The thing is...

So the plan was to write about my pregnancy; the good stuff and the bad. But the thing is, little Ziggy decided to show up two weeks early and I've since succumb to a one-track, baby filled mind. I've forgotten what life was like a mere five days ago.

Until I've got my brain back in order, here's a little something for you to "ohhh" and "ahhh" over.

What do you say after this long?

The purpose of this writing is for me. It's supposed to be therapeutic. Whether or not I need therapy I don't know but it is nice to have some outlet. So why do I feel like I've betrayed my two regular readers? Do I really think they've been checking this site for updates? Really, after this long? Was what I wrote really that fulfilling, inspirational, funny, whatever, to have had such an impact that people would even come back and trust that I might, once again regularly to update? It would be mighty arrogant of me to think in this way. So why feel guilty when I can simply start fresh. I am a whole new Xteener. (Or the same old one, you'll never know.)

Seriously though, what do you say after this long? I thought about a survey. A generic, easy-out for my first blog post in over a year. It would cover what I did for the last year and update those of you who've come back or bring any newcomers up to speed. It seems more like a cop-out. I still feel a twinge of guilt so I probably owe more than a simple survey. At least that will make me feel better.

First of all, I'm pregnant. To be exact, 36 weeks and five days pregnant.

In October of 2009, Bridge Man and I decided we wanted to have a baby. It was that easy. By November we bought a house. Early December we got a dog. It was like a storybook. Somewhere in there we found out we were pregnant. And we all lived happily ever after. Except that on December 24th, around 11:30 at night something happened: The tele-nurse told me with little pity in her voice that there was no need to go to the hospital, my symptoms were textbook, we were having a miscarriage. The end.

I had a stack of little cards to give to family on Christmas morning to announce that a little Baby Bridge Man or Baby Xteener was due to be born the following August. Good thing we hadn't decided to give them out on Christmas Eve. So we celebrated the holiday with family while keeping our mouths shut. All the while my brain was screaming at them. They had no idea what I was going through. They couldn't have known. Still I couldn't help but be mad at every ounce of holiday cheer that came from that day. How could we be festive while this was happening to me. While it was happening to Bridge Man.

A miscarriage isn't short. It's not a one day thing. It goes on and on for weeks. All the while reminding you of what's happening.

No one was there to be sad with me. Not even Bridge Man could understand the loss I felt. After all, I was closest to the little zygote for it's fleeting, eight week life. How could people be so inconsiderate of my feelings? How could the people who had no idea what was happening be so inconsiderate? Then comes the guilt. I killed my baby. What could I have done differently? If only I hadn't had that glass of wine, if only I hadn't moved all those heavy boxes, if only I had known that I was pregnant earlier, I could have taken better care of that precious being who depended solely on me for life.

Side bar: The correct response to someone who opens up to you regarding their miscarriage is NOT that the baby had some chromosomal abnormality. That doesn't make it better. It's as if you're telling them their son or daughter was imperfect in some way and therefore, better off dead.

As with most things, I move on. This last Christmas Eve was a little bittersweet. It marked the anniversary of the day I lost my first baby. Days like these I can't help but think about how old he would have been, what she may have looked like, or what milestones he would be approaching. However, the day was celebrated with gifts for the new baby yet to come. Baby Ziggy will be here sometime this February. What a fantastic moment that will be. However, I will never forget the agony of a miscarriage and the loss of a child. Nor will I forget the excitement and anticipation that comes the first time I found out I was pregnant. Nothing beats a moment like that.

It's a bit unsettling to publish something so vulnerable for all to read. Maybe, since I've been gone so long no one will read this. In the end, it was therapeutic.

That Grinds My Gears

I'm big on family. No, huge on family. I have two brothers and two sisters, a nephew, and a wonderful extended family of aunts and uncles and in-laws and grandparents and cousins. And don't forget the spirit on my shoulder who I call mom. I love to attend family functions. It feels as if I really try to make time to talk/see/visit my family. In college, I went home at least once a month to visit. Post college, I lived closer to home and went to visit as often as possible. Sometimes multiple weekends in a row. Maybe this is abnormal. Although, not once have I heard complaints that I'm coming around all too often. We always use the time to catch up, go shopping, or make a fancy meal.

So maybe I am being close-minded when I say that I can't understand those people who make a special effort to stay away from their perfectly nice family. I can understand not wanting to be around a not-so-nice family member... I have a few members of my brood in that same category. Who doesn't? When you're parents invite you to dinner and you make some lame excuse to get out of spending time with them, when a family member offers up a word of advice and you disregard it completely, when you talk badly about family to other people, when you can't pick up a phone once a month to give someone a call... these things I don't understand. What kind of person can give such blatant disregard for the people with whom you share a familial connection?

In the wise words of Peter Griffin, that really grinds my gears.

As I pretend I haven't been MIA

Happy summer to you all. Oh wait, it's over. I know this because of the 65 degree weather we've been presented with the last week or so. Foolishly I wished for fall weather and now that it's here, I hope and hope each day that Mother Nature will take pity on me and throw a few 90's my way. Pretty please? Not that Bridge Man and I haven't taken full advantage of the summers glorious, gloriousness. We travel somewhere nearly every weekend. A few trips to Six Flags to enjoy some roller coaster mayhem. Yes, I'm almost thirty and still enjoy a good coaster thrashing. Although I can't take it as long as I could have ten years ago. By the end of the day I will require two Advil and my fluffy pillow, please and thank you.

