By this time, the contractions were pretty painful, I attempted to go to bed without the meds but there was no way. I eventually got up and took them... and I slept restlessly.

Around 4am I woke up in a lot of pain and when I went pee I lost my mucus plug, it was disgusting.

We both showered and went downstairs to start timing the contractions again. They were still about 4-5 mins apart but were definitely far more painful. I had no doubts this time that I was in early labor. I had big hopes that I had made some progress over night.

Around 6 am Barney insisted we go back to the hospital. So we did.

They stuck me in the waiting room again, and had a doctor come check me. I was only 4 centimeters.

We were both bummed I hadn't made any progress, but the nurses had us stay. We walked around and around the hospital for a few hours. Got checked again around lunch time. Still 4 centimeters!

I was pretty frustrated at this point, as you can well imagine. I was in a lot of pain, but wasn't even dilated enough to be fully admitted.

We spent the rest of the day walking the corridors. Finally at around 6 or 7, they checked me again... and I was still 4 centimeters. The nurses were kind enough however to let me stay over night in the non admitted room. They gave me morphine and a sleeping pill so I could rest. It was blissful!

I woke up early the next morning... in a lot of pain again. The contractions were even stronger. They checked me and finally I had gotten to 5 centimeters and was admitted and allowed to stay.

So off to our fancy room we went. Barney had called my family in that night... they drove the 1 1/2 down to our condo and had spent the night there. My mom and sister showed up mid morning to spend the day with us.. they were going to be present for the birth. My poor Dad sat in the waiting room all day.. he was quite patient.

This is the part of the day that starts to get blurry for me. By early morning my contractions were getting pretty painful and I was definitely in active labor. Nothing was changing with my cervix though; I was stuck at 5 centimeters alllll day.

I had a midwife, whom I had seen many times at my OB office.. she was quite kind, but not as aggressive as a doctor would have been. (I later found out she pushed for 12 hours with her first born.. good Lord!)

I remember she broke my water sometimes in early afternoon. An hour later, she checked me again and nothing had changed. She asked me if I wanted to go home.

HAHAHAHA are you kidding? No I snapped.

I'm not sure when the decision was made, but I guess they decided to induce me. The contractions weren't doing anything on their own, and at this point I was getting frustrated and exhausted. At 4pm that afternoon, I was given the pit line... and in went the lovely and exhilarating pitosin.

It was hell fire in a bottle.

My contractions went from painful to unbearable in about 2 minutes. I can't even explain to you the pain I was in. And with pitosin, you don't get the normal breaks you would in un-induced labor. They're constant... The start, they peak, they wane, they start again.

Only because I was so delirious with the pain, did I not ask for an epidural. I wouldn't' have been able to control myself long enough to sit still to get an epidural anyhow. So I went through a pitosin induced labor without medications.

Although I lie.. I had stadol.. more to come on that in a bit.

The time that elapsed between receiving the pitosin, to the time I started pushing was only 3 1/2 short hours... 3 1/2 hours to dilate 5 centimeters more.

I remember when I started getting the urge to push. They called in my midwife to check me. I was only 9 1/2 centimeters. She manually pushed my cervix back over Rowan's head so that I could push without injuring myself. OH MY F'ing word did that hurt... and I wont' repeat what I said to the poor midwife.

The urge to push wasn't what I thought it would be either. I was in the middle of a contraction and pushed a bit to see what it felt like, and it actually alleviated the pain. So pushing for me was a coping mechanism more than anything else. It made it stop hurting. So I kept doing it.

Once my midwife had finished with my cervix she started getting all geared up in her splash proof outfit, and we set about the task of pushing a baby out of my tiny vagina.

I pushed with all my might. There were some points where my body would take over by itself and push on it is own... hard and low... almost like a convulsion.

I pushed and pushed.... at one point everyone started marveling at how Rowan had hair.. lots and lots of hair. I had two nurses with me. A young training nurse with fire red hair that was soo sweet. And another older nurse that was training her. I didn't like the older nurse.. she was curt, and not mothering or kind. The younger nurse was a nurturer...

Anyhow, the older nurse kept telling me to reach down and feel the baby coming out. I had nooo desire to do this. I was on a mission. I was pushing... please don't distract me I wanted to say.

So she just grabbed my hand and put it there. And I felt a rock hard egg shaped object coming out of my cooch.. it was gross.... and I'll never look at my vagina the same way.

