Showing posts with label guest-post. Show all posts
Showing posts with label guest-post. Show all posts

5.16.2012

Guest Blogger: "I am Not the Kind of Person to Sit Around Waiting for a Baby to Come"

Last week on the blog I shared the exciting news that my sister, Camille, had given birth to her baby daughter, Oakley, in a city hall parking lot. Several people asked, "How does that happen?!" Well, my friends, I am here to deliver. No, not a baby, but the amazing story as written by Camille herself, my guest blogger today. (And by the way, never mind that she went and gave birth by herself in a parking lot. I'm more in awe of her actually getting the birth story written down in only a week from the birth date! I still haven't written Baby Cee's birth story down and she's a "mere" 16 months. Sheesh!) Without further adieu, Oakley's incredible birth story...


I woke at 4:17 am with some contractions. They were not bad at all but got me excited so I laid in bed timing the contractions at 8-10 minutes apart. Around 4:45 I got up and did some laundry. I finished packing the bags, got ready for the day, plugged in the camera, video camera, and my cell phone… meanwhile tracking my contractions with the iPad at around 6 minutes apart. I had arranged with Christy (sister in law) to tape the birth so I texted her and she was ready to go at the drop of a hat. When I had Micah, I started contracting at 4:45 am and lost my plug around 7:00 am I was waiting for my plug to come before I got too concerned about heading up to the hospital.

By 8:30 the contractions were consistent. I was busy around the house and would yell to Tyler “START!” and he was clocking them at 2-6 minutes apart. I called Dr. Clifford (who was on vacation) to tell him but felt ridiculous because as soon as I hung up the contractions came to a dead stop and he was in Yellowstone so it wasn’t like he could have done anything anyway. Christy showed up and still no contractions.

We (Christy, Tyler and I) took Micah to daycare then headed to some stores to get supplies for our mutual activity that night. I figured the walking would help get the contractions going again. Still nothing. I asked Tyler to take me to work so I could finish up some stuff I had been working on the day before. He asked if I wanted him to stay with me but I didn’t because I already felt like him and Christy had been following me around like I was on suicide watch or something.

My boss had us employees come in for a powwow since we figured the baby was coming soon. I ended up stepping out of that meeting a couple of times to have contractions out in the hall. I would step out, stand in the hall feet shoulder width apart, and rock. Breathing in for three rocks, breathing out for three rocks. The contraction would end and I would step back into the meeting. A couple times I was mid sentence and I would just stop turn and go into the hall. I wasn’t timing them so I wasn’t aware of how close they were coming.

My biggest fear always has been and always will be, that I will be that woman who comes running into the hospital yelling, "I’m in labor! This baby is coming! Why isn’t anyone doing anything?!" Then they will check me, lean around my stirrupped spread legs and say, “Mrs. Gilbert, you are at a one. We are just going to have you head home for a bit, you poor excuse for a child bearing woman, and try to walk around till you get a little…or a lot more dilated. Alrighty mmm hm okay?” *snap off gloves* Due to this fear I tell myself, "It’s got to get worse, suck it up woman, you are not going in yet, your baby will be prettier if you wait three more contractions." You know, encouraging things like that. Anyway…

Tyler asked if I wanted to come to lunch with him, Christy, and Travis. I told him that the contractions were starting to make me sick to my stomach so I didn’t want to go eat and be contracting in a restaurant. As soon as I said “Just go without me and come get me when you are done” the contractions seemed to step it up a notch. I would rock and dig my finger tips into the small of my back to relieve some of the pressure.

I got scared at this point. I had gone through a lot of mental preparation to have this baby natural and pain free but these were hurting and I felt like I was losing focus. I was tired because I had been up since 4 and I started to get weak and think about how easy it would be to get the epidural. I had to remind myself that my discomfort was worth it to give this little girl a drug free entrance into this world.

I texted Tyler again asking him to come get me ASAP. When he got there, the contractions were really painful and coming every few minutes in fact I got in the car then got right back out again to have a contraction. While I was contracting, Erin (my sister) called. So just as a point of reference, I work at Gateway Financial on the corner of Cedar and Pole Line. I started talking to Erin while Tyler headed down Pole Line to Tammy’s house to drop Travis off. We got out of the parking lot and I started explaining to Erin that I had not lost my plug yet so I must not be that dilated. She told me that not everyone loses their plug in one big mass. Good thing I have sisters to educate me.

