Certainity. A Luxury We Can No Longer Afford.

This has been reposted from my American Mom in London blog, because yes, it's just that important to me.

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Shortly following the start of the worldwide economic meltdown, Mike turned to me one morning and asked, "But how does all this affect us?"

("Us" being folks with no immediate ties to the banking industry going about their daily lives.)

At the time, life around us hadn't changed much...

The London's streets were littered with just as many tourists as the day before. The shop lines on Kensington and Oxford Street were just as atrocious as ever, and the previous day our grocery store had run out of fresh bread before I could get there. It was business as usual.

Furthermore, we're decades away from retirement, well-educated, and completely debt-free. I assured Mike that we really don't need to worry, but his question still struck me as the "Gee, what else can go wrong?" of sitcom folly...

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What I'm about to tell you has been wallowing in the pit of my stomach and consuming my every thought.

I've avoiding talking about it until now, even with my family, because it's too difficult. Too complicated. Too personal.

When I started sobbing at Mass last weekend... while on the bus... and standing in line at the post office... and basically, any moment when I get five seconds to myself, I figured it was time to let it out.

So here, goes...

Our visas expire in 27 days and Mike's contract still hasn't been renewed.

Note, this is not to say that it wasn't renewed. Only that it hasn't, and his company seems to be in no rush. (Such the British way...)

On the other hand, the company has voiced on several occasions that it would LOVE to keep him on staff. His co-workers love him and are shocked that he hasn't been scooped up yet. However, the funding for the next project hasn't been secured and unless it happens within in the next four weeks, they can't...

Thank you, worldwide economic meltdown.

Everything could still change on a dime... er, ten pence, but for now, Mike has started job hunting again and when our visas expire, we'll have no choice but to move back-- uninsured, jobless, and homeless. (i.e. hobos)

This may come as a shock to most of our friends and family.

Why the hell would we turn our lives upside down, drain our bank accounts, sell our stuff, our home, and our car, and start all over for essentially six months of employment?

The answer is simple. I love my husband and it's great job. Not to mention, it's was an opportunity that we just couldn't pass up.

When he accepted the position, it was with the tacit understanding that it would be his for as long as he wanted it. We'd have a chance to see Europe, live abroad for a while, and build back our savings.

Of course, at the time, who could have foreseen the collapse of every single financial market in the world. (Certainly not the people "in charge"...)

We were just getting settled-- creating routines, desensitizing ourselves to the banking system, making wonderful new friends...

We very much want to stay, especially after everything we went through to get here. (Those of you closest to us, you know the stories. No need to rehash them here...)

As difficult as it has been to "adjust", the thought of moving overseas again, so soon and so suddenly, is exactly why I haven't slept in over three weeks.

Please don't tell me "It's going to be okay" or "We'll be fine". I won't be able to stand it. Not yet.

Politics for Dinner

Every night, my husband comes home with a new rant about the elections... usually something said on FoxNews, news about the candidates' stances on the war or national debt, etc.

He claims to only read this stuff while he's waiting for things to load at work...

However, judging from the amount of email he sends me each day, I think he secretly spends his entire day trolling the Internet for video clips or memorizing facts and figures to present over dinner.

I listen. We discuss. We usually agree and then, I change the subject... except he's not done yet...

He goes on, getting louder and louder and LOUDER still, to the point where he is shouting and scaring our child.

Our son actually burst into tears last week because he thought Mommy and Daddy where fighting. We weren't even though my husband was following me around the house shouting and I did tell him to "shut the hell up already".

If you must know, my husband and I claim to be disenchanted Republicans. We both agree with several of the key issues that the Republican party stands for... or at least, what they used to stand for. However, we also disagree with some big ones, too.

(I'm not interested in starting a debate, so won't bother to say which issues...)

The funny thing is I don't recall my husband being this passionate about politics during the last Presidential election. Nope, nope. We had to move OUT OF THE COUNTRY and ACROSS THE OCEAN for that to happen.

Of course, this time four years ago, I was listening to similar rants from my best friend (then roommate).

She also liked to quote FoxNews every night when she came home from work except it was always in agreement, rather than disgust... (smirk)

Blogging on Boring British Bureaucracy

I've avoiding blogging about the process of acquiring our dependent visas for the UK because I imagine it would be as stressful and tedious to read as it is to endure...

First and foremost, I was super annoyed that Hubby spent all of his time designating “foster homes” for his Star Wars toys and thirty-year-old Legos instead of submitting the paperwork for our dependent visas. Which, by the way, was something we were supposed to have done before we booked our flights to London… Oops!

I mean, really… wasn’t it enough for me to get us packed, get the house on the market, and get our affairs in order? Dealing with the paperwork to get us over there was basically his ONLY task!