The worse part was that I now had slime and goo on my hand.. so when I snapped my hand away to grab a hold of my leg again, it kept sliding off, which pissed me off to no end.

My sister was there, she was holding my right leg. My husband was on the left, holding my left leg. My Mom was behind me, with her arm wrapped around my shoulder holding me up as I curled around my stomach. She whispered things to me... "you’re doing good." "it’s going to be ok". I loved that part of having my mom there, it made me feel safe.

Finally, after one big push, I saw tears well up in my husbands eyes.. and he lost his composure completely. As soon as my mother saw that, she lost it too.. and I had the two of them sobbing around me, illuminated only by the one spot light in the room aimed at my cooch.

My sister is a nurse... like me, she's made of Iron. She merely watched.

The midwife said.."the head is out"... ahhh so that's why everyone was crying.

I felt NO ring of fire.

I think because I didn't have an epidural, and endured the pain of labor without medication, pushing did not hurt in comparison. It was a relief.

As soon as the head was out, the midwife asked me to stop for a second, and then once she gave me the all clear I gave on last push and felt a sucking, gooey, sliding sensation come flying out of my nether regions.

I'll never forget that sensation... I laid my shoulders and head back... and with an exasperated tone.. I sighed.."oh that felt so good."

and I meant it... it was such a release.

Here is where I discuss Stadol.

Don't bother ladies. I got it a gazillion times.. I begged the nurse for more every time she came near me simply because I hoped it would do something if I got more. But it never did. The pain didn't go away or even weaken. Instead it stoned me out so much I would fall asleep for the 2 seconds I had in between each contraction. That was all.

And because I was stoned when Rowan was born, I barely remember what happened. And I wasn’t coherent enough to absorb the moment and take her in.

They had to sweep her away as soon as she was out in order to suction her. There was mechonium in my water so it was vital they got it out fast.

And then I had pain again... eww.... why?? Wasn't that supposed to stop??? ooooh yeah.... placenta.. ick. I told the midwife I was contracting and asked if she'd like me to push.. she said go ahead if I felt the need.. so I did...and with one squishy push it plopped out into a metal basin.

The midwife inspected it like a woman observing an alien corpse. Apparently it had one detached vessel, which she mentioned was odd because normally they catch that in the ultrasound and also it causes babies to show signs of stress in the womb, which Rowan never did. I guess we lucked out with that one. The midwife was also kind enough to show me the placenta.. gag..... gee thanks.

Once the nurses were done with Rowan, they wrapped her up loosely in a blanket and handed her to me. I groped for my glasses and put them on. Only to find that my vision was all messed up. I couldn’t see well at all… I found later it was because I had popped multiple vessels in my eyes while pushing.

I squinted at her though, and I remember she looked nothing like I thought she would but exactly like she should.

She had flaming red hair.. and the nurses and doctor couldn't' stop talking about it.

Ahh Rowan.... my little Rowan.. which consequently, means little red haired one in Gaelic.

I immediately started to breastfeed. Because it’s what I felt I should do. I didn't need anyone to show me how.. it was perfectly easy and natural. And Rowan latched on like a champ...

My mother in law came in then... and marveled at her first Grandchild. Soon after I was done breastfeeding my poor awaiting Dad came in as well as my FIL.... My husband stood nearby... doting at Rowan... staring at her.... overwhelmed and in shock. He hadn't even held her yet. So I offered her to him...and I watched him gaze down at her with the most beautiful love filled watery eyes.

And that is how my not so little now Rowan came into this world.

You've got an awful lot of Ink for someone so young

When I worked at restaurant in my younger days.... the name of this post is something one of our distributors said to me. I had no idea what he meant... I was that naive... he laughed at me... and pointed out my tattoos. Ohhhhhh yeah... yeah I do.

I have always been an avid lover of art. My senior year in high school I lived in the art room. I painted, drew, did pottery, you name it.

The transition into getting my first tattoo and "expressing" my 18 year old self was pretty easy. I'll never forget sitting in LA Ink (a Laconia biker tattoo shop) and picking out my first tattoo. I had drawn an Alien face, but the artist told me it would need to be a LARGE tattoo in order to preserve all the details. Thank goodness he talked me out of it. So instead, I have a random gecko..??? ahh well, he's a happy little fella climbing up my calf.

