the hard truth

Maybe I’m paying more attention to it this year, I don’t know, but it seems like Father’s Day is everywhere. Best gift for dad! What’s the best advice your dad has ever given you? How much does your dad mean to you? Blah de blah blah.

I wish I had a better attitude about those things. But, I don’t.

Relationship with *my* dad?

Does. Not. Exist.

(I think most of you already know that, but if you’d like some ranty background reading, try this or this or this.)

I honestly can’t think of any helpful advice my dad gave to me. Like, ever.

I am insanely envious of all you people with great dad relationships. I know we can’t have everything in life, but I would be lying if I didn’t say that that would have been something nice to experience. The closest thing I have is Tim’s dad, which is way, way better than nothing at all and I am very thankful for him.

I know that Kellan’s relationship with Tim will be nothing like the one I (don’t) have with my dad. Thank the High Almighty for that. Tim and his dad have a pretty decent relationship. Tim still asks for advice from him, even to this day. That is what I hope happens with Tim and Kellan, though I’m not worried. In fact, I’m pretty sure it will end up working out that way.

So, for me, Father’s Day isn’t about celebrating my own father, which is both true and sad. After years of being hurt, again and again, it was a chapter in my life that I felt best to close.

Honestly, making and acting on that decision resulted in a huge weight being lifted off of my shoulders. Dropping that emotional burden was the right thing to do. I feel so much better. Less stressed. Less negativity. Will I regret not trying (for the nth time) to rebuild a relationship?

No.

Unless he makes drastic changes – and I mean a complete 180, total overhaul in current life and parenting choices – my life is better without him. That was a hard truth for me to swallow, but once the bitterness washed away, I realized that it was what I had needed to move forward in my life.

Sometimes I do wonder if I am doing the right thing…and then, inevitably, something will happen – like getting a cryptic birthday card from him about “truths hidden in your heart” – and I know at that moment that I am. I absolutely am doing the right thing.

This? This is the truth. My truth. My reality. I’m not afraid of it, nor am I hiding from it. YOU may have that load to bear, but I dropped mine long ago.

Do you see what I mean about stress and negativity? Who sends their daughter a 30th birthday card with that kind of message?

That example is exactly why I cut off all contact. And because I consciously decided to do this, years ago, his attempts (and me wracking my brain trying to figure it all out) at whatever it is he’s trying to do no longer sit in the pit of my stomach but instead roll off my back like water on a duck.

Instead, I now focus on the positive, happy, fulfilling things, like celebrating Tim being a wonderful dad andKellan building a strong relationship with him.

Don’t feel sorry or sad for me. Be happy that I finally realized what was best and healthiest for me and my own little family of three and took the necessary steps to keep us all emotionally sane.

So, Happy Father’s Day to all of the amazing dads out there! There are so many more awesome dads than not, and all of you lucky people who have one? Go give him an extra tight hug. He’s earned it.

PS: I understand some of you will disagree with me/my decisions, but that is the beauty of your life versus mine. You get to live yours. I get to live mine. We both get to make decisions that are best for us, in our own life, because we walk that path every day and know what is best for our mental, emotional, and physical health. We know our past and we know what will give us a better future, versus only getting a glimpse into someone’s world and judging their decisions based on a tiny snapshot.

when what i want doesn’t happen

*Long, audible siiiiiiiigh.*

It has been ridiculously hot the last few days. As in 80 degrees before 9am hot and then the temperature just keeps climbing until we hit close to 100.

This makes me very sad. I am not a fan. These crazy hot days need to GO. And yet, it is only June.

This kind of super hot before it should be weather makes running very challenging. If I can’t get out of the door early enough, I’m out of luck. It will be entirely too warm to run and to put Kellan in the jogging stroller thst has zero air circulation. This child came with an internal heat making device, I think. He sweats unless it is below freezing.

I am so not even joking.

If we rent cars, we have to have a ceiling vent for the air conditioner or he overheats.

Anyway, Kellan actually woke up super early today. Early enough that we could have easily and comfortably gone for a run.

Except…he didn’t want to go for a run in the stroller.

He wanted to read. And read. And read.

