Lights Out

What a day.

Already I have worked on solving half of the worlds problems, finished my blog design, drank an entire pot of coffee and survived an hour long power outage.

Mind you the power outage put a real hitch in my giddy-up, because it meant cooling coffee and no internet.

I kept mindlessly switching on and off all the light switches, repeatedly thought I could just use the microwave since the stove wouldn't work and more than once sat down to play solitaire on the computer since I didn't have internet.

I also seriously considered eating all the food in the fridge on the off chance that we would never have power again.

It would have been a sad day had all that food gone to waste.

Lucky for my ever expanding waistline the power was back on within an hour or so, just before I had to make the ultimate sacrifice of eating all the contents of our two refrigerators and one upright freezer.

So now I have the rest of the day to relax, fold clothes and do dishes.

I think I'll have a little something to eat first.

Lazy...

It's 2010.

Where is my self cleaning kitchen, flying car and jet pack?

Where is my Rosie who will clean the house and press my clothes and keep me fit and trim like Jane?

I made the best chili last night.*

Really, it was out of this world and I plan on having some for breakfast and some for lunch too.

Here's the deal though, before I have chili for breakfast I have to clean the kitchen from last night which is usually something I do at night because I can't stand filth in the morning but last night I just had a second bowl of chili and watched Rosie on Oprah and then went to bed because I was to stuffed to stay awake.

So, what do I get?

Thats right, a mess in the morning.

I need to watch Hoarders.

That is always a hardcore dose of what we could ALL become if we don't watch ourselves.

I truly think hoarding is a disease of our society.

Remember the story our parents and grandparents told about walking to school uphill both ways in the snow carrying their shoes?

About eating mustard sandwiches and potato soup?

Now look at us.

I'm no hoarder, but I don't think I'd pass a white glove inspection either.

Ok, enough procrastinating, I have to go put on my new shoes and do the dishes.

*For the BEST chili in the WORLD check out John Deere Moms award winning recipe.

http://johndeeremom.blogspot.com/2010/01/award-winning-chili-recipe.html

Freash Air and Smelly Dogs

I have all the doors open today.

Not because it's so warm mind you, but because I need the fresh air.

Winter makes me claustrophobic, I hate used air.

You know how some people like to snuggle?

Not me.

I need my own space, my own blankets and please don't breathe on me or in my direction.

Would you believe that as I'm writing this, at this very minute, my dogs just came in and laid down at my feet after rolling in something I would have to guess has been dead for quite some time.

Right now as I'm writing about needing clean fresh air.

Gag.

So anyway, houses in winter AND airplanes make me very uneasy.

I just think about #6 being on an airplane to Iraq and I need a nerve pill.

Not only do you have the used air issue to contend with on airplanes, but you also have the cinema seat dilemma.

You know, how when you go to the cinema to watch a movie and your stuck not being able to stretch out your legs for two hours...

Well on an airplane it's even worse because you have cinema seat and used air and you can't get up and leave even if you wanted to.

Oh my gawd, I'm starting to sweat.

My dogs stink and I need air, see ya later.

Shipping Out

Remember the 30,000 dollar calamity of 09' with #6?

Remember I decided the best way for him to pay the money back and make amends for what he did would be to go to Afghanistan and drive truck and make buckets of money?

Well, he's going.

He got the call, he's done all the paper work and he leaves for training in Houston on the 31st of this month and then it's off to Iraq for a year.

I am excited for this to be behind us and hope that maybe we can salvage some type of normalcy in our relationship, but really, how do you do that after your trust has been trashed.

I mean this guy looked me straight in the eye for eight months as he was cleaning out my Grandfathers bank account.

Who does that?

How does someone do that?

I don't get it.

I really don't want a divorce, I mean divorce is easy, I have the routine down pat, it's just I don't want to go through the hassle and emotions and expense of a divorce.

I'm older, fatter and tired and not the least bit interested in moving on to greener pastures.

I was happy with how things were, even though #6 was never the one big true love in my life.

I never saw fireworks, my heart never skipped a beat when he walked in the room, but he was my friend.

I thought he was the guy who had my back, the guy who was there beside me when the going got tough, and I always thought I could depended on him to be my partner as I continued to get even older and fatter then I already am.

Our marriage was easy, we didn't fight, we seldom even argued.

We just had that one big problem...

He was a lying, thieving piece of shit pretending to be a great guy.

So how do you believe someone when they tell you who they are and then turn out to be someone totally different, and can people really change or will he always be a lying , stealing rat?

I don't know, I guess only time will tell.

Time and 30,000 dollars

Bubbles!

Enough about Wyatt, I have a new love!

I've wanted to make soap for about a year.

I love homemade soap.

I love all the different sizes and smells of homemade soap.

I love everything about homemade soap except the making homemade soap for the first time part of homemade soap.

Then I went to Washington during the holidays and my friend Kenna made soap with me.

She showed me all the tricks and went over every step with me so I wouldn't be scared to do it by myself.

I came home and bought the oils, the scale, the lye, the fragrance, and all the other soap stuff I needed and stared at all of it sitting on my counter because I was still a little scared.

I re-read my books.

I re-watched the videos.

I re-scoured the blogs.

I re-went over my notes from Kenna.

I was ready.

I did it.

ALLBYMYSELF!

I. Made. My. Own. Soap.

It wasn't near as scary as I thought it was going to be and now I'm hooked.

Hello, my name is Marilyn and I'm a cold process soap junkie.

I wake up thinking about soap and I go to bed thinking about soap.

My house smells so fabulous you wouldn't even believe it.

I think we will be the cleanest family in Beavercreek and have the cleanest friends and family in three states.