I later got a sun tattoo on the top part of my arm. It has no meaning other than I liked it. During my second tattoo, (another tribal looking sun) I had them also put a swirl inside the 1st sun tattoo because everyone asked me if it was the Godsmack sun ugh.

My third tattoo was a tramp stamp if you will. It's on my lower back and its a Celtic knot work shamrock. My sister had gotten the same tattoo a few years prior and I fell in love with the design then. When I called her the day I had it done, she called me an asshole. Apparently she wasn't that pleased with the sentiment of sharing a sisterly tattoo haha ahh well, that's my sister for you.

My fourth tattoo was quite a long time later. This tattoo was something I put alot of thought into. And in fact, I designed it myself. I wanted it to look like a henna tattoo and it's on my foot. Everyone that sees it during the summer always complements me on the henna art. At which point I explain that its real. Its my favorite one... and someday I'll have another design done on my other foot.

The last tattoo I got was a cute little 50's pin-up inspired rubber ducky. My daughter loved rubber duckies as a child. Probably because I have always been into them and had collected quite a few to display in her room. We also decorated her room in a duck theme when she was an infant. She had no choice but to like them. Beneath the tattoo is her name. It resides on my flabby belly. To remind me why the belly is flabby and so that I will always be thankful for that flab, because with it, came the greatest love of my life. My daughter.

Nostalgic

I always get a bit nostalgic around Rowan's birthday. The thought that she'll be three in 2 short months completely blows my mind. It didn't help that hubs and I had the maybe baby 2 convo last night. It wont' be for a while, but the conversation took place either way.

anyhoodle.. I updated Rowan's month by month slide show today.. and thought I'd share. It still feels like 2 days ago that she was born.. its crazy!

I am mother, hear me roar.

Friday is my grocery shopping day. As I meandered the protien bar aisle of the Super Walmart... there was a new mom, baby strapped to her chest, pushing a cart and talking to said baby.

I didn't even think twice about it... all mother's aimlessy chatter at thier new borns.

It wasn't until she started speaking to me that I noticed she'd become embarassed....

"Babies give us an excuse to talk to ourselves..." and she giggled a bit uncomfortably.

I laughed back.... smilling inwardly at her "new Momness".

"I totally understand... mine is almost three... although thankfully she talks back now so I don't feel so silly. We all do it.... I remember having full blown conversations with mine while she sat asleep in her car seat in front of me...."

She giggled... and smilled.. thankful I had empathized with her...... and she strolled on by.

I stood staring at the protein bar selection feeling warm and fuzzy inside... and a sudden realization occured...

I am no longer a rookie.

I am a seasoned mom now... a battle ax... I've survived the first 3 years of babyhood and come out on the otherside entering the realms of childhood with Rowan.

I don't think that woman looked up to me or anything lofty like that.. but I think my seasoned Mom-ness made her new Mom-ness feel a bit better about herself and her inexperience. Hearing from me that she was doing is exactly what all us mother's do, in some small way, probably made her feel more like a Mom.

I say this, because its hard when you first start out. You don't always feel like a mom in the beginning. You feel more like a woman with a baby... going through the motions.. but not necessarily feeling as though you've earned the stamp of "mommy" yet.

I remember the first time I truly felt like a mother. Rowan was 9 months old... she had her first really bad cold.... and during the night she got a fever of well over 102. She had been to the pede earlier in the day and had no infections or cause to worry so the pede told me simply to ride the fever out.

She was miserable...and was delirous with the fever.. unable to stay fully awake.. whimpering.. it was so horrible to watch.

But she needed me... she needed me every second... I couldn't put her down or walk away.. she needed to know that I was there, holding her... and making her feel as better as I could. Despite my exhuastion.... my own weariness, I had no desire to stop taking care of her. I had to take care of her... I wanted too... I needed too... She was my baby girl, and I was her mommy. No one in the world could have made her feel better and more safe in that moment than I. Just like when I was a child, my mother could make anything better, she could kiss the boo boo, or give a hug when sad... Mom's are all the medicine a child needs..... And that's when it hit home.

I was a mom.

Our Wedding

It took me a week and a day to download this onto Youtube so thought I should share it. so here it is :)

A couple things to note.. the color seems off, my dress was a deep red.

The damn shoulder strap would not stay up.

Yes I totally blanked out on saying Yes at the start of my vows...

Wow, could someone please tell me to stand up straight?