There was a point in which I asked him if he wanted to go for a run and he adamantly said, “NAY!” (His word for no) and then went and picked out another book.

So, in a battle of differing agendas, we went with Kellan’s choice. Even though the pavement was calling my name, calling to me…”Come! Run on me! Feel the cool air! Run! Run!,” I have zero mommy guilt. And I really hate mommy guilt. I try to do whatever I can to avoid it at all costs. I managed to do that this morning.

Everybody wins.

Mandatory cute Kellan picture.

entirely too much ado about poo

Let’s take a break from toddlers and mom stuff and instead try to remember that we also own five animals. Two dogs, three cats. The spring is a pain in the you know where because winter coats? They don’t stay on.

Current fur level set to: Explosive molting.

Anyhow, Tim had the lovely task of carting four of our five (one of the dogs stayed home) fur children to the vet on Saturday, brave soul that he is. The vet tech told him we were crazy, bringing them all in at once.

This is probably true.

Here they are…top left is Alegre, hiding. Below Alegre is Chloe (back) and Gracie in front, and Maddie, the lone canine in the group.

But that is just how it happened to work out. They were all due for shots and what’s a wife to do when she also has a busy, does not want to sit still – EVER, 16 month old?

She packs up the animals, writes a list of questions for the vet on a pad and sends her husband with uplifting parting words all, “It’ll be fine! Good luck and don’t forget to get Alegre’s butt shaved and have Maddie’s anal glands expressed!”

Alegre is our oldest cat and for some reason, her butt is shaped like an extruder instead of….whatever shape a normal cat butt looks like so poo comes out and doesn’t stick to the sides (gag). The solution to keep that “area” sanitary is to have it furless. You’ll see in a minute why we don’t dare attempt that kind up close encounter with her rear end.

And our golden retriever, Maddie, has had issues with her butt (read: every time she poops, it’s a runny, mucous covered alien. Excuse me while I gag).

This issue will not go away.

Our new vet that we recently switched to, heard all of her symptoms and thinks she may have hypothyroidism. If her bloodwork comes back showing that, it could solve a myriad of problems along with the poo (unexplained weight gain, always sad/low energy, hip joint issues, etc).

Hear me, people: I don’t care if the bloodwork comes back showing an invasion of tiny leprechauns parading around inside her body. If this vet can fix this issue that has been going on for YEARS, I’ll sing the hallelujah chorus wearing a fedora.

We have tried everything to get her poo to be normal. EVERYTHING. Obviously, something is going on that we can’t seem to fix. Lexi has zero poo issues, so it’s not the environment.

I think we find out her results this week.

So, in other news, Alegre does not like the vet. When she sees the pink carrier come out, she is on high alert that something unpleasant is about to happen.

You know when you see pictures of cats with all four paws on each corner of the carrier, absolutely refusing to go inside, and you think, “Nah…that doesn’t really happen…”

Oh, I can assure you it does.

And she made certain to let everyone know just how dissatisfied she was when Tim had them take her back to shave her butt…

Apparently, Alegre’s ability to voluntarily express her anal glands with that kind of force was a first. The vet was laughing so hard telling Tim what happened that he was crying.

And then? The office manager wouldn’t give us a multi pet discount or any other kind of discount, even though 1: we spent upwards of $500 and 2: the actual techs/vets were like, “If I were in charge, I would…” which then led to this:

Moral of the story: If you’re going to have pets, be sure to get one with assitude..

dream interpretations

So, last night I had two of my least favorite, though recurring, dreams.

The first was me hearing a tornado while I was in the kitchen and trying to get Kellan put of his high chair as fast as possible to get into the basement. Of course, undoing the buckles on the straps took forever and I was panicking because I couldn’t seem to undo them fast enough. Somehow, though, we made it safely downstairs, though I don’t exactly remember the end of that dream.

The second one? My mom was driving me somewhere that I needed to be at a certain time, in a city we were not familiar with. We kept going down the wrong streets. Then? She started going up an on-ramp and then kept going and I was like, “What are you doing??” And then she drove right off the road, which happened to be a bridge, I guess, because down we went. The weird part is that she and the car went faster than me? I was above them, though still falling, and trying desperately to undo my seatbelt, which looked a lot like Kellan’s high chair straps. That dream woke me up like a shot and my legs were tingling and everything. Legitimate physical response to that dream.