But, as I am constantly reminded, "There's nothing you can do about that now. You just need to deal with it..." (Umm, still mad. grrr...)

With Hubby's work visa having been secured by his office, I figured, my son and I could simply go over (undetected) as tourist and apply for our dependent visas once we go there... WRONG!

Earlier this week, I received a personal call from the BRITISH EMBASSY…

…and no, it was NOT as high-profile and important as it sounds.

Hubby had contacted the embassy on our behalf and a representative was merely calling to follow up. She was very polite, and more importantly… helpful.

She also assured me that my "little plan" was (insert prim British accent here) “absolutely not allowed. No, no, no. That is… FORBIDDEN”.

Apparently, a few months ago there was a policy change in which foreigners are not allowed to enter into the UK unless they have a guaranteed return ticket OUT of the UK. I imagine holding cells and all the glamour of being DEPORTED....

Well then. I suppose I’ll just go ahead and rebook our flights now...

Okay, so the process isn't actually not THAT terrible. There are actually some useful websites which I was already using, so at least I was on the right track...

The hard part is handing over all of our original -- not photocopies and not even certified photocopies, but our ORIGINAL birth certificates, marriage license, and passports to a faceless entity with little to no reassurance of their timely return (if at all...)

I also have to provide three months worth of bank statements, which I assume is meant to prove we're not paupers coming to mooch their national health care or some such.

Once it's all sent, I wait-- wondering if I dotted all of the Is and crossed all of the Ts and hoping that we get approved.

Until that happens, my son and I will continue to live with my parents, to their utter joy and satisfaction...

INDEFINITELY.

Boo.

Why was this such a good idea, again?

Did you know that two-year-olds need passports?

Yeah... It's one of those things that makes perfect sense.

I mean, they are required to have their very own pricey seat on the plane. They stand in the same lines, go through the same security clearances, and must keep their liquids to 3.5 onces and within a Ziplock Brand baggie...

It stands to reason that they would be required to provide the appropriate documentation... when you think of it.

But, WHO HAS TIME TO THINK when your husband starts working in LONDON in 3 weeks and your house in DALLAS, TEXAS still needs to be packed, cleaned, and sold...

Meanwhile the aforementioned two-year-old is unfolding the laundry (as I am folding it) and the aforementioned husband seriously wants to keep all of his comic books, Tonka trunks, Legos, and Star Wars toys from his childhood...

Seriously?

GAHHHHH!

Hi, Internet. Have you missed me? I've missed me...

I know I haven't been around much... you know, commenting and posting like usual. It's because I've been that crazy, stressed out, screaming woman since this insanity all began.

Oh, did I mentioned that we have NO IDEA where we will be living and therefore no idea where to ship our stuff in London, and my mother-in-law wants to come "help" me pack...

I've cried more in the past two days than I had in the past ten years.

Why was this such a good idea, again?

We interrupt this regular suburban life to bring you....

So, I've done a lot of whining (and not much else around here) this past week, but only because I couldn't write about all the stuff that's really been happening...

Stuff that I was sitting on because things weren't quite finalized until now, but I've been incredibly pre-occupied with nonetheless...

Stuff that, as much as I really, really, really wanted to blog about it, I just didn't think I should until I had a chance to tell my "real life" peeps (because you know how I am about that) and I didn't want to tell anyone until things were set and well...

Okay, here goes...

Hubby just accepted a job in London and we're moving!!!

(Yeah! I know, right?)

Oh my goodness, where to begin?

First of all, it's a job with a visual effects company that's been courting Hubby for a while. They would call and send him e-mails every so often to see how he's doing... see if he wanted to pick up everything, hop "across the pond", and take a job with them...

Of course, he was always gainfully employed at the time, not to mention comfortably well established with a house, two cars, friends and family in the Dallas 'burbs.

Each time they contacted him, we would throw our heads back and laugh, saying, "Oh ha-ha, wouldn't it be CRAZY and RIDICULOUS and FUN to just pick up and live in London for a while" ...and never mean it.

Well, when they found out Hubby was on the market again, they did not hesitate in grabbing him up quickly. They gave us about a day to consider their offer, but we had already made up our minds at that point...

High tea and the Queen, it is!

I know it’s a little nuts, but it’s simply an opportunity he just could NOT pass up. Not only will he be doing the work that he’s always wanted, this new position will give him a chance to work with world-class artists and advance in his field… and not to mention a fabulous ADVENTURE for our family.

He doesn't start work until his visa clears, which should take about a month. My son and I plan to follow as soon as the house sells.