We had only gone one block when I started another contraction so I got off the phone with her as Tyler pulled into the V1 propane on the corner of Pole Line and Alameda. I finished the contraction then straightened up. I heard a popping noise and water came gushing down my leg. I felt her drop down and her head hit my pelvis.

I said, “My water just broke this baby is coming NOW! We need to go to the hospital!” Tyler said, “Travis can you walk the rest of the way?” Travis jumped out and I think was more than willing to get out of the situation. Ha ha! I kneeled on the front passenger seat facing backward. Tyler pulled out of the parking lot and headed down Alameda. Before we even reached the grade school I felt another contraction and I felt her head pushing down between my legs. I said “Tyler her head is RIGHT there!” I felt him speed up.

Another contraction, I put my hand between my legs and encouraged her head NOT to come out. When a contraction came, I would bury my head in the head rest try to will her not to come. Christy said she thinks I bit the headrest at one point. Ha ha! When I was not contracting I was planning and thinking about how best to deal with the situation. I could feel Tyler swerving around cars and hear him talking about lights being red. I was hugging the head rest and thinking about what will happen when we get to the hospital because there is no way I will be able to stand up.

The contractions were coming fast and I was trying to resist the urge to push but at a certain point your body takes over and does what it needs to do in order to accomplish the goal. Another contraction, the fact is made know to me that in the next contraction her head is coming out. I told Tyler, “You’ve got to pull over this baby is coming out and I need your help.”

Tyler told Christy to call 911 and she was right on it. I pulled my shorts down around my knees and put my hand between my legs in time to feel her head come out. Tyler got into a parking spot and I said, “I have her head in my hand” He ran around the car and ripped open the door as I heard Christy giving the address to the 911 operator. I thought to myself “How on earth did Christy just KNOW the address of where we are!?” Then my thoughts were ripped back to the situation at hand…or literally, IN hand.

Christy was instructed to give the phone to Tyler so the operator could talk Tyler through the delivery but when Tyler saw her head and the rest of her body coming out he threw the phone back and said, “I can’t talk right now, she’s coming!” Then with my hand on her head and Tyler’s hands on her body with one last contraction she made her grand entrance.

Labor and Delivery gown
I grabbed her from between my legs and pulled her up to my stomach but didn’t want to pull too tight on the umbilical cord. Her body was limp and her head flopped onto my arm. I started stroking my thumb and finger down the sides of her nose to clear her nose of fluid. I heard Christy talking about not having a towel to wrap her in but then she threw me the labor and delivery gown I had sewn. I wrapped her up as best I could then started rubbing her back to stimulate her to cry. I told her what a good girl she was and asked her to give me a good cry. I got a few good squeals out of her when Lieutenant Scott Marchand and Officer Jordan Johnson came up to the car. They asked me my name and how we were doing. I was still in disbelief so I just said, “We are doing great!”

They had me hold onto her until the ambulance and paramedics arrived minutes later. I just rubbed her, stroked her nose, and tried to keep her warm. It was such a beautiful thing to be able to be the very first person to touch her, to hold her. Mine was the first voice she heard and I wasn’t screaming or swearing or telling Tyler this was all his fault. Tyler and I were there as husband and wife with the newest member of our family. We had done it together and grown stronger as a couple because of that. He trusted me to listen to my body and I trusted him to not wreck while speeding and running red lights and I trusted him to catch her.

Christy had started recording by this point. I was having placenta contractions but otherwise felt really really good. The paramedics clamped the cord and had Tyler come around and cut it. I looked around at this point and saw around 15 emergency response people standing around the car. Tyler said someone yelled, “Hey you guys are really good at standing around! Why don’t you create a wall over there and give this woman some privacy?” It was then that I saw people holding up a sheet between Yellowstone and me. That was appreciated, but my dignity was all but out the window back at Alameda.

