Six Word Saturday

need a final Christmas cheer boost

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Want to play along? All that's necessary to participate is to describe your life (or something) in a phrase using just six words. For more information, try clicking here. Feel free to explain or not explain. Add an image, a video, a song, nothing. I love seeing what everyone does with their entries.

Each week (probably on Sunday or Monday), I use random.org to select a bunch of entries to visit.  Or I visit everyone. Or even numbered entries. Or odd numbered entries. Or multiples of three. Depends on what's going on that week.  In addition, please visit the person ahead of you on the list (or visit everyone if you like!). That way everyone receives at least one visit!

If you play along in your blog, please add a link to the Mr. Linky. I appreciate a link back (shiny code below if you like!). Otherwise, you're welcome to leave your six words in this post as a comment.

Please be sure to link either to your main page or (preferably) directly to the 6WS post. Links to blogs that do not contain a 6WS entry will be removed (sorry, just the button in the sidebar doesn't count as participating).

<a href="http://www.showmyface.com/search/label/6WS"><img src="http://i395.photobucket.com/albums/pp35/showmyface/guts/6wsButton.jpg" ></a>

Let Me Count The Ways...

...that this past weekend's trip went very wrong. Some bigger than others.

1. I was sick the night before (Thursday) due to anxiety
2. Friday 4am wake-up call finds Joe bleeding from his belly button
3. I bonk my head getting in the car on the way to the airport
4. We arrive at destination around 11am instead of noon (my mistake) so Joe has scheduled lunch w his father for a time when I've committed to work
5. I can't get my personal wifi to grab a signal from the car outside the lunch restaurant so I have to go searching for wifi
6. I make it to lunch an hour late - they're done eating so I start shoving food in my face, at which point Joe says he needs to go to Urgent Care for the belly button
7. Urgent Care puts stitches in Joe to stop the bleeding
8. I end up very sick with a puking migraine all night (that's two nights in a row of no sleep)
9. Can't get out of bed in the morning due to migraine, miss planned outing w family
10. Visit w family spoiled by my lack of ability to sit upright (can't play w kids)
11. Unable to enjoy the pizza we always order when we go home
12. Broke the zipper on my favorite travel bag
13. Joe busts his new stitches while playing with nephew, bleeding more than before
14. Speak with on-call doctor from appendix surgeon's office back home in undisclosed location, he advises we change our flights and come home Sunday rather than Tuesday because putting in those extra stitches was the wrong thing for the Urgent Care to do
15. Joe doesn't sleep the entire night because he's afraid of bleeding on our hosts' sheets (that's THREE nights in a row of no sleep)
16. Cost to change flight - $250 per ticket, long layover
17. Quick farewell tour that pisses off everyone so we can head back to the airport
18. Layover extended due to mechanical problems on second flight
19. No ground crew when we arrive at final destination means even longer delay
20. Joe's house keys have somehow fallen into a hole in his jacket and we can't get them out to unlock the house
21. I get spazzed by spiders trying to dig the emergency spare key out of the hidey spot

Also? I was supposed to be working the new gig all weekend and that went to hell. I'm so glad they are understanding. 

So, yeah. Not our best trip ever. There WERE good bits though and I'll maybe share those later. Or keep them for myself.

Joe will be fine but we have an appointment with the surgeon in a couple of hours. We both feel like hell physically and it sucks that we spent a boatload of money on a trip that we weren't able to enjoy and had to cut short. 

But we'll survive because it's what we do. The money sucks but it won't break us. And I'm happy for the time we DID get to spend with the kids/family, even if it was short and limited because we weren't feeling well. Also, when you feel like that, you just wanna be back to your own home - we slept well last night and I already feel less stress because we're back in our own world. As I told Joe last night, now we can work on fixing it all. 

Where's Cate?

I haven't been blogging much lately and while I don't really feel like I owe an explanation (it's MY blog!), I'm going to give one. Mostly because I need to reflect a bit.

The week before Thanksgiving, we were all wrapped up in Joe's possible job offer. Which he ended up turning down.

The week of Thanksgiving, Joe had an emergency appendectomy.

The week after Thanksgiving, Joe was still recuperating and we were slowly returning to normal.

Last week, I got a nasty stomach virus, which put me in the hospital with dehydration, and then afterwards I was (and still sorta am) dealing with the remnants of the stomach virus.

Which brings us to this week.

I'm still having some virus-related issues and I'm exhausted.