In the meantime, we're in the process of downsizing and figuring out what to take/store/sell. Not an easy process as Hubby and I both like to hoard and are apparently highly sentimental about stuff the other one views as junk... (Oops, did I just type that?)

As you can imagine, our house looks like a giant rummage sale at the moment, and their hasn't been a decent meal cooked since this all went down. I'm not even sure if my son has been taking his daily Flintstones vitamin or wearing matching socks anymore.

It's as if wild and irresponsible people suddenly took over the running of my household.

Spreading the News...

Thank you for all of your words of encouragement and support in response to my last post! You guys are the best-est Internet bloggy friends ever.

Not a lot of people in my "real" life know that I write this blog. I like it that way, since they make good blog fodder and I can talk smack about them all I want.

Since there are a few close friends who know about, and to my shock, actually read my blog (Hi, guys!), I jotted a quick note apprising them of the situation before I posted the other day...

I'm not clear on what the proper etiquette is in this type of situation, but I'm sure first hearing about your friend's firing on his wife's blog (as opposed to hearing it directly) is a bit off-putting.

It's not exactly the kind of news you gleefully shout from the rooftops. On the other hand, it's also not the kind of news you "hide and don't tell anyone about" either, only to have it gossiped behind your back. That makes it seem like you're embarrassed by it, which we aren't.

It felt too awkward to personally call and tell everyone about it. Plus neither of us was in the mood to rehash the story over and over again, so I opted to send a quick and simple e-mail.

Just as crass, perhaps? Oh well.

I say that it is was a "quick note," but it really wasn't. I actually thought long and hard about how exactly to word it. I mean, we want our friends to know what's going on, but in a way that didn't beg for forced sympathy or drama. (Besides, I'm more comfortable with sarcasm and jabs anyway.)

We know a couple that sends "poor us" e-mails for every little thing and I'm sorry, but it is uh-nnoy-ing. We didn't to be those people, but we also don't want to hide the truth either. Your husband being fired when you're a SAHM does suck A LOT and, there's no way to sugar-coat and cherry-top that.

After a night of letting things marinate (and allowing the initial shock to wear off), we were actually okay with it by the time I was ready to send my note. Hubby took some time to process and lick his wounds, but he woke up early the next day and started updating his resume, filing unemployment, and researching companies. (whew-hew!) Turns out he has a lot of great contacts in his industry and some reliable leads, so we're really excited about the opportunities this opens up.

As for our son, he is absolutely THRILLED to have not one, but TWO stay-at-home parents. Good. Hopefully, he won't notice when we have to cut Mom's Day Out and Gymboree out of his schedule...

It took a few tries to write that e-mail to our friends, but I eventually come up with something light-hearted, to the point, and funny... or at least I thought so. Hopefully, they did too.

Their responses and phone calls were all very supportive and encouraging as well. They're the best, too!

Yesterday

When I heard my cell phone ring, I figured it was just my husband checking on us. It was around one in the afternoon, so he must have just finished his lunch, just as we were finishing up ours. So, my hands were full at that moment.

When he called again two minutes later, I thought he was just being a pain. Nothing could have prepared me for what he has to say when I picked up...

"I've just been fired."

Those words lingered in the digital eather as my world spun out of control. Just a little.

Just that morning I razzed him for running late to work... again. We talked about being home for dinner and buying some more memory for our computers. Two days before, we were talking to our best friends about their upcoming wedding in Santorini and what we were planning to wear to it. We also had that same worn-out debate about buying a new house- should we, shouldn't we.

I had to mail one last thank you card for a belated birthday gift to our son. I planned to take him to pick out his very own potty chair after his nap. I just took him to get yet another over-priced haircut at that kiddie salon in anticipation of doing his two-year-old portraits this week. Hubby and I have reservations at a swanky new restaurant this coming weekend. My parents are baby-sitting.

These were just a few of the things that became a blur right then and there, as I held my breath and patiently waited for Huddy to tell me their reasoning. Not that they are legally required to provide one, and they didn't.

None of this made any sense. It seems that spite of killing himself (figuratively) to make their ridiculous deadlines, all sorts of glowing praise from immediate co-workers, and a generally cheerful attitude, they let him go with little more explanation than, "Eh, we just felt like it." (paraphrased)

Once my son had gone down for his nap, I was stunned by the horrible sinking feeling. I wanted to cry, but didn't, knowing it just wouldn't do any good. Come to think if it, I really didn't know what I was supposed to do.

Call our financial planner. Don't call our financial planner. Call my parents. No, don't call my parents. They'll just ask if we want to move in with them. Definitely, don't call the 'rents right now.... I settled on eating an entire bag of cookies leftover from my son's huge birthday bash. Oh God! the bill for his huge birthday bash?! I need more cookies...