I was able to flip over in the seat so I was laying down. They took my vitals and brought the gurney over. The guy said, “Ok we are going to move you over to the gurney so we can load you into the ambulance.” I didn’t even think about it I just wrapped the towel they had cleaned the baby off with around my waist and got out of the car and over onto the gurney. The paramedics were like, “Well, WE were going to move you over, but that works.”

They buckled me in and said, “So what are we going to name this baby?” I didn’t think about it and just said, “Her name is Oakley”. I heard some approving sounds then I heard clapping. They loaded me into the ambulance and Tyler came in with a phone saying that Officer Marchand insisted on a picture of the baby because he’d been doing this for 28 years and never seen anything like this and everyone was going to be asking if he’d gotten a picture.


Christy drove the CR-V, Tyler sat next to me in the ambulance, and Oakley was at my head in the paramedic’s lap. I felt calm and in control the entire time. At no point did I feel that dreaded sinking feeling of “what if” that people often talk about. I knew that between my preparation to have the least invasive natural birth and the protection of the Lord that we had done fine and we were going to be fine. I am sure the adrenaline flowing through my veins like cocaine was also helpful in this euphoric feeling.

We arrived at the hospital where they asked how we were doing and decided to bypass the ER because everyone seemed to be good so we headed straight up to labor and delivery. On Monday night Tyler and I had come to the hospital to attend a maternity social. The class was instruction on where to come into the hospital when you were in labor, how to check in, they showed us the rooms we would be in, etc. Needless to say, that was NOT the route we took to get to labor and delivery. Ha ha!

Since Dr. Clifford was out of town, Dr. Burton was the on call doctor for the office. He arrived--a bit flustered it seemed--but soon settled into routine and was joking around as he assessed the situation. They announced Oakley’s birth weight as 7 pounds, 13 ounces and birth length 20 inches. I asked her to repeat herself because if I had heard correctly she was more than a pound lighter than Micah and 2 inches shorter. I hadn’t expected that.

I still had to deliver the placenta and was more then ready to get that process started. Dr. Burton was allowing the resident OB to do this until he saw how much pain this inexperienced student was putting me through. I think the resident was used to working with women who had had epidurals and had no feeling below the waist. I could definitely feel each harsh aggressive movement as he pushed and poked and even dug to get the placenta out. Finally Dr. Burton took pity on me and took over. Within minutes he told me to give a big "heave ho!" and we got it out. Then he sewed me up. I didn’t tear as bad as I did with Micah but there was still some reconstructive work to do. While they were sewing me up someone said, “Did we happen to get a time of birth for this baby?” Uh…no. We looked at what time we called 911...1:14 and added five minutes to that. Time of birth: 1:19 pm.

The nurse brought Oakley over and said her temperature was a little low and they wanted to do skin to skin to get her warmed up. I looked down to take my shirt off and realized what a mess it was. One of my favorite maternity shirts and it was covered in blood and birth. I took it off and realized, Oh my gosh! Our car! The seat! This warm day…heating up the car! Oh yuck! I started talking about it and the nurse said, “Now don’t you worry about that. You have this little baby and she is perfect. Just worry about that later.”

A nurse came in and said she had a funny story for me. She had been down in the ER when a patient said to her, “Did a woman just have her baby in the City Hall parking lot?” The nurse said she hadn’t heard anything about it at that point. Just after that they received the call that the ambulance was headed in with a mom and baby that was delivered in the City Hall parking lot. The nurse went back to the patient and asked how he’d known about it. The guy said someone heard it over the police scanner and posted it up on this Internet news site, then it sent him as a notification on his phone of the most up to date news. The nurse thought it was pretty funny but I was just in shock. It is odd how quickly my personal life can travel without me knowing or having a say.

Tyler came and told me he’d just gotten off the phone with Mom and she sounded like she was on the verge of tears. I guess she had texted me and stopped by the office and couldn’t find me. Then within minutes, she received a text from Tyler saying "we’d had the baby, mom and baby were fine, baby born in car". Ha ha! Needless to say, Mom was a little concerned. She came into the room minutes later and started to cry. She came to my bedside and said, “Don‘t do that to me!” It was good to have her there. In surreal situations, mom always seems to ground me and bring me back to Earth.