Don't ya love my hair? Big thanks to a very flamboyantly wonderful Gay man at the Mirage salon :0)

Love the pastor don't you??? Doesn't he sound like the priest in Princess Bride? Twoooo wove.... mawwwaige....

The videographer/photographer was the Elvis inpersonator.. he was a goof...and yes, he took 69 pictures and thought he was soooo funny because of it hahaha

Racing days

I thought it would be fun to post some old pics of us when Barney raced :)

After Sex Deep Thoughts - 3

Not last night, but the night before... oh yes.. it was that time of the week again.

This week I thought about Boo and I...... and the ups and downs we've been through.

So I figured I'd take a few minutes and tell our story.

I've already blogged about how we met.... But after the initial "fall" into love, we continued on like most couples I suppose.

We were in college together... both had jobs... and we both had a life we were trying to merge together. At the time I had an apartment left over from my married days, and I had two young UNH kids living with me in my second bedroom to help pay rent. Barney wasn't prepared to move in with me when the ex moved out (It had only been a month)... so in came Dave and Corissa.

What a strange couple these two were... and having them in my home resulted in many many wars. My home is my sanctuary, and having to share it was already a sore spot... but then these two also ended up being slobs. They never cleaned their dishes, never helped out with regular housework and even ended up adopting a rabbit which left shavings alllll ovvvver the place.

We fought often.... although I should clarify, Corissa and I fought often. We tried desperately to make it work... but thankfully, after about 9 months or so... they finally left.

Boo moved in after we had dated 5 months... he was there every night anyways... why not join us and help pay some rent. And thus began our "adult live in" relationship.

Things with Boo and I got shaky right around a year. Things were going great... and I was totally head over heals for him. He however was going through some sort of "I just graduated college what do I do with my life now" mid twenties crisis. He interviewed for jobs... and finally accepted one as a manager trainee with a local Nuts and Bolts distributor. He hated it.... Barney has never been the type of guy to work in an office.. wear a tie... all that crud. He's a dirty man type of man.. you know... knuckle to the grind stone.. work hard... get messy... make things. He always has been.

He struggled with that for a long time.... he changed jobs back to UNH where he picked up his duties again as the Tools and materials supervisor... ie.. tool guy haha He liked to give himself a fancy title though. Basically he did material runs for all the various construction crews and made sure they had the tools on site that they needed.

He didn't hate this job.. but it wasn't going anywhere either.

One day he came home. He was very upset.... frantic almost... and asked that we could talk. So we sat down... and that's when he dropped the bomb.

He wanted to move to NC and get a job working on a race crew down there. It had always been a dream of his... and now that he was frantically searching for a purpose in his life, he felt this was going to fill it.

But..... he had no plans of taking me with him.... he was breaking up with me.

There was alot behind this decision. For one, he takes other's opinions to heart far to easily. He talked to the guys at work... and of course all the "guys" convinced him to ditch the girl and follow his dream. Because that's what real tough men do right? I think that I, also, was very into our relationship. I had been talking about buying homes... settling down.... etc etc... all the typical stuff that scares the crap right out of a guy. I think perhaps had his ex-wife not mutilated him when she left, he'd have been ok with it, but she was evil to him, and he was therefore a bit nervous about commitment. I can understand that.

So we were getting serious.. he wanted a big change in his life, he was scared and he basically decided that running was the best option.

That talk will forever live in my mind... I've never cried so hard... he's never cried so hard.... we were both devastate... and for what? We were obviously in love. Finally he got up and started packing some things... and I just lost it... and I grabbed him and I begged him to stay... I'd go where ever he wanted me to go... just don't leave.

And he melted into my arms... and we both fell onto our bed.. and sobbed.. and clung to one another for dear life.

It was decided that we'd both go to NC if that's truly what he wanted. I would follow him.... I loved him.... and he despite his doubt... loved me just as much.

We booked a flight.... and we flew down. He had an interview at Dale Earnhardt Inc... and one with Tony Steward's team. We visited all the shops and took in the sights. It was actually kind of awesome... But I hated it there. It was flat, and ugly and industrial. I never wanted to leave NH.. its my home, its where my family is.

The end result of our trip was that he pretty much had a job.. but he had to move down first... and then just ask to start.

We got home... and we didn't really talk about it for a while. Then he started asking about when he should plan to go. He'd set us up with an apartment while I tried to find a job from NH.. and later go down with him.