Before Your Time

Over the weekend, I received some terrible news.

Our "Moms Day Out" sitter's husband had suffered a severe heart attack while on a sales call several hours away from home. Although this was his second heart attack and he had recently undergone heart surgery for the first, he was expected to make it... if barely. There was still hope.

There were a few more e-mail updates since then, but the last one from today simply read:

More doctors were called in to meet with Mrs. H and her daughter, and told her that nothing else can be done for Mr. H.

Please pray for Mrs. H and her family for the proper guidance at this difficult time...

He is only 52 and had at lot more life ahead of him.

The last time I talked to Mrs. H, she said her husband was recovering well, but anxious to get back to work. His doctors, his wife, and even his company had advised him to take more time to rest and recuperate, but he couldn't be convinced. He was "bored" working from home and ready to get back on the road...

Apparently, this was his first (and sadly last) sales call.

Somehow, there's a bigger life lesson to be had here, but this news hit me in a very personal way. It just happened to come on the eve of the completion of my husband's big project at work...

Yes, the same big project that started so many weeks ago and kept him away on Valentine's, but allows us to host the first annual toddler golf invitational/art exhibit. The one that has regularly kept him at the office as late as 5 am only to summon him back at 9, has consumed every single weekend, and has made him a stranger to his own son.

The project is supposedly over now, but it's left me wondering about my responsibility as a wife in this situation. In the past six weeks, I've witnessed my husband's complexion ashen and his resilience weaken as he's given up eating, sleeping, and his family for this project.

He's nodded off in the middle of meals (the few times he's been home for one) and rushed off soon after because the office called with another "emergency" that had to be fixed "right now"....

May I remind you that he works in computer graphics for commercials and film, and NOT saving lives.... NOTHING in his world can possibly be that urgent, but whatever.

As much as he blames the company for putting these demands on him, he's totally complicit. What it comes down to is that he's simply not willing to push back, or for some reason, feels that he can't...

He loves his job for all the reasons everyone should and I support him in all of his ambitions. However, when neither he nor his company is willing to make reasonable demands of his time (and ours), I think it's MY job to set limits around his basic needs of food, sleep, and love, and our needs as a family.

What can I say? I don't play the quiet, long-suffering wife (a.k.a. doormat) very well. When it comes to my husband, father of my child, man I love, barely living on 2 hours of sleep every night and being pushed further, I'm going to balk and demand that he set boundaries with his office...

I won't lie. There's been a lot of fighting about this and at one point he said he felt like he was "being pulled in two different directions", which was certainly not my intention. In fact, that's the furtherest from it.

"It's just a job," he kept saying all along. "It will never be as important as my family. This is just temporary."

I really do believe that he'd rather be home with us, but this is certainly not temporary. He was like this when I met him, and he will be like this for the rest of his life. I knew when I married him that his workaholic tenancies were part of the deal. I just don't know how to be both a "supportive" and "loving" wife to someone who can't be suppressed.

When I told my husband about Mr. H and the circumstances around his forthcoming passing, he didn't take it well either. Hopefully, it will hit home.

This is why men aren't in charge of baby showers...

I hosted another second baby/ "it's a girl" shower for a friend this afternoon. I know that in some circles it's considered gauche to even consider throwing a shower for a second baby, but I disagree.

Every baby should be celebrated, and more importantly, every mommy. I don't care if it's your first, second, or seventh. There comes a time in every pregnancy when the excitement fades into disgust. You feel tired, puffy, and unwieldy, and all you can think about is the labor to come...

Well, that my friends, is when I will offer to bring the excitement back in the form of GIFTS and party games! Lots of adorable, cute little gifts that your friends and loved ones will "ooooh" and "ahhh" over with you.

This baby shower was a lot more low-key event than the last one I threw. Come to think of it...this friend is a lot more low-key than the last one, too.

There were only six guests as opposed to forty, and I had it at a restaurant instead of at my home. We omitted party games and just hung out. Just the girls, on a lovely Saturday morning, talking about girl things!

I arrived early to decorate our table in the "hot pink and chocolate brown" theme I had chosen for my friend. There were balloons and party favors, boxed and tied with ribbon and used as the place settings.

I wish I had some photos to post, but this is what happened this morning...

Hubby: Is there anything I can do to help you get ready for the party?

Me: Yeah, could you put the camera in the car? Just in the backseat with the gift and party supplies. I have some more stuff to pick up on the way...

Hubby: Okay!

Me: Thanks!

Forty minutes later, calling home...

Me: Hi. Where did you put the camera?

Hubby: OHHHHHHH Crap!

Me: Umm, that was the ONLY thing I asked you to do today?