She asked if we had settled on "Oakley" and I said, “Yep, 'Oakley Deena'.” I don’t think we had told Mom we were thinking about naming our daughter after her so she started to cry again and was waving her hand in front of her face like she was swatting flies. I heard Tyler talking to Christy and asked what was up. Apparently his mom and Nicole did not believe that Oakley had been born in the car. Tyler was trying to convince them.

We were told we had some visitors and in walked Officer Marchand and Officer Johnson! They said they had just come to see how things were going and make sure we were good. He said there was already an email going around telling the story. He complimented me on how calm I had been and talked about how so much bad stuff happens in his job it is really nice to see something good happen. He told us that someone back at the office told him to let us know they thought we should name the baby "Justice". Good thought…but not gonna happen.

We took some pictures with them and let them hold the baby. I asked if either of them had known Officer Dan Gilbert. Officer Marchand said he had worked with him for a while. I pointed to Tyler and said, "This is his son." Officer Marchand held Oakley up and with a bit of emotion said, “So, this is Dan’s baby granddaughter.” I looked over at Mom and all the sudden she was "swatting flies" left and right!

The Portneuf PR lady came into the room and said, “Well, news travels fast! Now this is totally up to you and my job is to support your decision and help protect you if need be. I have four news sources that would like to come get your story.” I just laughed out loud and thought, Wow it must be a slow news day for Pocatello. Tyler and I agreed to have them come around 4 pm. Mom ran to get Micah from daycare and I ate some lunch.

Photography by Idaho State Journal
At 4 pm, in came two video cameras, a digital camera, and a recorder. They got the spelling of our names and gave us some instructions then continued on with the interview. It was all rather odd and I worried the entire time that I would say something dumb and they would edit it so I looked like a dumb white trash woman who was too foolish to realize she was in labor so she decided to head to the liquor store by the police station before she headed into the hospital.

After the interview we all just sat in the room for a while soaking everything in. Then we moved to recovery, Room 226. I looked at my phone and had eight texts from different people asking what was going on and what happened. Including one from Dr. Clifford that said, “You bad girl!” I had to call Kay to let her know I had gotten the stuff for the Young Women's activity but she said they were probably just going to head up to the hospital to see us. Natalie Houghton (a friend from the ward) stopped by. I made some other phone calls to family. Travis came, then Tammy and Shayla. While they were there, Dad came.

Nursery stopped in to get her for a bath so Tyler and I kicked everyone out and went to watch. Her short dark hair turned into long light hair! So, so much hair! The young women came and gave me a blanket they had tied. When they left I ate dinner. Rachel Thomas came around nine. We watched the news story then visited til ten. The nursery came to take her away for her hearing test and said they would keep her until she woke to eat. Tyler headed home.

Alone…Alone for the first time in what felt like eternity! I was so tired yet the second I rolled over to sleep the day started reeling though my head and I was wide awake. I laid there for what seemed like forever but was only about a half hour and I fell asleep.

The whole day was crazy. Looking back now, I realize those contractions that I was suffering in silence in the hall at work, that were making me sick, that was transition labor. I realize now, that my body doesn’t do "false labor". It may take a break but it isn’t giving up. I realize that not all laboring is the same, even in the same woman. I realize that with my next baby, when I feel pain in my back, I am having am likely having a baby within six hours. I realize that some people really think me foolish for even going in to work when I was feeling contractions, but they had stopped and I am not the kind of person to sit around waiting for a baby to come. I have things to do.

Of all the things I have come to realize, this is what I realize the most: Women have been having babies for centuries. It is the most natural trauma we can put our bodies through. Our female structures KNOW how to deal with a four, seven, or ten pound ball coming out of a once very small opening. If we just relax and have faith in the strength that we have within us, it will happen. You just do what needs to be done.



8.11.2010

Phoenix, city of mystery, of enchantment and...

Last guest-post from dear Cannwin. Do leave her a little bloggy love. Then come see my thoughts on the Valley of the Sun at her little nook of the blogosphere. Enjoy!

...the finest memories that side of the Rocky Mountains.