Oh. That reminds me. I had a third dream. Crazy night for dreams I guess. The third dream was actually the first one I had. I was at a house with both my mom and Tim’s dad and Kellan. Tim was at work or somewhere, I guess. Anyway, I was trying to get ready to go out with someone, who was a dude and I’m pretty sure it was like a prom? I don’t even know why I would be going to prom….anyway, I had not even started getting ready AT the time I was supposed to leave and all of a sudden I asked my mom/Tim’s dad if either would watch Kellan. They both basically said no after hemming and hawing. I stood there like, “How am I supposed to enjoy my outing if I also have to take care of Kellan at the same time??”

Finally, they decided they could watch him for a few hours and I got ready as fast as I could, throwing on a random dress that was lying around and then apologizing profusely to whoever the person was I was going to dinner/prom ???) with because I was so late.

Once we got to dinner, I remember looking across the table at him and thinking he didn’t look anything like I thought he did initially. And he ordered some kind of appetizer that he had had before to try and hurry things along, since I had limited time. And then he starts telling me how he met his wife? girlfriend? at this place. They met because they caught each other’s eyes in these large wine bottles on a shelf that lined the ceiling. They were both looking at one at the same time or something? It was odd. That’s pretty much where that dream ended.

I know that both tornadoes and falling off things can mean a loss of control in your life. And in a sense, I’ve totally lost being able to control much of my day, being at the whim of a toddler. I also read that the driving off a bridge or whatever can mean that you’re not on the path you want to be in life or that you’re struggling to get onto the path you want to be on.

So, to recap:

Tornadoes = no control
Bridge = wrong path

The third dream, to me, says that I lack the resources to help me with Kellan so I have time to myself/time to work on and do the things I want to do that will put me on the path that I already know I want to be on. That’s my struggle. I know the path. I know what I want to (try) to do. I just don’t have the help to free up time for me to get there.

I know, what about Tim?

He works pretty much 12 hour days and the weekends are full of all the things he didn’t have time to do during the week or errands or appointments. So, no real reprieve anywhere. It is pretty much a continuous cycle of getting nothing accomplished (for me, anyway).

And what about me?

I have no idea.

Obviously, I need…well, lots of things. Time, for starters.

bird murderer!

I’m not sure if I ever mentioned that our super nice neighbors moved…last November. The ones who made us food when Kellan was born, the wife who took care of the dead bird because I was like. OMG. DEAD BIRD. And she was all, Um. Yah. And then dealt with it without me even knowing.

Anyway, we were really sad about them moving. Really sad. Even more so when the new neighbors moved in. I made them muffins. We tried to be nice. The wife was pretty much something that rhymes with itchy…always with a scowl on her face, never saying a word to us, never waving. Zip. Zilch. Nada.

So, we didn’t – and we haven’t – really made any further attempts to be friends.

And then last night? I was in the front yard/driveway with Kellan and she came outside and started talking to me. Out of nowhere.

I was just as confused as you are about this random act of niceness.

I’m still not sure what I did to be lucky enough to be graced with her smile.

The conversation started out okay….pretty normal stuff that moms talk about….sleeping, potty training…pre-school (she has three boys, one who is about to be in 1st grade, one in pre-school, one who is 4 months old).

Then it took an unexpected turn. A turn I had no chance to prepare myself for.

A bird flew by their roof and she was all, “Oh, yah. I have someone coming out tomorrow to block off their way in. They built a nest inside our roof. The babies are SO ANNOYING. Once mama bird can’t get in…” she trailed off…

Hear me, people. It took everything I had to inconspicuously scoop my jaw off the pavement and not say what was running through my head (Bird murderer!). I’m pretty sure my face gave me away because she quickly was like, “they aren’t nice birds, Starlings, so, oh well.”

Oh well?

OH WELL???

What is wrong with you? Who does that? What kind of lesson are you teaching your children? Something is irritating me, so I’m just going to kill it. Oh well.