Hubby: I know, but I thought you needed your phone charger, too. So I grabbed that, put it in the car, and forgot all about the camera.

Me: Um, but I asked for the camera, not the phone charger...

Hubby: I know.

Me: Nice.

Mickey-D's or Chuck E Cheese

The telephone rang

Hubs cancels on us again
"...working late...blah...blah..."

The same old story
"Really? On Valentine's day?
...at the last minute?"

It's party of two
Mickey-D's or Chuck E Cheese?
Just you and me, son.

Oh, so romantic.
Crawling in the hamster maze
Just me and you, son.

Yes, my son and I spent Valentine's evening at McDonald's instead of home as a family, as originally promised to us... er, planned.

What's the point of cooking a fabulous meal filled with love when I'm only going to eat it (and/or beg my son to eat it), then clean up afterwards alone... again?

My son had a blast running around and even did a happy dance.

In fact, it was the CUTEST dance ever. He wouldn't let me get a video of it, so you'll just have to take my word of it. It was seriously so adorable.

There's probably a few of you following my recent post turned debate/discussion on FussyPants' League of Extraordinary Wives regarding this, but for those of you that aren't, here's the back story:

My husband's long hours, late nights, and weekends at the office have become the "norm" recently, leaving me with 100% of the parenting, 100% of the housework, 0% of his time and 0% help. I'm talking 100 hour work weeks, not home at 9 instead of 7, people. I've tried to be understanding. I've tried to make the best of it, but it's like being a single parent and it's killing me.

Something had to give. Why not my standards for proper nutrition?

There. Done venting.

For more Haiku Friday, check out A Mommy Story and Playgroups are No Place for Children.

Bedtime Snack?

I was getting ready for bed last night when I felt my husband's hand graze my left boob. Fully prepared to gave him a look, I pulled my shirt over my head and found him holding up a Cheerio. Apparently, it had been hanging out in my bra all day and was still stuck on me...

Okay, I have my suspicions about how is got there. I just have no idea how I didn't notice it... ALL DAY!

...and who says being a mom isn't HOT?!

This post is dedicated to my fellow Weekend Blog Hoppers, because nothings says "oh yeah, we're parents" like finding Cheerios in your cleavage... Cheers!

Toddler Obsession

Recently, I've noticed articles about "toddler obsessions" popping up everywhere, almost like someone is trying to warn me of something...

Tonight, we went out for dinner and guess what my boy insisted on taking along with him...

The headset from my "working from home" days... and today, he's obsessed with it. It barely works thanks to being dragged, chewed, thrown, and stepped on, but my son seems to love it and who am I to argue with that.

He even insisted on wearing it properly once we were seated at our table. Then, he proceeded to eat all of his dinner and even some of mine without once...

screaming...

crying...

climbing out of his chair...

or provoking the slightest glance from fellow patrons, much less the usual obnoxious stares...

It's all about picking your battles. Sometime you may even get a win-win!

Here, you'll need this latte...

While we were in college, a friend and fellow classmate of mine decided that being a barista was more fun than being a chemistry major and dropped out of school. Really, who can blame him?

I was completely supportive since it meant free, no-strings attached caramel soy lattes every single day just for hanging out with him or dropping by between classes.

He was a smart guy (hence majoring in chemistry...) and ambitious in his own way (in spite of the dropping out...), so it didn't take long for him to be promoted to shift lead, then store manager. His work hours were typical of those of the service industry, which is to say unusual and random at best. In the meantime, I graduated and joined the 9-to-5 corporate world.

He would call me at work in the middle of the week to ask if I had the afternoon off, "'cuz we needed a fourth for golf and everyone else is working". I found it rather amusing that he would actually be disappointed/surprised when I said, "umm, no" and "yeah, imagine that..."

He was good for a laugh, until COFFEE took over his life... Over happy hour, he would regale us with long and tedious work stories that ended with zingers like "...and so we gave him DECAF instead!" or "... and we gave her FAIR TRADE, instead of Christmas Blend and she never even noticed!"

The rest of us, on the edge of nodding off, would smile or give a courtesy laugh, then change the subject immediately. As the stories grew longer our attention span got shorter and we decided to STOP inviting him out with us- free lattes or not. No one likes a boring story teller.

Oh yeah, and it was about this time that he also started spreading vicious rumors about me... but, that's a story for another day.

Lately, whenever I step out of my "SAHM world" of playdates, Gymboree, and train exhibits, I feel a little karma sneaking up on me. I see the way single folks and childless couples roll their eyes or exchange meaningful glances when I start telling a story about "what my son did at play group on Friday..." or that "cute thing he did right before we left the house..." Suddenly, I feel like the boring one and they're the ones looking for an exit or trying to change the subject.

