All I Want for Christmas

I don't think I've blogged much about TTC lately, and trust me, it's a conscious effort to not drone on and on about it. I'm thinking I'm at the point where I'm focused on getting pregnant, but so tired with myself for not actually being pregnant. Is that even possible?

I'm staying away from my TTC forums, lurking on the bump.com, and failing at NOT reading anything baby related. Last night I wrapped most of the gifts for the kids in our families- folding those little baby shirts that I pored over for at least an hour to choose the right one (while at Culver City farmer's market, no less), realizing how tiny those little things are- and oh, how tiny the people they will be adorning are! I couldn't help but rub the soft material on my cheek, knowing and hoping that by this time next year I'll be folding my very own onesies and baby shirts. Yes, then I walked over to my secret drawer in my dresser, where I keep the only two things I've allowed myself to buy for our future baby- soft Carters onesies festooned with ducks. Never before have I felt an attraction to ducks- no, I'm more your giraffe/monkey/hippo kind of gal, but oh, these ducks. Tear your heart out with cuteness. On one we have a white background, with ducks all over, with yellow neckline and arm and leg holes. The other is white, with the same yellow neck and arm holes, but instead of the smattering of duckies, this one has just one duck, directly in the center of the chest- soft and yellow, with a wing you can flap up and down, made of the softest material known to man, almost like down feathers.

At least once a month I pull these onesies out, and lay them on my chest, pretending it's a real baby. When I'm around babies or toddlers, I just want to pull them toward me and hold them, breathe in the soft baby smell. Unfortunately, the babies/kids I'm around are getting big enough to not want to be held, and want to run and stomp with their cousins. It's so strange to me, I remember being at that age, having my cousins around to play with for holidays and celebrations, and now I'm watching a new generation do the same. Time really flies when you're not paying attention.

I really must put a stop to this searching for baby gear- for I already have our stroller picked out, which crib we'll buy is already ingrained in my brain, and just now, I have found an outfit Paul would adore:


Cute strikes again, with this Polar Bear ensemble by Bon Bebe, on sale for a mere SEVEN DOLLARS! I'd buy it myself, but Paul doesn't want us to jinx ourselves, which I can understand. Still it's SEVEN DOLLARS! See, I've seen cute things before (my cousin Lisa sent me a link ages ago to the dachshund themed outfits at one of those too cute for words baby stores, and although I wanted them all so badly- and they were also on sale, I resisted), but this- this polar bear set is a sign. The polar bear is Paul's favorite animal in the whole world. And part of me, the silly makes-no-sense part of me, thinks that if I had it, if somehow we owned something this cute and this perfect for us, that perhaps we'd get lucky, and get pregnant. I know, it's ridiculous.

So, as we pass into 2009 (!), I hope that new and better days are coming. I hope I'll spend most of 2009 pregnant, and that at this time next year, I'll have a polar bear wearing baby to bounce on my hip. You hear that, God? I'm putting in a request, please. If not God, can you hear me Santa? I've been especially good this year, minus the few random snarks I let come out here and there.

My Pantwiener

Somehow, someway, my pants arrived at the store with the outline of a cartoon penis (ala Superbad) on them. And after wearing them for weeks (not all at once), I only noticed today.

Getting Down to Business (repost)

As most of you know, I blogged as Mrs. Kiwi on Weddingbee. Today I received a comment on a post from over a year ago, written just two weeks after our wedding. I honestly had totally forgotten I'd written it, but when I went back to see what the comment ("thank you") was referring to, I felt kind of proud of myself, because I'm very glad I wrote (and read) this post below.

Mr. Kiwi and I have been married for two weeks now. People are still coming up to us and telling us how much they enjoyed the ceremony, and how beautiful the wedding was (pictures are coming, I swear). Other than that, nothing much has changed. Sure, there is the whole having to change my name over thing, and the “how’s married life?” questions to answer (wait: there is supposed to be a difference?), but that’s about it.

It’s strange because this is one of the hugest decisions you will likely make in your life. Despite what the celebrities are showing us, splitting up isn’t so easy after a marriage, and who goes into a marriage relying on the idea that divorce is always an option? I said it was strange because although it is such a huge step, the actual marriage part isn’t as different as I thought it’d be. The “Hot Thread” post from yesterday got me thinking about this little (big) thing called marriage.