In June we drove to the southern most point of Missouri to enjoy some time on the farm. Also known as Bridge Man's favorite past time. We spent four glorious days getting poison ivy and bug bites, lighting fireworks, and shooting guns. Good times. I really did enjoy the trip although I can't help but be bitter. My skin has taken a beating this summer. Sunburns, poison everything, bug bites, a few more sunburns, and a few more buggy bites. Before this summer I maybe got one or two bug bites a year and never had poison anything in my life. Did you know you can develop an allergy to poison ivy? Well you can. Over the last few months calamine lotion, Off!, and SPF 85 have been my best friends.

In July we flew to California to see some of the family. Also known as Xteener's favorite past time. That's always a fabulous trip. We are planning to take the in-laws out there next summer. It should be so fun! Big Ma, that's what we call my MIL, wants to do all the tourist-type things which I love. When we go out there I try to act like I'm a regular California girl. Been there, done that. I'm fooling no one, I haven't lived there in over a decade. Seeing the Hollywood sign still makes me squeal a little. If your cross your eyes and squint a little, you can see it. This was before I found the digital zoom on my camera.

And of course August means that I'm no longer a newlywed. Bridge Man and I celebrated our one year wedding anniversary with a weekend trip to our Alma mater. We visited all the sites that were so fabulous back then. They are still just as fabulous. For a dinky, little college town there is a lot to do. Wining, dining, and lounging. That's how we spent our college years. (Maybe the first weekend before classes started.)

As always with the end of summer, there is a bit of a let down. A "what's next" kind of attitude. If I slow down too much I become like a hibernating bear. You may not see me again until next spring. No worries, my pretty, Bridge Man and I have some things in the works. A possible relocation, new jobs, new house, new everything. We shall see.

Exclamations!

Moon Beam is back from the middle of Nowhere, TX! She has been gone for months and months and months. Let the mayhem commence!




Don't we look like a duo of bad assy-ness? I think so.

Jaded

I'm in a bit of a snarky mood. A cumulation of events has brought me to this place. I try not to get too personal when writing here but we all know how unsuccessful I've been with that. Who cares though, it's my blog. If I say something someone else doesn't like they can type up in that little tool bar doo-hickey and be gone in an Internet flash. But I would really appreciate if you stayed. You see, all the personal ramblings seem to help a little. Knowing that maybe one person read, and maybe even related to what I wrote helps me to cope.

Unfortunately, I haven't talked about this in the past so I have no choice but to fill you in on the arduous back story. My 20 year-old sister has been living with Bridge Man and me since December. She got herself into trouble living on her own and needed some help. We agreed to take her in but with some stipulations. No drugs, no alcohol, no boyfriends at the house. We did not want her bringing the drama of her past into our lives.

We talked to her about going to school and getting a good job. We talked about paying off her old debts. We talked to her about staying away from friends who might sway her back into old habits. We've done a lot of talking over these past five months. Instead of getting a good job and going to school she sleeps all day, goes to work for a few hours as a waitress, comes home to stay up and watch TV all night, only to start the cycle again in the morning. After a few weeks of this I get frustrated and talk to her again. She needs to get motivated, to DO something with her life. She gets motivated for a day or two and then falls back into old habits.

A few months into her stay with us we find her drug paraphernalia in our spare bedroom. I get mad. She cries and tells me that it's the only thing that helps her to get past all the bad things that have happened to her. I feel bad for her. One more chance.

She takes my clothes. She stole my makeup. She went through my filing cabinet to find stamps and paper to write to her boyfriend who is currently in jail. These things go on every week she is here. Whatever, she's a ignorant teenager who does ignorant stuff. A month or so goes by. A bottle of Vicodin that Bridge Man had after a surgical procedure comes up missing. She denies all allocations. Last week, I opened a bottle of wine and had a glass. This week the bottle is missing. She denies all allocations. A few days ago I pick her up from work and she is wearing my scarf. Straw, camel, broken back.

I flipped out. I screamed at her the entire 10 minute drive home. I flail my arms wildly and hit my fists into the steering wheel. (Side note: I should not have been driving at that moment.) I screamed so loudly that I was hoarse for the next two days.

I am at the end of my rope. Everything of value has been taken out of the spare bedroom where she sleeps and stuffed into our bedroom. Everything that cannot be taken out has been locked up, tied down, or hidden somewhere else. I organize things in the medicine cabinet in a way I can tell if someone has been in there.

I am living in a prison. My house has become a prison.

I grew up with drug addicts and alcoholics my whole life. I made the decision a long time ago to stay away from those substances because I didn't want to end up the way so many in my family have. My mom, my brothers, my sisters and myself were abused by addicts for so long. And now I have invited an addict into my house to take advantage of the fact that I am her sister. She knows that I won't kick her out. What would happen to her if I did kick her out? She would go back to the unhealthy life she was living. If anything bad was to happen to her because I kicked her out... I couldn't imagine the guilt.

Funny Dancing Tomato Kid

Warning: You'll laugh, you'll cry, and you may pee a little.