While I'm not shy about the fact that I have a child, it's not as if I only talk about my child. I mean, I watch my fair share of TV. I read books and travel. I enjoy brunch and don't even mind being the one to cook it. I'm a great listener and I'd love to hear all about you, too, but as soon as I mention anything about my day as a mom that STAYS HOME (gasp!), I can all but feel the brand being burned into my side.

Oh, she's one of those MOMS.... those boooooooring moms that talks about her KID! Ewww....

Usually, I could care less about what other people think of me, but it so happens that I will be attending a wedding in a few weeks. It's another friend from college that's getting married (one that didn't drop out to be a barista)... and many of my old drinking buddies, ex-roommates, and classmates will surely be there, too.

I've been catching up on my current events, gossip, and pop culture trivia in anticipation, but I'm sure all they'll want to talk about is what I've been doing with my MBA lately. Yeah, about that...

Or, that time when we all got so drunk and...

Oops! Well, I guess that's also another story for another time, too... Ahem. Ahem. Ahem.

Now, with More In-Law Bashing

In the middle of getting a facial this past weekend, the aesthtician started chit-chatting with me about the holidays... Not cool. I don't know about you, but I prefer to zone out, relax, and NOT make small talk during my rare spa visits..

She asked me about my Thanksgiving plans and when I rolled my eyes and said that we'll be heading to my in-laws, she stopped what she was doing to my face and asked point blank, "well, what's wrong with being with your in-laws?"

Are you KIDDING me? I came here to RELAX and you want me to talk about my IN-LAWS...ugh!

I made some pithy remark and ended the conversation right then and there... and continued to zone out.

Frankly, there is no simple answer to that question, or at least not one that I was willing to share at that particular moment. I'm sure I could have enumerated several examples of what is "wrong" with them, but that would have quickly become tedious and boring... and not to mention, counterproductive to booking a "pre-holiday" spa appointment in the first place.

The truth is there really isn't anything wrong with my in-laws. As I've mentioned here before, they're well-intentioned and good people who just happen to drive us nuts. They live their life differently than we do and are prone to being unreasonable and insensitive at times, but otherwise they're all right folks.

In fact, I would even go as far as to say that in another world, another time, another life, my mother-in-law and I probably could have been friends... provided we didn't have to share any of our holidays or vacations together... just maybe. Unfortunately, in this world, this time, and this life, we do and all the stress that that entails is the #1 source of our friction. The rest of the year, the pressure is off and we're back to our tenuous, but workable relationship.

I have to keep this in mind especially when she tells me I'm being "inflexible" when we attempt to plan our THREE HOUR car trip to see THEM at THEIR HOUSE around our son's afternoon nap. I'm still fuming about that, in case you haven't noticed...

The irony is that my mother-in-law has a very similar relationship with her mother-in-law, Grandma D, who is as sharp as a tack in her late 90s and isn't going anywhere anytime soon. I love Grandma D, by the way. She's totally racist (in the way that only old people can get away with) and has an opinion on everything. It's awesome!

Based on the comments my mother-in-law makes when she thinks no one is listening and the scant details I've gotten from Hubby, Grandma D never really thought my mother-in-law was good enough for her son, has always been critical, and doted more on her other child's family. Sounds familiar, if you ask me?

My mother-in-law swore that when she had her own daughters-in-law, things would be much better. She has three and no, they aren't. In fact, the similarities are striking... right down to the blatant favoritism and short-sightedness.

Raising a son of my own, I wonder if this is a vicious cycle and if one day, my son will bring a girl home who clearly is not good enough for him. Will it crush me to no longer be the "only woman" in his life? Will I compete for his time and guilt them into spending holidays with us? How can I keep my heart from breaking when he tell me that they are going to her parents and it'll be another holiday before I can see him again?

Today, I'm grateful that that day isn't today! That my son is still a toddler and all mine... even if occasionally I'm tempted to sell him to gypsies. The years will fly by, but I will cherish every single one that I will get to spend with him.

One day (in the far, far future) when he moves away and has a family of his own, I'll try to be grateful for all the holidays that I will get to spend with them rather than resentful of the ones that I don't. I'll try to remember what it was that drove me nuts about Hubby's family and try not to perpetuate the madness.

In the meantime, I'll just have to keep that mother-in-law smack talkin' to a minimum, 'cuz payback is a bitch...

Daily Thanks: Love Like Wine and Cheese

Before we could get married in the Catholic Church, my husband and I were required to participate in Pre-Cana. It's akin to the premarital counseling other churches require and the approach varies by parish and by dioceses. While our best friends recently had to meet with a sponsor (mentor) couple, we were required to go on a weekend retreat focused on marriage.