Now I feel like an accomplice to her awful plan because I know it’s happening and I’m not doing anything to stop it.

I’m sure there is a more humane way to handle this, we live in Boulder for crying out loud, the place where they suck up prairie dogs with a vacuum that’s attached to a tank thing with padded walls and relocate them.

I’m totally serious.

Her method? Heartless. Cop out. Never something I would do.

I have no idea why she decided to come out and talk to me and tell me it’s macaroni and cheese night and how parenting only gets so much worse after you get past the two-to-one nap transition.

Question? If it’s so terrible, why didn’t you stop after the first one?

Follow up question? Why are we even still talking?

She acted more annoyed by her kids than she did happy to have them. She always acts that way, actually. The second I started paying attention to them as they started showing me rocks, they latched into me like white on rice.

That makes me sad. Sad for the poor baby birds. Sad for her kids. Sad for her husband, who is actually super nice. Ten to one his favorite drink is the one that allows him to tune her out.

All of this is exactly why we will never be friends.

I mean, what if she starts to think *I’m* irritating?

random hello

Ahhhhh so what’s happened lately?

My brother came to visit. Kellan is now 15 months (!!!!!!) old and is teething like CRAZY. Drool everywhere. EVERYWHERE. Also, I have a multitude of projects going on, zero completed, and we’d really like to plant some flowers outside, but I always seem to kill them (the sun is apparently hot and plants need water. Two obvious concepts I seem to forget).

(How is it flowers live just fine, all by themselves *in nature* but the second they grace my yard? Brown. Brittle. Dead.)

I am actually working on something kind of exciting, I think. I’m not sure when it’ll be finished but you’ll be the first to know when it is. Promise.

Until…well, the next time, here’s a little eye candy. Also known as my life.

Yes, I realize my hair is crazy in that picture below.

dog shaming

I was just going to put this on Instagram and leave it at that, but then I thought to myself, no. This needs more attention.

**And where do you mommy blogger types find the time? Days just bleed into each other and when, exactly, am I supposed to write something coherent**

So, anyway, we have kind of started a new after dinner routine where we take Kellan for a ride in his wagon to get the mail and then we all walk to the park.

I say we all walk to the park because at the mailboxes – community ones, people. It’s why Coloradans are so healthy. Our mail is a quarter mile away – Kellan decides he wants nothing to do with the wagon and he would rather walk, holding my hand the whole time or walking short distances from Tim or me to the other person. Then we play at the park and walk home.

The whole thing takes maybe 20-30 minutes, tops.

Before yesterday, we would leave the dogs out. They had free roaming privileges around the house, because we wouldn’t be gone long.

Apparently that is not an option anymore.

Last night, when we walked into the house, we were greeted by a pile of leaves and branches from a plant.

And not just any pile. These pieces had all been meticulously placed in the family room, perfectly visible from any door we entered.

Okay, you guys. The plant? It lives in the computer room. There is a very long hallway that separates the family room from the computer room. A long hallway with an offshoot to a bathroom along with a potential detour to upstairs.

So, I beg the question, what, exactly, was the thought process, here, girls?

Let’s be honest, Maddie and Lexi. If you just wanted to destroy a plant, then I’d imagine you would sit at the plant and do that.

Why even bother going through the effort of carrying, ever so delicately, each and every piece alllllllll the way down the hallway and into the family room and drop them into a pile?

Over and over and over again?

There was not a single, solitary, leaf on the path between the plant in the computer room and the pile in the family room

When we came through the garage door and Maddie saw the look on Tim’s face, she high tailed it out into the garage, squeezing by just before the door closed automatically (it’s a heavy door that doesn’t stay open unless propped). She was so stealthy that Tim had no idea she even went out. He was so busy trying to get to Lexi, he was certain Maddie was with her until I was all, “She’s in the garage.”

And that she was, hiding behind the cars.

After Tim got her back inside, she ran upstairs and tried to hide in the bedroom.

Obviously, she was well aware she had made an error with her choices while we were gone.

Lexi, thinking she was off scott free, played dumb like, “I was so good! That mess definitely wasn’t me!”