I'm completely behind on my holiday plans, which involved making a lot of gifts because that's more thoughtful than placing Amazon orders off wish lists. Not that there's anything wrong with that, just that it's not what I wanted to do this year. Only, since I lost the better part of 4 weeks, I'm running out of time. So last night we went shopping at Ten Thousand Villages and took care of most of the gifts we needed to buy. It seemed like a great compromise between buying plastic crap and just making charitable donations in our families' names since they are selfish bitches who want presents, dammit will not get a gift and we've supported fair trade and people in developing countries.

But mostly what I'm dealing with right now is a ridiculous amount of anxiety relating to medical bills. I'm glad we have access to healthcare. I'm glad we have insurance. I'm glad Joe and I are both recovering from our unrelated ailments. I'm glad he's made smart financial decisions that mean we'll be able to set up a payment plan and be okay. Still, realizing how much we might end up owing with both of us being sick within 2 weeks of each other is causing a big huge mental funk. Add to that the usual depression I feel around the holidays and my mind is a bit of a mess.

So where's Cate? I'm here, but I'm struggling. I'm getting through each day the only way I know how - a mix of working furiously through my to-do lists and hiding under the blankets. I haven't been blogging. I didn't visit any 6WS posts this week. I'm having trouble finding the joy of the season.

That's where Cate is right now. On the edge but hanging on with all her might. And talking about herself in the third person.

Why did I share this? It's not that I want a million comments full of pats on the head and sympathy. I just want to serve as a gentle reminder that there are people out there right now who are fighting. Depression this time of year - between the weather, lack of daylight, and holiday expectations - is a big deal. If you're suffering from it, know you are not alone and we WILL get through it. If you're fortunate enough to not be suffering a down time, you can do two things for me: be grateful for your blessings and be kind to those around you because we may not all be feeling so blessed.

Six Word Saturday

Remembering the lonely on December 25th

Whether you celebrate Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Festivus or just plain Saturday and whether you're separated by distance, disagreement, or death, I'm remembering those of us who aren't in the middle of a densely populated circle of love today. If someone or something is missing, my thoughts are with you.

Bonus Six Words (hey, tis the season for giving!):

Merry Christmas to you and yours

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Want to play along? All that's necessary to participate is to describe your life (or something) in a phrase using just six words. For more information, try clicking here. Feel free to explain or not explain. Add an image, a video, a song, nothing. I love seeing what everyone does with their entries.

Each week (probably on Sunday or Monday), I use random.org to select a bunch of entries to visit. In addition, please visit the person ahead of you on the list (or visit everyone if you like!). That way everyone receives at least one visit!

If you play along in your blog, please add a link to the Mr. Linky. I appreciate a link back (shiny code below if you like!). Otherwise, you're welcome to leave your six words in this post as a comment.

Please be sure to link either to your main page or (preferably) directly to the 6WS post. Links to blogs that do not contain a 6WS entry will be removed (sorry, just the button in the sidebar doesn't count as participating).

<a href="http://www.showmyface.com/search/label/6WS"><img src="http://i395.photobucket.com/albums/pp35/showmyface/guts/6wsButton.jpg" /></a>

The Numbers Game

This post is a rambly response to C. Beth's post today (Two is enough). She talks about the ages of her children and how she's really enjoying the level of development each has reached. Rather than feel baby fever, she's very content with the two adorable children she has been blessed to raise. She ended the post by asking how we feel about the number of kids we do or don't have.

Unless you're new here, you know that the number of kids I have is zero. It's complicated. I always wanted kids (probably two). Then I didn't want kids until later. Now that it's later, I just don't know anymore. My vision of what I do or don't want is clouded by emotional and physical issues that seem impossible to sort out.

That made me think about my experience growing up and the number of siblings I had.

I grew up as one of three children. I was the oldest by 5 years, with my brother and sister being only 2 years apart. For years, I was the spoiled only grandchild. Then came Rob and Tina.

I often felt left out as they played together. As the years passed, I then resented that since the "younger" kids were the majority, most of our activities were more age-appropriate for them. At 13, I was over Halloween. At 15, Chuck E Cheese wasn't my idea of a good time. By 16, I was tired of babysitting and dragging them around and being responsible for them.

This is why I think kids should come roughly in pairs. If there had been two older kids and two younger kids, it would've been okay. Of course, those of you who know me best know why that's an even bigger issue for me.