On the retreat, we were given notebooks and asked to write down our answers to a series of questions like "what does the sacrament of marriage mean to you?" and "what are the obstacles that might occur in our achieving true intimacy?" My husband and I were supposed to exchange notebooks several times over the weekend and share our answers with one another.

At the time, I felt that it was completely unnecessary and a waste of time for us, especially since the most of the issues covered were things we had already discussed in depth ages ago. Besides, didn't they realize I had a wedding to plan? A seminar on how to deal with planning a sit-down dinner reception for 250 with meddlesome in-laws and a crazy mother would have been better preparation, as far as I was concerned.

I was cleaning our study last week, when I found these notebooks among binders of old bank statements and our tax papers from 2005. I stopped what I was doing and sat down to read every page.

I'm generally not a weepy person, but I found myself quite moved by the words we wrote to one another not so long ago. A lot has changed since two became one, then became three. My husband lost his previous job and I gave up my career to stay home, but our words to one another are truer today than when they were written then.

Recently, I was at dinner with a girlfriend who is about to celebrate her 15th wedding anniversary. She confided in me some of the ebbs and flows her marriage has endured over the years, but how she was eagerly anticipating their next phase together. This idea that a love can change, yet stay the same, touched me as well. It spoke volumes for how I felt that day re-reading our words to one another written before we had any idea what was coming next.

I'm grateful from my husband and for the feelings which may have changed, but only because they have gotten better with age.

What goes around...

For all of my obsessive hand washing and sleeping when the kid sleeps, I still got what he has, basically a runny nose and soar throat with a bout of gastrointestinal "goodness" (and by goodness, I mean badness).

What is worse than tending after a sick kid? Umm, that would be having to do it when you're feeling extra-crumby too.

You can see how I would be hard-pressed to find the silver lining in all this... much less, muster a little gratitude. Well, 30 days of thanks you were promised and 30 days of thanks, you shall have... even if a couple of the days went a bit wonky.

Today, my husband came home early. I didn't ask him to. I hadn't even called to complain about my day today. Yes, I was THAT out of it. Nothing had gone wrong at work. He just finished his project early and decided to get a jump on rush-hour traffic. I guess he just knew we needed him more at home. THANK YOU, GOD!

Back to Reality

We still had a few hours before we were supposed to leave Charleston, and my friends and I were trying to soak up all that we could of the city. We were strolling through one of the beautiful downtown neighborhoods, when I realized that I hadn't heard from my family in a while...

I called home and my husband informed me in a very grave voice that he had some good news and some bad news for me... and my heart stopped.

"That maker tip our son bit off and you thought he swallowed... Well, we found it on the floor."

"Okay. What's the bad news? What happened?" I fretfully asked as my throat tightened.

So I hadn't realized that toddlers especially like bitting the tips off of markers until my son did it last week. It was a Crayola marker- washable and "nontoxic", but I still called Poison Control. They told me there was absolutely nothing to worry about unless he had an allergic reaction. He seemed fine at the time and I completely forgot about it until my husband mentioned it over the phone.

He paused for effect and I yelled, "Tell me the bad news, NOW" .

In the faction of a window of a second that it took for my husband to respond, this is was was racing through my mind?

What if the marker irritated the lining of his tiny stomach and he was having cramps? What if he fell and hit his head? Can toddlers get concussions? Maybe he had a seizure? I just heard about really young kids having unexplained seizures. My sister used to have seizures. What if it's genetic? Did he break his arm? his leg? his spine? Maybe he had an allergic reaction to something else and they were racing to the hospital. Were they in a car accident on the way? Did he choke on a grape? I warned everyone to cut them in half! Cut the stupid grapes in half! OMG! OMG! OMG!

My husband took a deep breath and said, "Our son ripped all the paper off a green crayon..."

"AND?!!!"

"Nothing. That's it. I thought you'd get a kick out off that."

"Do NOT tell me you have 'bad news' about MY son while I am HUNDREDS of miles away from him and have it be something that RETARDED."

"Oh, I just thought you'd laugh. It's pretty funny."

"No, that's just a day in the life, man. You had me thinking he was in the hospital, or in a cast, or something. You SCARED me!!!"

"oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"I can't even talk to you right now."

As I hung up on him, all of my overprotective mommy feelings came back in a flood and suddenly I missed my family more than I loved this charming place and this dreamy time away from it all. In being transported to a new place, I managed to recapture an old frame of mind- the liveliness of my (long forgotten) bachelorette days...