Much like the poster, I also experienced some major what-ifs. Mr. Kiwi and I have been together for four years as well, with things between us more of a steady love, and less the “on-fire” type of love you seem to see all over the place. We’re getting married, right? Should we be more excited? Since day one of our reunion, I’ve known we’d end up married. Apparently, so did Mr. Kiwi. I’ve mentioned that we dated a decade ago, and throughout the years apart we grew up and became a little more stable, and wanted someone with the same ideals.

A year after we began dating we moved in together. Three months after that we got a dog. We were now part of a routine, and we had our own little family. Sure, the passionate times of the first year or so had faded a bit, but what replaced it? Growing up in a home without parents who loved each other led me to be scared of any relationship that wasn’t full of passionate embraces and breathless nights. I didn’t want to turn into a cold couple who didn’t exhibit any signs of romance, because surely that couldn’t be good for your life in the future, right?

Glancing around at various friends and family, I tried to see if there was a difference between the marrieds and the dating or soon to be marrieds. I couldn’t find the difference that I was scared of seeing, certain couples are more loving in public, and others a bit standoffish. Although it is possibly pointless to compare yourself and your BF/FI/Husband to other couples, it actually helped me. While it doesn’t help you to compare your coupleness to a previous romance (which I did), I think that we can learn a lot from what we’re surrounded by.

My rambling point is, don’t be afraid for your future. Just because you may have to decide that “we should probably have sex at some point this week”, your relationship isn’t in danger. Once the wedding has passed, once all the planning has finished and your lives are back to normal, you’ll see what you had been building all along. Most people say they’re marrying their best friend- think about it for a sec- isn’t that what you’d want for the rest of your life? Someone that knows you backwards and forwards, someone who will hold your hand during a scary movie, and console you when your frog has died? So you’re not steaming up the windows three times a day… realize that love evolves. For me, all I want is someone who will evolve with me.

A Few Observations

1.) The cartoonist for the "Marmaduke" cartoons is a terrible artist. It actually pains me to read the cartoons. Maybe it's my OCD talking, but can't the man take the extra second or two to color in the rest of the woman's shoe??

2.) This picture makes me laugh extremely hard. EXTREMELY.



3.) I have weird sex dreams involving people who aren't my husband. It's slightly off-putting, especially considering I have either a.) never met these people before, b.) haven't seen them in eons, c.) aren't even my people (You know, Paul has his people, I have mine?). I don't know if it's my conscience or not, but they always end at the "good" parts. When I wake up, I feel guilt!

4.) Some people are absolutely horrible. Someone broke into Paul's school, and stole the money boxes that were holding the money collected for the teacher's Christmas bonuses. The principal was apalled, yet for some reason decided to not let any parents give more money- so there will be NO BONUS for the teachers this year. Hopefully, and this may sound greedy, parents will contribute directly to the teachers. I think it's unfair that because the school was reckless with their collections containers, the teachers will not receive a bonus. SUCKS. Who would steal from a school? Heathens.

5.) I'd much rather bake than cook. Last night I made a Giada De Laurentis dish (and hated myself for it) for dinner, and wanted chocolate chip cookies instead.

6.) I like it when it rains, when I'm at home! At work the toes of my shoes get soaked and I freeze in the office, for some reason my boss likes it 60 degrees in here all the time. NO THANK YOU.

So far that's all I am pndering this morning!

I'm It!

Looks like I was Tagged by This Casita.


Here are the rules:

1. Link to the person that tagged you
2. Post the rules on your blog
3. Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself
4. Tag six random people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs
5. Let each random person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their website.
6. Let your tagger know when your entry is up. (hehehe, tagger)

Okay, six random non-important things/habits/quirks.

1.) I have a very real fear that someday Paul will leave. Either due to illness, choice or something else I can't fathom at the moment. I'm not quite sure why, Paul has never ever threatened to leave, if anything, he threatens to stay. Even though I grew up with both parents in the same house, I have an astonishingly strong fear of abandonment. Who knows why these things happen.

2.) I am absolutely terrified of clowns. All clowns. Ones from Outer Space, or perhaps Cirque Du Soleil , even the creepy one who blows up balloons on the 3rd Street Promenade. I don't think I ever liked them, to be honest, but once I read Stephen King's "It", my terror was cemented.

3.) For being the most non-athletic person, I am so competitive. I hate losing at games, and even take away the instructions for video games (I also don't read them, but that's just laziness on my part) so Paul won't read them. I'm horrible. Sadly, I tend to lose most of the time anyway, which vexes me to no end.