* * *



I have a major love/hate relationship with Phoenix, but that's not very hard to achieve. Phoenix is...

...

...

undefinable.

It is merely a rush of emotion and memory built one atop the other until I am overwhelmed with thoughts and feelings.

Phoenix is

>The first place I lived as a married woman

>My first child

>My second child

>My first home

>Family

>Best friends

>Girl's Night Out

Phoenix is


>115* F in the summer

>Traffic

>Brown

>Monsoon's

>Traffic

>Operation Iraqi Freedom

>Dust Storms

>Traffic

I have a lot I miss about that Valley of the Sun. Several brother-in-laws live there (with accompanying spouses and children) as well as some of my dearest friends.

It's where I first experienced adult life and therefore cannot be easily separated into good/bad, pro/con. However, the thought of living there again leaves me feeling less than excited. I have no desire to deal with the heat or the traffic or the crime again.

Besides, so much has happened since then!


And as life moves on it takes on new elements of joy and leaves Phoenix smoldering in the sun.

Since those first 7 years our world has been filled with new life, new landscapes, and new surprises.



Our once tiny family has doubled. Our goals and aspirations have changed.


No longer do we desire the fast pace of the big city.

Do I miss the malls, and the movie theatres, and the conveniences?

You bet I do.

But I wouldn't take them back if it meant never moving to South Dakota.


Because that's really what life's about, moving on and savoring the memories that are behind us.

I've had a quote in my purse since as long as I can remember--that sums it all up pretty nicely.

Oh that I could go—yet stay,
Have tomorrow, keep today,
Cherish, hold my yesterday.
My yesterday, now treasured dear,
Was once tomorrow seen with fear.

8.04.2010

How-To: Contain All Those School Papers

Cannwin is taking over again for me today and I for her. Today we are presenting you with "How-To's". She's got a very clever way to keep all the school paper clutter to a minimum and I'm instructing you on the fine art of sushi...well, sort of. Head on over to The Great and Random Ramblings of Cannwin to see what I mean. Don't you love how different two posts with the same theme can be?

At the end of the last school year my 1st grader came home with a 'book' his teacher had made to contain all of my sons important or special papers from the year.

The make-up of the book was so simple that I couldn't help but fall in love.



Each month had it's own pocket with a corresponding picture of my child (or his class) from that time period. Inside the pocket were tests, school work or art projects that he had done during that month.



It was pure genius!

In fact I loved it so much that I've decided to implement it's use for all of my children for each year... in the hopes that it will contain the insane amount of papers we receive during the year.

It also makes a good post for today's blog swap. So I'm going to teach you how to make your own--super easy--'Back to School Book.'

What you need:
> At least 5 folders (one pocket for each month your child is in school)
> Scissors
> Label stickers
> Permanent marker

Step One:
You will need to take one of your folders and cut it in half to make the front and back cover. Like the picture instructs. :)



On the bottom right hand corner is where I put the name of my child and the grade the folder pertained to.




Step Two:
Fold the rest of your folders so that the pockets are on the outside, with the crease on the outer edge of what will become your book. Label each pocket with a month... preferably in order ::wink::


Step Three:
Paper clip the almost book into the order you want and then take it down to a print shop to get it bound. I did two books and it cost me around $8 for both. It also should only take a few minutes to get them done.

Important note: Your going to bind the loose side of the folders. The folded edge will be the outside--YOU DO NOT BIND THE FOLDED EDGE.... unless you're me, then you'll discover that staples work fine as well.







Step Four:
Admire your handiwork.

Step Five:
Put the book somewhere easily accessible so that you can use it throughout the school year to catch important papers and report cards. When the year is over stick it in your child's special file (or whatever your equivalent is).

Enjoy!

7.30.2010

Don't Tell Mom the Babysitter's Dead

Did you wake Wednesday morning with eager anticipation to read another guest post from Cannwin only to be brutally disappointed? Sorry 'bout that. Apparently reliable internet is one of those blessings I took for granted when I lived in a big city. Dangit. Que sera. It's Friday and sheeeeeeeee's baaaaaaaack! Welcome Cannwin once again here at Hanging by a Silver Lining and find me over at her little bloggy nest, The Great and Random Ramblings of Cannwin today. Happy Friday!