And my heart was in a tug-o-war. I wanted to stay home... I wanted to settle down, get married and make babies. What was I supposed to do? In desperation he bought me a pug puppy.... to keep me company and hopefully fill the void that moving would create. It didn't' work.

We were at in impasse. And confrontation was on the horizon.

And so it happened. One day... as we drove to my parents for a visit. I just broke down and let it all out... and I gave the ultimatum. I don't want to leave.. I want to stay, I want to get married... and I want to make babies. If you want me... then you must choose.


I'd like to say it was easy decision for him..."Oh I chose you baby, no problem". But it wasn't. This was a dream he'd had since he was a child. He'd always wanted to move to NC someday. And his dad always made it clear that his success in life hinged upon the type of work he did.. not upon how great a family man he could be. (he still makes that clear, but that's another post all together). Barney felt that in order to be seen as successful in his father's eyes, this is what he must do... be in the racing industry.

But Barney's heart had other ideas... and so he was also torn. It was a couple of very rough months for us. He was having a very hard time choosing his future... and of course this tore me up... wasn't I an easy choice?

I'll never forget the day that he chose. Again I was crying and broken hearted... I told him what I wanted out of life.. and I could not have it any other way.

And he finally... with tears in his eyes.... said he loved me to much to leave, that he wanted me. I knew it was a hard for him to do that... part of him wanted to go... but a bigger part of him wanted to stay. He had to turn his back on the pressure he got from his father... and for once in his life... stand up on his own, and make his own choice. It was a big moment for him.

And so we decided to stay. It was a relief for me. But for Barney, he was right back into that mid-twenties crisis. He had no idea what to do now. He didn't want to stay at UNH as the tool guy.. he wanted something more. That's when he decided to become an Electrician. He'd been an electrician helper for a short period right when he graduated high school and he'd really liked it.

So despite already having a degree, he signed up for night school and got a job as an apprentice. He suddenly had purpose again... and better yet, his Dad was proud of him again.

Four years later he's finished, and he loves it. I've never seen such a dedicated Electrician. He's online almost every night in an Electrical chat forum, he still studies the code despite already passing his test, and he's looking to get involved with another co-worker working on alternate energy installations.. ie.. photovoltaic panels and windmills. He's so excited about his work, and you can see the smile in his eyes when he talks about it.

Of course I got my way also... he proposed about a year after our NC fiasco, we were married a few months later on January 27th in Vegas, and then that summer I came home, put my birth control on the coffee table and told him I wasn't taking it anymore. If he wanted sex, then we were having a baby. At first he was a bit taken by surprise, but then he got excited. And he got alot of sex... he couldn't complain about that to much.

I found out I was pregnant in August of that summer.. It happened fast, apparently despite my endometriosis, I am a fertile Myrtle. I was so excited about my positive pregnancy test that I called him on the phone to tell him, I couldn't even wait to see him in person.

He got home, hugged me, and with a twinkle of excitement in his eye he said "We're really having a baby???? Can I teach it things?" hahaha He was elated...

Rowan was born in April of 06... and its been a blur of time flying by since.

Barney and I are as solid as ever... although being parents takes a tole on any marriage... we still are very much dedicated to this being a forever thing.

And despite the difficulty he had choosing this life.... He is the happiest most dedicated Father I have ever seen. He and Rowan have a bond unlike any other. She has him wrapped around her little finger...

I know he loves her more than me... and I'm totally ok with that.

Late Night Musings - An expanded post

So Elissa found my comments this morning about my After Sex Deep Thoughts post, quite amusing. Particularly the bit about my black lover with the long shlong that nearly killed me. She laughed even harder when I told her the rest of the story.. so I thought I'd share with all.

Said gentleman was another man I met online. He was a single Dad, accountant, with an obsession with collecting DVDs. Literally went to the store every Tuesday to pick up the latest releases.

Overall though, we had fun on our dates.

Our last date was at his apartment where we snuggled on his couch and watched a couple of his new movies... don't ask me which, I can't remember.. I do remember one of them was scary and I hate scary movies.. way to sucker the girl into holding onto you tight.

Anyhoodle... we snuggled... and about half way through the 2nd movie, things got a little steamy.

We headed off to his bedroom where things got... err... hot and heavy.

The story takes a turn for the comical at the end of our evening's... ummm... activities??

Mr. Well hung was coming towards the end of his... rope... to put it delicately... and at the moment of his glorious finish.... his mouth opened in exasperation.... and out flew the blob of double mint spearmint gum he had been chewing.