I will have the freshest smelling dogs, pig, goats and donkeys.

No one will escape the soap.

I will give it as gifts for birthdays, weddings, baby showers, graduation, Christmas and Hanukkah .

(if I ever meet anyone Jewish...)

The problem is, I don't know how much time my new addiction will leave for parenting, facebook and blogging.

I may need to work on my time management skills.

Anyway, I would love to stick around and talk more about this, but I have soap to make!

Wy 2

So I made myself an appointment with Dr Bob to see if the cheapo test was right.

I still had doubt, five dollars can't buy you big news with any reliability.

Dr Bob assured me it was five dollars well spent and it was true, I was "expecting."

O.M.G.

Wendy was fifteen.

This was NOT in my plans.

When I told Wendy she thought I was kidding, because of course it WAS the most ridiculous thing I had ever said to her. After I convinced her I was telling the truth, all she could say was "I'm not babysitting and I'm NOT getting bunk beds." Then it was just a bunch of incoherent babbling.

Thats kind of what Jack did too. Wait, I guess I should clarify that, more incoherent babbling than usual.

This news was bigger than all of us and it was going to take some getting used to.

I think telling my family was the hardest. No, telling them I was pregnant with Wendy was the hardest, but trust me, this was no walk in the park.

As it turned out everyone seemed to be ok with our news and some even excited.

My friends were super excited and very encouraging, especially Trina who turned out to be my life coach and biggest support of all.

Trina would handle all the important details of my pregnancy for me like scheduling doctor appointments and keeping my smoking to under a pack a day.

She also took care of things like bringing me Milk Duds in the middle of the night, planning the BEST baby shower EVER and even bought and assembled the crib.*

She would read to me week by week from the What to Expect When You're Expecting book and reassured me it was ok when my ankles disappeared but that maybe a little exercise was a good idea.

Jack informed me early on that he was in charge of naming our little bundle, which to be truthful, looking back I should have known was a bad idea, but at the time I thought it was just something I needed to roll with, even though his names were not ones that I would have chosen.

If the baby was a girl, her name would be Kitty.

Not Katherine, Kitty.

If the baby was a boy, his name would be Wyatt.

I prayed for a boy.

The time came for the ultrasound.

Did we want to know the sex?

Are you kidding?

I had to know so I could mentally prepare.

The room was dark and silent.

Dr. Bob looked at us and spoke those dreaded words.

It's. A. Girl.

Cries rang out and tears fell as we embraced each other in support of the terrible news we had been given.

How could God play such a cruel cruel joke on us?

Kitty?

Kitty Swafford?

It was a curse bestowed upon our little girl before she even took her first breath.

But wait.

As Dr Bob ran the jelly laden ball across my giant belly again, he saw it.

There it was, bigger than life....

A WEENIS!

It was a boy!

It was Wyatt!

The angels sang and our tears turned to big wet happy drops of joy.

Now all we had to do was get him out.

*Trina and her husband Michael went to Sears to buy me a crib as a surprise.

When they went to the parking lot to get the car and drive around to will-call to pick it up, the REAL surprise was that someone had STOLEN their car!

Can you even believe that!

The Story of Wy

It was the backside of Memorial Day weekend 1998.

It also just happened to be my Birthday weekend which is always cause for celebration.

The party started on Friday night after work, bonfire at the beach with friends and Jacks crazy family.

Saturday was spent digging clams, crabbing and drinking beer getting ready for the big dinner on Monday. Sunday was a repeat of Saturday with the bonus of a good friends Birthday thrown in and that meant a party and dancing downtown that lasted into early morning Monday.

You can imagine the shape I was in Monday afternoon as I sat at the kitchen table with Jacks Mother cracking crab for dinner that night.

Now mind you, Jacks family was without a doubt a formative factor in what went into making Jack the scoundrel he is.

Lets just say the entire family was "a little rough around the edges."

His Mother was no exception

As I sat there at the table with her, cigarette smoke bouncing off the walls and forming weather patterns above us, she looked at me and with the rasp that only a lifetime smoker can claim said in no uncertain terms, "Little Girl , you look like shit," and she was right.

Not only did I look that way, I felt that way too.

After three days of sunshine, beer and general debauchery I was definitely feeling the effects.

I felt so bad I couldn't even smoke my own cigarettes let alone stand the constant smell that was wafting through the kitchen, and the smell of the crab was more than I could take, and trust me, that alone told me the situation was serious. I was the one who always ate more than I cracked and usually wasn't even welcome at the cracking table.

I leaned in towards my Mother -in-law and quietly confessed to her my fear of having a brain tumor.

I had never felt this way.

The sickness, the dizziness, I was so tired.

There was a moments silence before she stood up on her short little legs and started stomping her feet in her best pair of worn out slippers and bellered in my face...

Little Girl! Yer knocked up!

No.

I wasn't.

I was on the pill.

I took the pill every day.

Every day.

These were the thoughts that were going through my head as the old woman danced around the kitchen singing "Yer knocked up, Yer knocked up!"

I got in my car, drove straight to the drugstore, bought a bargain test, drove back to the house, peed on the stick and watched as the + sign appeared before my eyes.

This. Could. Not. Be. True.

I was on the pill.

Here's a fact about me that those who know me are well aware.

I will do anything to save a buck, so on reflection I have an idea that this may have happened because I was taking the pills that Val had left over after her husband had a vasectomy.

I figured that they WERE doctor prescribed, just not by my doctor.

I also figured that the expiration date didn't really matter and since they were bubble wrapped they would last forever.

As it turned out, I figured wrong

Even the pill I took that morning wasn't going to help me.

I was knocked up.