Here are some other reasons I believe two children is a good number:

• no more kids than you have hands to hold
• they shouldn't outnumber you and the other parent
• most homes have 3 bedrooms
• food items (and most everything else) come in even numbers (if there's an odd number, that means one for mama!)
• noone has to sit in the stupid middle seat in the car

So there, some random thoughts about kids, families, numbers, and product packaging. Go read Beth's post and let her know what you think.

Someday...

...I will learn not to engage.
...I will realize that you cannot logically reason with some people.
...I will give up that last shred of hope for her approval.
...I will tell the world what she did.
...I will really let it go enough that her words don't make me cry.
...I will find a way to overcome my initial reaction of disgust when I hear the word "mother".
...I will believe that just because my own mother doesn't love me doesn't make me unlovable.

...she will realize that her constant preaching has driven me away from church.
...she will learn that she can only rewrite history in her own mind.
...she will grasp her hypocrisy.
...she will face the fact that her narcissism has driven away those who should be closest.
...she will know that it's too late to fix it.
...she will understand that giving birth doesn't make someone a mother.
...she will regret it.

Someday.

Probably not today.

Mother's Day

This is not my favorite hallmarkday so I'm going to keep it brief.

To those wonderful mothers out there, I hope you have a lovely day and feel very appreciated.

To those of you who have great mothers, don't take that for granted. Not everyone does.

For those who want to be mothers, I hope your dreams come true, one way or another.

For those of you with difficult mother-situations, know that you are not alone. So knock back some tequila and celebrate yourself. Because once you drink enough tequila and you're upside-down on the floor, you'll realize that "mom" upside down is "wow". And that's awesome.

Playing Favorites

Yesterday afternoon, SomeMonkey was telling me about something one of her kids had done. I responded that this is why Child #3 is my favorite.

And that made me think. They say it's wrong to have a favorite child. It made me feel bad that her children #1 and #2 are not my favorites. Does she resent me for it? Was I being unfair? Rude?

But the thing is, they aren't my children so I guess it doesn't matter. Really, that works to my advantage - it's well-known that outside of my family, I'm the favorite. The smartest, the brightest, the most successful. Inside of my family, it's well-known that I'm the least favorite. The most rebellious, the coldest, the one that occasionally stands up to our mother's lying and narcissism. So it's to my advantage that people outside of the family are allowed to have favorites, especially if that favorite is going to be moi.

I'm sure that with time, SomeMonkey's Child #2 will be my favorite anyways. #1 and #3 are boys and eventually, boys are gross. Child #1 has already crossed that threshold and Child #3 has about two more years before he falls from grace. And then it's all about the girl.

Be warned, Child #2. Cate is coming for you.

Clarification about my "hypothetical baby"

Last night, I tweeted the following:

Also, in our hypothetical pregnancy, Joe wants it to be a surprise. And then he wants it to be a boy. Eww.

Then I went to bed.

This morning, I woke up to multiple tweets of this nature:

ZOMG babies? Did I miss something? Congratulations, you're having babies?!?!?!?111one!?!

Back that pony up!!! HYPOTHETICAL babies. As in we were watching a show (The Office) and there was baby-related content and we were talking about "someday, if WE ever have a kid, blah blah blah".

And Joe said that he wants the gender to be a surprise. But then he wants it to be a boy. Yuck. MY hypothetical baby is female. I like to tell him that I'll insist on naming her Gertrude and he won't be allowed to argue with me because I just carried this hypothetical baby in my belly for nine months.

But it's just a "maybe someday" baby. Unfortunately, when you're as screwed up in the head as I am, especially when it comes to mother-issues, it's just not as easy as it ought to be.

So settle down, folks, and cancel BabyWatch2010 for this uterus. No babies here!

Disgracebook

Recently, my mother signed up for Facebook. She started by choosing the most unflattering photo she could find as her profile image. It's like a scowling snarling mug shot. SO fitting. Next, she friended all of the people from her local church community. Then she started playing Farmville. Which I have on ignore.

me: my mother just emailed me to ask if i'm farmville on facebook
me: and i'm like - no, i don't play games on facebook
KarmaChameleon: o.O
me: "then what do you use it for?"
me: umm, stalking ex-boyfriends
me: DUH
KarmaChameleon: lmao

Other than Farmville and church friends, all she seems to do is comment on Joe's status. Not even my status. Just his.