Cannwin with her fellow culprits

This morning I asked my husband what he would write about if this was his topic. He said, "I'd talk about the war in Afghanistan."

::crickets chirping::

"What, my darling, does that have to do with dead babysitters?"

"Well, it's something that no-one talks about, a big secret."

Now as I sit here talking I can't remember if he was of the mind we would win or lose in Afghanistan. All I remember is that his interpretation of this theme was 'cover-up.'

So I thought I'd run with that.

When I was a kid, we rarely had babysitters. In fact I don't particularly remember anyone coming over to tend us.

Mainly this was because my mom and dad never went out together, but also I think my parents just figured we could take care of ourselves (it was way back when the world was safe).

Well, since kids are kids, it was inevitable that we would get ourselves into trouble.

Boy were we good at that, we lit things on fire and dropped them off our deck. We jumped from the loft onto the couch on the floor below. We used an entire roll of Polaroid's taking pictures of the cat. We rolled cars down the driveway. We got in trouble... frequently.

The worst thing I ever did, however, was try to use my brothers B-B Gun. I've never quite been comfortable with guns since then.

So here's how it went (as far as I can recall), my parents were gone, my brother was off doing something and my sister and I were alone.

And bored.

I was about 8 she was around 4. I imagine it was my idea, being the oldest--and very much the instigator between the two of us--but I can't remember exactly how we ended up with the gun. I don't even remember how it ended up pressed firmly against the sliding glass door. All I really remember is thinking that I had the safety on as I pulled the trigger.

I didn't have the safety on.

My heart nearly stopped beating and in the half a second it takes for a bullet to go from a gun into it's intended target I experienced one of my first ever 'rewind moments' (when you immediately want to rewind and take back what you just did).

The glass shattered... into a million tiny pieces smaller than a fingernail.

Time stood still, I waited for the glass to tumble to the ground, but it stayed in the door frame. My sister breathed something like, "Uh-Oh."

I remember my young life flashing before my eyes. Dad was going to kill me for sure.

How do you hide such a thing?! How do you keep your parents from noticing that their door is... you know... gone?

Well, I'll tell you what doesn't work, shutting the curtains.

Nor is it a good idea to pretend the tiny sparkles all over the window are water droplets from the rain.

Another tactic to not use is to turn on your little sister and blame her. Especially when she's four.

Or trying to lay the guilt at your older brothers feet for leaving his b-b gun out in the first place.

Nope, not good methods of a cover-up, and not very good ways to get allies either.

I didn't die, but that door stayed like that for eight whole years. When I was 16 my mom remodeled the house and finally, blessedly, gratefully removed the evidence of my utter stupidity.

I don't think the b-b gun survived though and I don't think my siblings have ever quite forgotten my betrayal.

Whenever the door comes up the first thing my sister says is 'Remember how you turned on me and yelled, What did you do to the door!?'

Yes, I remember.

Whenever I happen to be holding a gun in my hands (which is infrequent) I might find myself receiving a comment like, "Now make sure the safety's where you want it to be. Oh, and red doesn't mean it's on."

Yes, yes, how could I forget.

The biggest result of my actions of twenty years ago is that I'm always sure to get a babysitter when I leave my house, because I don't want to come home and find out what my children are really capable of.

7.21.2010

On Wife-ing

It's Wednesday and that means another guest-post by Cannwin! Find me over at her blog today. We tackled the same topic: Wife-ing. Make sure to leave her a little bloggy love in the form of a comment and come visit me over at The Great and Random Ramblings of Cannwin. And Happy Wednesday!


A friend never defends a husband who gets his wife an electric skillet for her birthday. - Erma Bombeck


I have been married for nearly ten years now--we've been together for nearly eleven years--and you know what? He still buys me size 20 pants.

I used to think it was ridiculous for women to cry over such things... that was before I got married.

I used to say it was the wife's fault for marrying someone who can't tell sizes... before I got married.

Now I know.

"Honey." He'll say in that happy, boyishly excited tone. "I got you something."

Two things run through my head at this point--1) uh-oh 2) maybe he got something good this time. Inevitably I get my hopes up.