And then we checked her mouth and it was full of dirt.

That little giveaway resulted in her immediately rolling over onto her back, legs in the air, full on submission.

I’m guessing their brains went something like, “Um. Hello? You’re supposed to take me with you. And you didn’t. So, now I’m stuck here while you’re out there in nature. You know what else is nature? This plant right here. And I’m gonna take pieces of this plant and put allllll of the nature in a big ass pile so you see what I’m talking about when you get home. You go into nature, YOU TAKE ME WITH YOU.”

The sign says: We were mad mommy and daddy went for a walk without us, so we had the gall to destroy the plant and put it in the family room. I’m sure mommy and daddy got the message. Maddie & Lexi

The best part? As Tim was giving the dogs the what for, half laughing, Kellan was sitting in the kitchen, yelling like a backseat driver as many dog commands as he could remember, “Yesth! Sit! Yesth! Out! Stay! Sit!”

sold a bag of…beans

I had dinner at a friend’s house the other night. It was just Kellan and me, along with my friend, her husband and their kid, who is about 6-7 months older than Kellan.

None of that is really all that important to the story, other than to know that we were all there together and that my friend is just as type A as me. Also, she does not like messes. AT ALL. I cannot stress that enough. NO MESS or else she goes crazy.

Kellan is a super messy eater. I mean, a bib is a requirement or else a full on outfit change will be needed. Sometimes a bib cannot even contain the mess and we have to put on a new outfit despite our best efforts. I have found a pea inside of his belly button and cheese in his diaper, and yogurt dries on body parts like cement – FYI.

My friend’s child takes after her mother. The bib? Just for decoration. If a teeny tiny spill happens, the kid will not stop talking about it until they can clean it up. They as in the child.

During dinner, their kid did not hesitate to point out all the bits and pieces and giant chunks of food that Kellan had dropped thrown onto the floor.

We had lasagna, so you can imagine what that was like for He Who Has Never Eaten Lasagna…look at all the layers. of. fun!

It was really good lasagna, so I have no idea why Kellan thought it was better on the floor…oh. Wait. Food is not just for eating when you’re a child. I am not sure when the switch happens in your brain that says DO NOT WASTE versus the one that’s all, “Hey! Neat! Did you hear the noise that noodle made when it hit the floor?! I wonder what broccoli sounds like?” The second one sounds like it would be way more fun, actually.

After dinner and the hose down of Kellan and a three foot perimeter around his high chair – which wouldn’t have been *that* messy, except….when my friend asked if I could bring his high chair, I was really proud of myself for remembering to put it in the car. And then when we sat down to eat, I went to grab the tray that attaches to the….oh. The tray. That is still at my house. The thing that contains a lot of the mess. Yah. Forgot it.

So, right. After dinner, my friend’s husband started showing me all of these tiny tomato plants that he was growing. When I say tiny I mean each was a little dirt ball had one thin, frail green shoot poking out. The dirt was in the form of a tiny pot…except without the actual pot. I’m not really sure how that all works but it is an important detail to remember: press formed dirt, no walls to contain it.

My friend is not fond of these plants because apparently they take over the house every spring and are dead before summer is over.

He had nine of the tomato plants on a plate that he had placed on a window sill behind their couch in the family room. I wasn’t paying any attention to them, really. My friend had left the room for a minute and I was sitting on the floor, also in the family room, playing with Kellan.

And then it happened.

Friend’s husband, who was sitting on the couch, picked up the plate of tiny plants – without pots – and started looking at them and then proudly holding them up, as if on display, all, “I have nine of these. I plan on sharing them with….”

He never got the rest out. It’s like all of a sudden one of those dirt pods realized it no longer had to confirm to its shape and it was all, “FREEDOM!”

And then it spontaneously combusted.

He looked up at me, frozen, still holding the plate, like “What. Just. Happened?”

I started laughing all, “Guess you only have eight to share, now.”

That must have jump started his brain because he quickly started picking pieces of dirt off of himself and the couch, saying “don’t tell her! I don’t want to get in trouble!”

My friend comes back and joins us at about that time and I tried to stop laughing and keep the secret. I really did.