Joe asked why she never updates her own status. I told him that all of the people she's friends with already know her status - it's called going to church for some reason every day and then everyone there is so in everyone's business that there's no need for Facebook.

It's all kinda creepy. I think some people shouldn't be allowed on Facebook. Pick a deity of choice and offer up a prayer or small offering if she ever gets a blog or Twitter account.

A Typical Cate-mas

Since I figure most everyone else is out and about doing their holiday* things, I'm just going to give you a quick peek into a typical Christmas at the House o' Cate.

First, we sleep in. Which for me might mean all of 8am this year if I'm lucky. Then we shower, dress, hair and make-up (for me, Joe's beauty is more au naturel), and then head downstairs.

Next, time for special Christmas breakfast. I consider this part of my gift to Joe because I'm not a huge eater of the breakfast but he absolutely loves it. This year, we'll be having Cranberry French Toast with Cranberry Syrup. Also, coffee and turkey bacon.

Then, finally it will be time for gifts. It could be as late as 11am by now. Which also is about the time my parents will call. At this point they've been up for hours, opened all of their gifts, had breakfast, and they're within an hour or so of putting their big Christmas meal on the table. Me, I haven't even opened their gifts yet. Sorry, I'll call back later!

NOW we'll open our gifts. We take our time, one for Joe, one for me. Sometimes, one for kitties. This year, they have four gifts: a bag of fishy treats, a ball with a feathery thing in it, a scratchy mat, and a solar-powered crystal that spins in the window when the sun shines on it which is really more for me but sometimes the cats also like to chase it. We also spend a lot of time throwing bows and ribbons and papers at the cats.

Later, we throw dinner in the oven. Today, prime rib roast w/ red wine gravy, mashed potatoes, rolls, yams, deviled eggs, and my French onion soup. Yeah, for two people. For dessert, Joe picked out eggnog cupcakes which Beth cursed just because she doesn't like eggnog so while they're tasty, the frosting never really stiffened up.

Eventually we resort to getting the cats high on catnip while we drink too much wine or bourbon or whatever else is around before falling asleep midway through a movie.

Isn't Christmas exciting with no children and a family who lives not nearly far enough far away?

I hope you all have a fabulous December 25th, whatever it is you are doing.




*I'm so politically correct I could totally barf all over my "registered independent" voter registration.

Age-appropriate gifts

With the upcoming holidays, I'm starting to spaz think about gifts. Everyone in our family is difficult to buy for and expectations are huge when it comes to their expectations from us. You know, because we both went to college and we don't have kids and we know how to manage our finances so we're not currently collecting any kind of social assistance. Yep, Joe and Cate, the rich ones.

Add to all that the idea of age-appropriate gifts for the nieces and nephews when we have no concept of what's proper really. My mother, who should've known better, bought my then 3-yo cousin a pocket knife for Christmas. His parents, who should've known better, let him play with it. I think it was barely February before we received a phone call that he had sliced apart the back of their new sofa. See, not age appropriate.

So we have his nephew (10), his niece (8), my nephew (1.5), my niece? (debuting in January). My niece will be easy and we'll probably just send a token small something since she's not here yet. I'm thinking we'll get my nephew some drums. Or an orange vest and some signs to go play in traffic. Hooker boots for Joe's niece, and maybe a cigarette case for his nephew. All good, right?

Or, we could take a page from my MIL, whom we lovingly appropriately refer to as FruitLoop. She just sent Joe his birthday gift in the mail. Here it is (excuse the lousy pic, Gwen was so unimpressed she was laughing and out of focus):

Yes, she sent him 77 cents. Because he was born in (wait for it) 1977. Age appropriateness at its best!

The only question is whether this is a belated gift or an early gift? His birthday is in late January. I received a definite "Happy Belated Birthday" card from her the next day (my birthday is nowhere near this time of year). No 78 cents though so I think I got screwed. She did call me her "Sunshine Catey" though. Yep, that's me. Sunshine. And Catey. With a Y. Maybe $1.65 was just too much for her to come up with all at once. I'll be on the lookout.

Is nothing sacred?

Yesterday, I received the following email. "Hi Cate! Your Mother added you as a friend on Facebook. We need to confirm that you know Your Mother in order for you to be friends on Facebook."

Ugh. Really? Admit in public that this woman gave birth to me?

Friend?!?!?

And she chose a photo that looks like a mug shot for some reason. I really don't need that staring at me every time I open the site.