4.) I cry super easily. Like, sappy commercials make me cry. When a book ended in a way that was not pleasing to me, I cried. When I think about how much I love Paul, I cry. I cry at those ASPCA commercials every time. I always cry at Juno, Armageddon, Love Actually, the ending of a Charlie Brown Christmas, and many songs.

5.) For years I'd see a "ghost" standing by our bed at night. I can tell you exactly what it looked like: black shadow only- no discernible features, wearing a black hat, like a bowler hat. It all started back at Paul's old home he rented in, his roommate's sister spent the last few painful months there while dying of cancer. Strange things happened in that house from orbs in pics to a battery operated thing that moved on its own for a week- with no batteries in it. Just WEIRD THINGS. Anyway, Paul was given his roommate's bed when she got a new one. At night I'd see the figure standing beside my bed, and I'd just think it was Paul (?), so I'd go back to sleep. THEN, one night still at the old place, I got tired of wondering what Paul came over for and asked him, "Babe? Are you looking for something?" I actually asked it out loud. When I heard him snoring beside me, I freaked out- pushed off the dresser next to the bed and slammed into Paul, shaking and whimpering. I couldn't fall back to sleep. So now speed ahead to us moving into our apartment... it's still happening, just sporadically. One night I actually got so scared I hid under the covers, shaking and sobbing. Just sobbing my eyes out. It was the weirdest thing. The last time it happened, I saw the face of the "ghost". No longer black, it was all white- including the hair, and it had the angriest face I have EVER seen. We finally got a new bed though, and I think it's a good sign that "ghostie" hasn't appeared since then.

6.) I have recently started biting my nails like mad. It was a habit I had given up, but now it's back! Ugh, I disgust myself.

Now, I'll add the rest of the tagging later, I have to go to bed!

Little Things

I'm a little bummed today. Our Disneyland passports are expiring next Friday, and we won't be able to go by then, and can't see spending the money on it until we pay off our Hawaii vacation (which was technically not too expensive, just the plane bill), which we put on credit. Yes, foolish, but we had rationalized our spending on that one vacation for many reasons I won't list here. One of them is not extending our passport until it's paid off. Hopefully I'll get a year-end bonus and I can apply that to the credit card, which will drastically cut down the bill.

Anyway, I'm not sad because we won't renew our passport before the year is up, I can understand why. I'm sad because Christmas is my favorite holiday, and spending one day of the holiday season at my favorite place is something I look forward to every year. It's when I get an ornament for our tree. We have years of ornaments from Disneyland, from the proposal ornament to our wedding ornament and this will be the first year I wasn't able to get one. So I'm not even really that sad about not going to Disneyland for Christmas (even though it's absolutely MAGICAL), and even though it would have been possible, if Paul would take a day off (like he did last year!). No, I'm just wishing Paul hadn't promised me we'd come back and get an ornament for our tree before the year ended, because I would have grabbed one while we were there.

I'm not from family with a lot of traditions, and that's why I cling to the Disneyland ornament tradition. I think about our children placing our fragile ornaments on their trees when we're gone, I think of our kids fighting over which ornament they get to hang when they're young. I can picture our daughter, studying the "Just Married Ornament" hoping for her own someday, and well... I was kind of hoping to go back and get one that states it's the "Our First Year Married" ornament. Oh well, I guess I'll have to work extra hard to pay off that bill, and hope that it's not too long before we're back.

Haven Kimmel

I want to be Haven Kimmel when I grow up. I was already a fan of her first collection of essays about her life: A Girl Named Zippy that when I found she had written a follow up called "She Got Up Off The Couch" I got right on that and started reading.

Some of what she says is just hilarious, heartbreaking and pensive. There is one paragraph in particular I MUST blog about. She's talking about her brother, a decade older than she.

"... I loved him, loved him, a little girl is helpless against her love for a brother. ... From a distance he seemed both cold and receding, a man whose most familiar feature was his back as he walked away as fast as he could. But there are pictures of him, many of them, holding me as a baby, standing with me as a little girl, and the eye of the camera sees what nearly everyone but Elaine (his wife) missed: a tenderness so wounded it had grown ferocious and fixed as the evening star. Really, I barely knew him. When our family's darkest days arrived he could not be reached, he demanded to be left alone, he wanted no part of it, and for years I believed he hated us. I thought he simply wandered into the wrong family in the first place, like a toddler at a strange picnic who grew into the handomest of princes but remained bound by name and history to the peasants who lured him with potato salad and a tricycle."

So many parts of her novel make me cry with laughter, cry with sadness, and this last part, just made me feel like there was someone out there who had the same brother I did.