The worst present I've ever received was actually not clothing.

"You are going to love this!"

He got me so excited. I was practically bouncing when Christmas morning came.

It was two boxes. I opened the big one first (because big presents are rarely as good as small ones).

It was a remote controlled car.

"It's great isn't it?" My husband of three years asked me. I stared at him as he finished unwrapping it.

Then he handed me the next one. "Hurry, open it."

I hesitated, I had honestly thought this was a new camera, but I was beginning to rethink that assumption (you know what happens when people assume, don't you?). It was a battery for the car.

Yep. That's what happens when you're married. It's not really a matter of marrying the right man. It's more a matter of marrying a MAN.

They just don't think the way women do. I could almost equate it to taking a child shopping for a friends birthday, they always buy what they want.

One time he did, honestly try... and that's the time I cried. I had been out with friends watching a monumentally sappy love story and when I got home I was filled with an overabundance of love for him.

"I love you!" I exclaimed passionately.

"I love you too." He said equally as fervent. "And I bought you something."

What a man, I thought to myself. Without hesitation I ripped the bag open. It was a pair of Arizona State capris (Sparky sitting neatly on the side of my behind). I lifted them excitedly into the air and unfolded them.

And unfolded.
And unfolded.
And unfolded.

"Honey!" I cried out, "what size do you think I am?"

His face went from giddy to guarded in .02 seconds.

Poor guy, he didn't understand why I burst into tears. He didn't understand why I would barely talk to him for the rest of the night. It wasn't his fault that I'm a woman and full of inexplicable, uncontrollable emotions.

As the years have gone past I've learned to deal with these 'presents' I just smile, pat his arm and take them down to my sewing machine.... hoping that at some point in our lives I don't actually fit into the clothes he buys me.

And to me, that's what wife-ing is all about. Learning to deal with the idiosyncrasies that make men what they are.... all logic.

My friends tell me I should just buy him things I want for his birthday. I can't do that, because in all honesty I know that he's trying his hardest and I sure do love the effort.

7.14.2010

If I Were a Rich Woman

Over the next several Wednesdays you'll be reading a new voice on my blog. May I present to you: Cannwin. And truly, she does deserve a round of applause. I would go so far as to call her my bloggy mentor. She gave me lots of tips and hints and words of encouragement as I entered the bloggy world. Funny thing: I've actually known Cannwin since high school, although I was completely clueless about her voracious appetite for the written word. Read more of her insight at The Great and Random Ramblings of Cannwin. Oh, and find me guest-blogging for her over there too. Enjoy!


I have a secret. It's not a very big one, but it's a secret none-the-less.

Do you want to know what it is?

Come closer and I'll whisper it to you....

I have no desire to be rich.

Are you surprised? Because I've known people who were.

In fact my dad doesn't believe me. He says that everyone wants to be rich, everyone wants more than what they have. Therefore since I'm human I must want more and since I want more, I must long to be wealthy.

Well, I don't want more. I really don't.

Okay... okay, that's not entirely true. I do want more free time, more family time, and more time to sleep in on Saturday mornings. I even want more fabric and more mod-podge! I'm not saying that I don't want things that require money. I'm just not someone who wants more. I actually want less.

I want less junk. I want less house. I want less floor space and less 'decorative items.' I want less collections and less light bulb guzzlers. I want less windows so I can have less window cleaner.

I just want simplicity.

To appease my father, however I have decided to make a list.

Here's what I want:

- Financial stability.
- Clothes on my back.
- A cozy little house with mature tree's in the back yard.
- No debt.
- Food for my family.
- Gas for my car.
- A husband who comes home at night.
- A bicycle that I look cute on.
- A library nearby.
- A family that doesn't yell at each other.
- A long life with a quick and painless end.

In my opinion my list does not require wealth. It requires work, but not wealth.
Is it possible that my father, and perhaps society in general, has confused wealth with work?

I think that life is malleable and capable of being molded into what we would make of it. I think that wealth or poverty can be a state of mind and not a state of finance.

And I know I don't care about being rich. I just care about being happy.

Hmm, maybe it's my dad who cares about being rich. ;)

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