Fortunately, I don't really use Facebook much. I use it more to stalk keep in touch with other people than I do to post intimate details or play games or whatever. That's because I realize in a professional capacity, I don't need people seeing that "Cate called in sick because she's hungover" or "Cate thinks her boss sucks at life". Mostly I post things like "Cate is running amok" or "Cate isn't allowed to play with fire" because that's way better.

Some of you were lucky enough privy to a Twitterbarf session about my mother a couple of weeks ago. The history is long and complicated but the less she infiltrates bits of my daily life, the better. Facebook isn't somewhere she needs to be.

Seeing her smiling face may have just ended my association with Facebook for good.

Anyone on Facebook that you feel like you can't not accept as a "friend" that you'd really rather just avoid altogether? What do you do?

The Ghost of Halloweens Past

One of my earliest Halloween memories was kindergarten. I was so excited to dress up and have our class party. And the day before? A class trip to the pumpkin patch!

Along with being one of my first Halloween recollections, it's also the first anxiety attack I can remember. While everyone else bounces in excitement over trips, I quiver and shake, terrified of being out of my comfort zone. Thankfully, this has gotten better with medication over the years. But at five years old, I didn't have the pills coping mechanisms I have today.

And I got so freaked out that I puked on the bus. On the stairs of the bus even. While everyone else was still waiting to climb off the bus. Which meant that all of my classmates had to go out the back exit.

Awesome. I was that kid.

I think I puked on every class trip up through high school. And you might as well include college because even though I was no longer taking class trips, Spring Break my freshman year is why I can't stand peaches (you spend a couple of hours barfing in the heavily peach-scented Georgia welcome center and tell me you'll ever eat peaches again).

Kindergarten Halloween is also one of my first memories of feeling inferior. See, everyone else had awesome homemade costumes. Their mothers had spent hours crafting ghosts and clowns and princesses and pumpkins. Me, I had a costume from Kmart. One of those cheap jumpsuits that smelled like a chemical spill. Solid-colored vinyl pants, a picture of the character you were supposed to be on the top, and a plastic mask that attached with a rubberband that always broke after 20 minutes which was just as well because you couldn't see out of it anyways.

To make it worse, there was only one other kid in the class wearing the dreaded lame plastic costume. Darren. The fat kid. AND? We had the same lame plastic costume. Papa Smurf. All of my friends in their beautiful princess and angel and fairy costumes and I was a plastic smelly man-Smurf. (Don't Google for Smurf costumes, btw. Terrifying blue adults. I gave up finding the Papa Smurf costume.)

As much as it made me feel pathetic not to have a "real" costume, life may have been even more traumatic the one time I remember my mother actually putting together a costume for me. It consisted of a black leotard with a tail sewn on the back, black stockings, ears on a headband and drawn-on whiskers.

Cute, right?

Except this was 5th grade. The year my body decided to start growing odd bumps on my chest. Bumps that I did my very best to conceal so my classmates wouldn't notice and wouldn't laugh at me. Bumps that could NOT be concealed in a leotard. Plus, this was New York - it was damned cold in late October to be running around practically naked! So I threw my pink winter coat on to keep warm and hidden. But then my legs were cold, leaving me to pull my jeans back on as well. And I was basically a girl with a weird tail sticking out between my jacket and jeans, whiskers, and cat ears. Like I didn't have a costume really at all, just a few lame accessories.

This year, I'm not dressing up. And I'm not handing out candy. We're going away (yes, again!) for the night and I plan to spend the evening hanging out in the hotel bar. That's right - the only thing going bump in the night? Will be me. Just the way I like it.

Things I Want Thursday

Things I Want Thursday is the brainchild of everyone's favorite Sass. For one reason or another, Thursdays haven't been convenient for me to play along and I don't want to take it upon myself to change her deal to "Things I Want Not-Thursday". So here I am.

The idea is that I tell you what I want. Then you tell me what you want and I laugh at you. It might be better if you go tell Sass what you want. Though Sass may prefer that you post it on your own blog with her adorable button.

1. I want to be healthy. Done with doctors. Done with tests. Done with medication. Done with co-pays.

2. I want to be successful at a couple of side projects so we can launch our own company and my husband doesn't have to work 80 hours a week for someone else.

3. I want to send my dad a spine for his birthday today so he can stand up to my mother.

4. I want to ban my mother from sending email to more than one recipient at a time and sending to me ever.

5. I want you to all please go play at my new site, 7 Days 7 Answers because I think you'll enjoy it.

6. I also want you all to play along with Six Word Saturday this week. I'm putting out a call for Spooky Six Words but it's not required to participate.