Why gum in the mouth during sex??? I don't know.. I never asked.

Anyhoodle.... said piece of gum came flying out of his mouth... and hit me in the back of the head.... (I feel as though I've given to much information with that description but I don't know how else to say it)

Of course my long flowing curly red hair was down... and thus it engulfed the mass of sticky chewing gum completely.... and I heard.. "Oh shit, my gum" as if I hadn't noticed.

We both embarrassingly laughed... cleaned up...got dressed, and guilty Mr. Well Hung had to cut the offensive piece of sticky mess out of my hair before I shamefully drove home to the awaiting half ex husband.

It rocked.

The next day I shot him an email. As mentioned the sex in and of itself was extremely painful. I don't know if it was just his gargantuan size, or the fact that I had endometriosis (and therefore a sensitive cervix)... but I could never go through such pain again.

I told him politely that his anatomy was a bit more than I could handle comfortably, and therefore I was going to have to regretfully decline seeing him again.

His email was back was understanding. He asked if he could use our email on his online profile as a joke to lure woman... I granted permission with a smile... and the then thanked me for the best breakup excuse ever... and we parted ways.

Thus ends the story of Mr. Well Hung.

I found some old pics today

And I just had to share

This was taken the night before my bff and I went of to college.... this was our group of friends... and it was such a sad sad night. It brings back alot of memories.... good and sad.



This is my sister and I, we were young,maybe 4 and 2... It was taken at Benson's Animal Farm on a solo trip with my Dad.... I love it... its one of my favorite childhood photos. Between the "backside" written on the back wall and my sister not being tall enough to actually fit into the frame, it just makes me laugh.



This was a pic of my girlfriends and I before heading out for Senior prom :) We all went stag, and yes I know my dress was super green but it was in 17 Magazine that year for being stylish, so plllllllllllll (that's a raspberry)


And lastly this is my 13th birthday. It was a suprise party with pizza (obviously since i'm stuffing my face with it) and all my friends and family :) Don't ya just dig my color change shirt and tight rolled pants? I sure do

Friday Photo - 3 Years of Christmas Photos

I am participating in Calli's (http://creatingmotherhood.com/) Photo Friday. This weeks theme is early or first Christmas photos. And so I share Rowan's first Santa Claus Experience. This was taken in 2006, she was 8 months old. I love her cute little bare feet and the fact that she was OBSESSED with santa's beard. I actually had to warn him when I plopped her in his lap, to watch out, because she was a puller and amazingly enough his beard was real.

Enjoy! :)



And Because I can't simply stop at one, here are three photos from Christmas morning in 2006.





And of course one from last year, 2007...... how fast they grow.



And lastly, One from a few days ago all dressed up in her Christmas dress for her concert at school.

Oh and just so we're clear on why he fell in love with me

Oh and just so we're clear on why he fell in love with me

Our Wedding - Flash backs

I have been on a huge cleaning/decluttering spree today and in that process I found the disc with our wedding photos on it. I immediately uploaded them all onto snapfish so that we'd have them saved somewhere if the disc was ever damaged.

I perused through them reminiscing about the ceremony and the trip.

For those that don't know, Barney and I were married in 2005 in Vegas. We'd both been married before and had both experienced a large wedding. We'd started planning a small potluck style wedding at his parent's house but before we knew it, we were looking into renting tents, chairs portable potties and a gazillion other things. It was supposed to be small and low key and had morphed into something huge.

So, after a frustrating lunch break spent researching rental prices, I finally brought up expedia and curiously checked out prices for a trip to vegas.

To my surprise it was cheaper than the "cheap" wedding we were trying to plan. One quick phone call to Boo and I was booking the trip.

It was a spur of the moment decision and within a month we were on the plane.

The only people we told were my parents and my sis. We were hoping my mother and sister would come along so at least someone was there... and they agreed. Actually we ended up booking the ceremony for January 27th, my mother's birthday. :)

We had it at the Las Vegas Garden of Love Wedding Chapel, which unfortunately doesn't look to be in business anymore. Sniffles.

Anyhow, the ceremony was short and sweet. We laughed alot... cried a bit... and then we kissed and headed off to the Stratosphere Tower to have dinner.

Along the way we also visited all the cool hot spots in town and took a bus tour over the the Hoover Dam.

Oh we announced the wedding by sending out post cards from Vegas to our family and friends :)