But…seeing her sit on the floor with me, her back to ‘the incident’ – completely oblivious to her husband behind us, frantically picking up dirt, trying to be discrete at the same time, was too much.

I lost it. I was laughing without being able to explain why while my friend is staring at me all, “What is so funny?”

Finally, her husband fessed up and told her he made a mess, because I was unable to contain myself.

Sorry about that, husband to the type A wife. I tried.

Then, as I was leaving, I am treated to a story about beans. Apparently, during a recent Whole Foods shopping trip, friend’s husband decided he wanted a bag of a 15-bean mix from the bulk department. You know, the self serve section where you control the amount of product you buy?

Except, he had a slight issue with that concept and ended up with waaaaaay too many beans. So many beans he had a third of a gallon ziplock bag full leftover that he had no idea what to do with.

So, what’s a man to do who had already offered me bean soup with dinner (I thought he was joking) and whose wife had tisk-tisked the fact that they bought entirely too many beans and what are we going to do with all of these?!

I’ll give them away, he says.

As I was handed leftover lasagna to go, I also had a bag of beans shoved into my arms while I’m told of a great 15 bean soup to make and the husband saying, “See? I told you we’d get rid of them!”

Way to sell it, buddy. I’m super excited about this bag of beans, now.

My friend chimes in all, “Yah! I’ll send you the recipe! You can even put a ham cock in it!”

A……what?

I look at her and then look at her husband, who is looking at me like another plant pod had just exploded.

“Ham hock, honey. It’s ham HOCK.”

*****
And a footnote: I text her later all, “I was laughing about the ham cock all the way home.”

Her response?

Yah…I guess I don’t know my meat.

hula hooping

Guess what I dod this past weekend?

I totally hula hopped in Babies R Us.

While I was shopping for a myriad of things, Kellan and Tim were busy looking ridiculously cute doing this:

And then I saw them.

The hula hoops.

And they were just begging to be hulaed, you guys.

I used to be an excellent hula hooper….when I was probably seven.

I didn’t let that little fact and giant span of time stop me. I whipped one out and started trying to hula hoop in the middle of an aisle. Over and over and over. Hula hula hula…down to the floor. Hula hula…floor. Hula. Floor. Hula. Floor.

Kellan was staring up at me like whhhaaat are you doing??

Tim was all, “Judging by your face, that looks painful.”

Me, between attempts: It’s not painful! I’m concentrating!

Tim: Exactly.

End scene.

PS: I have zero hesitation to embarrass myself – and everyone around me – when there is a goal I want to accomplish. And yes, I did finally get the hip action rhythm down and successfully hula hoop.

PPS: If you want an amazing and cheap abdominal workout – buy a hula hoop. I guarantee you’ll feel it for days.

PPPS: Vote? Here is the link to his picture.

headaches and dreams and help

This zero ability to blog is really sad.

I am…really tired. My hormones are changing again…it happens every few months. I guess my body is trying to eventually ovulate? TMI, probably. I had to fend off a migraine on Saturday…thankfully I’m learning how to catch and knock them out while they are still a headache behind my eye…but that’s the warning flag. The pounding knife sensation in that location.

Don’t ask me why but 500mg of Tylenol and a plain Coke is what works. It’s kind of disgusting, but it gets the job done. And it has to be a plain Coca-Cola. Nothing else works. It must have some kind of secret ingredient because it is not just the caffeine…coffee doesn’t help me when it comes to migraines.

I can’t even believe I have to deal with migraines, period.

Oh! Random question. If you can remember, if you had dreams about having a baby before you got pregnant and in the dream, the baby ended up being a boy or a girl, did real life match the dream once you actually got pregnant and had your child? I’ve had two such dreams so far and each time the baby’s sex was the same….

Also? Huge favor?

Kellan has been entered into (yet another) photo contest. It’s a one week voting window, so I won’t have to bother you for very long…but it would be awesome of he won! The ultimate prize is getting on the cover of Parents magazine. That’d be neat. And I would have a reaaalllly long thank you card list…of you all voted.

Here is the link to his picture.

And just so you know, he’s definitely the cutest one. I already checked the competition.