7. I want you all to know that I really appreciate you listening to me and supporting me and just being generally awesome.

That's all I've got. Tomorrow's post is about Halloween costumes and puking pumpkins. You won't want to miss it.

Mama Mia! (Updated)

Thunderbolt and lightning, very very frightening me!

So last night, we finished up our dinner and were chatting about something that seemed important at the time. It was storming outside and had been for awhile.

I was innocently stirring my tuna veggie noodle CRAP for lunch when KABLAM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Lightning, thunder, the whole house shook and all the little hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

There's an entire list of casualties already, the most important being both the upstairs and downstairs a/c units. We don't now if it's the entire units, just the thermostats, or something else. Since it's going to be 97° today, it would've been a good day for air conditioning!

Once we figure out the extent of the damage, we'll need to figure out who's going to pay for it. We have this thing from the power company that's basically a surge protector for the entire house. Yeah, lot of good that did. So maybe they can pay. Or maybe homeowners insurance can pay. Or maybe your rich Aunt Erma would like to pay. Should I start a charity auction of all the cat hair you can eat?

Speaking of that - I'm wondering is if there's any way I can claim it fried Tonya's brain. Maybe get a replacement model. This one is so defective. Beyond repair.

So sorry today's post isn't very entertaining - yet another night of no sleep (I should be used to that, right?) and to be honest, it's hard to find the funny when all I want to do is swear and punch things in the face.

Most importantly, we're all safe and the house didn't explode or catch on fire. It could've been so much worse. For that I'm grateful.

For up-coming dealings with service companies, insurance, and paperwork, I am not so grateful.

UPDATE: We have a/c again! Upstairs unit was an easy fix. Downstairs unit kinda has a bandaid that's working for now. We were planning on replacing it soon anyways. All repairs together so far = $550, well below our $1000 deductible. And the power company protection thing doesn't cover any circuit boards (which is what's fried, of course). Good thing our money tree is doing well this season!

SWYMM: Overheard on vacation edition

Just a few tidbits from the past week.

For those of you just joining us, the cast includes:

• me
• Joe
• Mother
• Dad
• Rob (brother)
• Rochelle (SIL)
• Tina (sister, 2 mos pregnant)
• Dan (BIL)
• Collin (14 mo nephew)

And apparently either we're all hard-of-hearing or suck at listening.

Dad: Let's give Collin a flavor-ice by the pool.
Rob: A flea dip? In the pool?

Rob: You're not Roch.
me: I'm not rich? What?

Mother: Collin would like a little cousin Aunt Cate!
me: And I'd like another beer.

Collin: yabba blah blah EEEEEE gah gah!!!!

Dad: Cate's mother has really let herself go. And become a total pain in the ass.
Joe: Uh...

While playing Uno:

Dan (seated between me and Tina): Haha, I'm totally nailing Cate.
Rob: Wrong sister.

Cards reverse direction of play:

Dan: Ha, now I'm totally nailing Tina!
Rob: That would explain why she's knocked up.

Really smooth, my family.

But can he fold my laundry?

Today, I call out for your help. After realizing how right you all were about the xanax, I now know what a valuable resource I have in my bloggy buddies.

First, I do sorta apologize. I try to at least alternate topics around here but I know the last few have been related to the upcoming trip. I apologize for lack of diversity but:

• A. It's my blog
• 2. It's probably not going to change any time soon
• iii. It's my blog!

So, sorry, and yet, not really.

On to the call for help.

Clueless Aunt Cate doesn't want to appear completely clueless. I'm looking for a bit of schoolin' on two relevant (to me) topics:

• The behavior of women two months pregnant
• Fourteen-month old humans

What do they do? What do they eat? Can they talk? (That's about the baby, not the pregnant woman). Is he able to fetch me a drink? I'd keep the drink requests simple so he doesn't have to do much mixing. I know he walks, recognizes (and hates) "no", isn't potty-trained, and hates being at all restrained. He also tries to wave but it comes out very "heil Hitler!".

As for the pregnant woman, is that the barfing/napping/peeing stage? (Juliet, I've been following your blog as a study guide). Are there certain things she can't eat? Like, I'm not going to spike her drink with alcohol or xanax anymore but I just have no idea.