The past few days were all about hanging out with the girls, getting dressed up and going out every night, sipping cocktails in toppley glassware, eating in restaurants that didn't have highchairs, and shopping without rushing to get home in time for naps. One by one, each of my cares melted away and I no longer worried about how a new purchase would fit into the household budget, but rather when I'd get to wear it out... again.

In Charleston, I wasn't someone's wife or mommy. No one complimented me on "how well my son ate his veggies", only on my cute shoes. I was just me.

My mind snapped back to reality quickly after that phone call. My reality. I may have stolen some time to laugh, sip wine, and relax with my girlfriends, but I'm not carefree anymore. Not really. I am a wife and a mom. I plan. I worry. I nurture. I worry. I care. I worry.

My flight didn't depart for another two hours, but that's when my vacation actually ended.

Driving over the Ashley River at sunset. Just breathtaking and a little bittersweet. Bye-bye, Charleston

October 16th!

Today is our wedding anniversary.

The months of planning leading up to our wedding were just plain horrible. There was no wedding coordinator. Just me, dealing with every tedious thing and trying to keep BOTH moms at bay. I must have threatened to run off to Vegas hundreds of times, but didn't because my husband's one request was that we share this day with our family and friends. Grrr.

In spite of the drama... and the outbursts... and the crippled feelings along the way, our wedding day turned out to be absolutely gorgeous!

We had a beautiful Catholic ceremony, an awesome reception that people still talk about today, and a great photographer capturing every moment of it.

The first time I saw the photos from our wedding, they took my breath away. There's no other way to describe it. They were amazing, but I still only saw everything that wasn't right with the day-- the misspelling on the program that five people didn't catch, that weird look on somebody's face, my fat arms...

Oh, and that awkward, humiliating speech that my mom made where she was supposed to just thank every one for "sharing this special day with us", but ended up doing lame shout-outs like, "... and we have people here from NEW JERSEY!.. and from BALTIMORE! Whew-hew!!!", then called her new son-in-law by the WRONG name.... Yeah, it happened. It's on the video and she's never been given a mic since.

Given some distance from the situation and a great deal of perspective, I flipped though our wedding album recently and only saw what everyone else saw that day....

Two people, so excited, happy, and in love with one another, before God, making a life-long commitment to honor and cherish. To be faithful and devoted. In good times. In bad. Always.

photos by Huy Nguyen of f8studio

Clearly, we're two people who can trust and appreciate one another, even if that means being rather silly and inappropriate at times. We make each other smile constantly.

It's only been five years since we've met and three years since our wedding, but I feels like a lifetime... and I mean that in the best way possible. We're every cheesy pop song and more.

And, yes, that's me sticking out my tongue at Hubby during the ceremony and his "stop it right now" eyes. That just says it all, doesn't it?

(I love you more every day, Hubby.)

Livin' it up in da'hood

Over lunch with the girls last weekend, I made some off-handed comment about having to keep up appearances in the suburbs. I think the actual phrase I used was "living the facade". I was only attempting to be ironic, but not very well, it seems.

One of my friends got bent out of shape about it, pouted, and said she didn't like hearing that...

"What? That people can be fake?"

"No, that we live in the... suburbs."

"Well, we do."

Classic denial. Last I heard, she was booking a baby-sitter and planning to reconnect with her inner "urbanite" with a night of martinis downtown. I'm hardly opposed to martinis downtown. I just to prefer having them while I blog... at home... in my jammies.

Over the past year, I've been watching several of our friends trying desperately to cling to their life before kids and before the suburbs, and I just don't get it.

Unlike the Native Americans and the rainforest, my "single self" was certainly NOT a way of life worth preserving and judging from the stories these friends like to swill over cocktails, neither were theirs.... Trust me.

We continued chatting about someone's upcoming trip to London and another one's vacation to the family beach house. We gossiped about each other's neighbors, talked about "mommy things", of course, and even planned a girls' getaway for ourselves.

As one of them detailed her recent (and as she noted, pricey) kitchen remodel, and the next mentioned having someone paint a MURAL on the ceiling of her son's "big boy room", it was quite obvious that these ladies weren't exactly lacking for excitement in the "boring 'burbs".

So, what exactly is it about living in the suburbs that makes it so uncool? Because it sounds pretty sweet to me.

Addicts Go To Meetings. I Shop.

Kohl's, Carter's, Gymboree, Oshosh B'gosh, and The Children's Place, too...

I used the "additional 20% off" coupons at all these stores and more. I walked the outlet mall, found the Labor Day pre- and post-sales, and took advantage of "free shipping".

I've stocked my son's entire fall wardrobe with things on sale and too fabulous to pass up.

I told my husband, "I don't have a shopping problem, I have a saving problem (*wink*)

It didn't matter. He took the credit cards anyway.

photo by namolio