Yes, I realize I'm asking you to generalize, which I generally hate (HA! See what I did there?). Every child and every pregnant lady is different. But, overall, I'd appreciate some input!

Help me not to give myself away as the ignorant soul I truly am.

My first time

Another gem from the family vault today. Over there on the right, I've added a handy countdown clock to the start of our family adventure so you can properly prepare to pity me.

Most people remember certain firsts - first kiss, first job, first car. I think "first gray hair" is one that most folks recall, even if they'd rather not.

My first gray hair was discovered a few years back. It was the day of my brother's college graduation. Already feeling anxious due to travel and proximity to my mother, the hot weather was only adding to my discomfort. While the crowd around us was showing the usual sense of decorum at this important event, my mother was loud and obnoxious, drawing attention to herself in negative ways. This, for her, is the norm.

It was during the long and boring inspirational and fascinating commencement address by some dude I've never heard of a visionary leader that I felt a sharp pull at the side of my scalp, accompanied by "Ooooh, my daughter has a gray hair, I found a gray hair! She's only 27 and she has gray hair!". All the while waving the hair around for anyone nearby to see.

I wanted to die, of course. Or at least punch her in the face. Thankfully, with the outdoor setup, my brother was blissfully unaware of my mother's outburst.

As for me, I bit my tongue, even when she asked if I wanted to keep it. I only said "no thanks". But what was in my head was "it's fitting you found it because you sure as hell caused it!".

P.S. As I said, that was a few years ago. I haven't found any gray hairs since only really blonde hairs that are natural highlights, right?. Until recently. Coincidence that I'm finding a few grays now, with family vacation looming? I think not.

P.P.S. Can anyone recommend a decent at-home product for covering silvers (because silver sounds so much sexier than gray, sorta like that hot Silver Fox Anderson Cooper, rawr!)? Must be easy to use because I'm an idiot. My other hairs are brownish, if that matters.

Step One in Family Vacation Planning

Twenty-two days until vacation! To make sure you are all able to feel adequate sympathy for me when the time comes, I'm going to be sharing several family-focused posts in advance of vacation.

Preparations for family vacation have officially begun. As any over-anxious freak sane person me would tell you, the first step in gearing up for family fun is to visit the doctor for refills of important prescriptions. Like Lexapro.

Since I've now been on Lexapro since October and it's completely saving my sanity (not to mention my marriage), the doctor felt comfortable offering me the option to switch to a similar medication that is available in a generic to also be saving me some cash.

I totally support the idea of saving me some cash. I'm a big fan of that. However, she also said sometimes the generic isn't quite strong enough and there can be a period of adjusting the dose to find the appropriate level. With that in mind, I asked her if I could first have another 30 days of actual Lexapro before we start playing around with my ability to not kill people meds. I expressed my concerns over family vacation, citing 7 days (and nights!) under one roof with my parents and siblings as the biggest test of my sanity EVER.

Dr V agreed that it was not a good idea to play with my brain under those circumstances. We talked some more about the stress of the trip and time with my family given the fact that we have almost nothing in common except DNA and I'm 98% certain I'm adopted. She encouraged me to have some responses ready for topics that might come up and asked for an example. I told her about "baby" sister and her little guy leading to questions about when I'll have a child of my own. My doctor encouraged me to shed a tear and just break down in hysterics so they'd drop the subject. I told her if I really wanted to shut them up, I should tell them we're considering adopting from China since they are horrified by "foreigners".

It was at that point she jokingly offered me Xanax. And I laughed and said "probably not a bad idea".

We moved along to discuss my other meds and she printed out prescriptions for what I needed. When she went over them with me, not only had she refilled my meds for my allergies, my reflux, my migraines, and my Lexapro, but she did give me a supply of Xanax.

Sometimes it scares me how quick my doctor is to hand out meds. But in this case, I think it's interesting that discussion about my family has made a medical professional feel chill pills are necessary. My only question is - the prescription is for 20 pills. That should take care of move-in day but what am I supposed to do for the rest of the week?

P.S. Despite the fact that I often make light of my medications, I do take them responsibly and encourage everyone else to do the same.

P.P.S. If anyone has any experience going from Lexapro (10mg) to Celexa (or its generic specifically), I'd love to know how it worked for you. Same with any experiences with Xanax - I'm wondering if I should try a dose before the trip, just to know what I'm dealing with (she prescribed .25mg and said I should try half a pill first). If you're not comfy leaving a comment, please email me at showmyface at gmail dot com.