Because that would be better than the morning I had. Picture it now...enter dream sequence...que the wavy lines and bloop bloop bloop sound effects...

It's 5:45 am. I am sleeping. I am not a morning person. I get up at the. last. possible. moment. I don't enjoy having coffee whilst reading the newspaper, and I sure as hell don't get up for an early morning jog. So there I am, comfortably slumbering when I hear the most annoying, high pitched, WHINE coming from the dog...who is in the kitchen...stuffing her whining nose in the crack of the doorway to our bedroom. Apparently she wants in to sleep on the bed. Wonder who started allowing THAT bad habit while I was in California last month? Any guesses?

I begrudgingly got up to let the stinking ass whiner in the bed.

I snuggled back under the covers, noticed that it was now 5:55, and said a small thank you to God for the hour more sleep I'd get before it was time to get up for the day. To what do my wondering ears do I hear? Nora rustling around in her bed...potentially moments away from waking up. Most likely she heard the damn dog whining, too.

Know who didn't hear the dog? The man that allows the dog to sleep in our bed in the first place. The man who was oblivious to the rustling around of the child. The man who was now snoring in my face. Very loudly.

Fan-Freaking-Tastic.

Now the dog is sprawled out in our bed...pushing me so far to the side that one butt cheek is hanging off. Nora is rustling around on the baby monitor. And my ears are being assaulted by the snores of a thousand snores. Oh yeah, and the cat's in the kitchen bitching because she wants fed...since we're all awake for the day and all.

I forcefully grabbed my blanket and pillow to head to the couch. That did nothing to wake the dog or the husband. I stalked out of the room with one last goodbye to the dog...the one that started it all. It went something like this...

Dog. I'm gonna rip off your head and take a shit down your neck.

Did I mention I'm not a morning person? Yeah. I thought so.

Posted by Courtney at 7:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

At the store today:

Ooooh. That Mildew Cleaner with Bleach is on clearance for $1.99. That stuff is usually four bucks. I should totally buy that for Larry.

Yeah, cause I'm such a thoughtful wife like that. Wait until you see the really cool dish towels I'm gonna get him for his birthday this year!

Posted by Courtney at 2:08 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

You know you're no longer single and therefore have no one to impress, when:

It's Friday night and you're snuggled in a blanket (bra-less, of course) on the couch watching a tivo-ed Dr. Phil episode at 8pm...thankful that the baby is asleep...and that your husband doesn't want to use the TV to watch baseball...knowing full well that you'll both be asleep by 10pm. And you know what? You don't care. In fact, topping it off with a slice of that red velvet cake in the fridge makes it the perfect evening ever.

Posted by Courtney at 8:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

What does one do when the fifteen-month-old refuses to eat her dinner? Why, serve up some cake, of course! At least it's a healthy-ish cake. It's one of those Jello poke cakes. Want the recipe? Simple. Make a white cake (use a mix and follow the directions on the box...trust me it'll save you a ton of time). Once it's cooled, make one package of Jello according to the directions on that box. Any flavor will work...I used black cherry. Poke holes in the cooled cake (kids will love to help with this part). Pour the Jello over the top of the cake. Refrigerate for at least 4 hours. Top with Cool Whip. I made the cake with the low cholesterol directions, used sugar free Jello, and used fat free Cool Whip...that way I'd feel a billion times less guilty when I had two pieces instead of one. And now, without further delay...Nora eating her cake dinner:

Posted by Courtney at 8:08 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The email I just received from my husband, who is at work right now:

"I just took a poop that would make a landfill rat throw up. HOE-LEE SHIT was it nasty. The hallway smells horrible and I even used the spray (which goes against all of my manly instincts). I wish I could have done this at home so you could have enjoyed it too. Oh well. Maybe next time."

I love you, too, Dear.

Posted by Courtney at 11:06 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I signed up for an indoor cycling class at our local rec center. I've been going to the rec center about four days a week for the past month. Trying to lose that "baby fat", which, let's be honest is really pre-baby fat caused by terrible eating habits. Add to that the fact that I have some jeans from the summer after high school that are super cute (and expensive because I could drop $50 on a pair of jeans back then since I didn't have real bills to pay) that I want to wear again. After worshiping the stair-master for four weeks I felt like I needed something more...shall we say...structured. I prepaid for the classes so I wouldn't go to one class and quit. It's a four week class that meets once a week. I see why it only meets once a week. You will, too, by the time you finish reading this. The first class was canceled because we had a blizzard last Saturday. I must admit I was a little relieved. I was all, "well I was supposed to go to a cycling class but it was canceled...aww shucks..." Really I was thinking, "Thank GOD for that blizzard...one more week of sleeping in on Saturday morning." Did I mention the class is at 8:30. That's 8:30 AM. On Saturdays.

Today was my actual first class. Allow me to clear up a few misconceptions and possibly set the record straight about cycling classes:

1) Even though it looks like the people inside are KILLING themselves, no one dies in cycling class. At least not in the one I was at today.

2) Anyone, no matter their size, shape, or age can take a cycling class. You don't have to be super fit or Lance Armstrong to cycle. You set your own pace. Go as slow (or fast, if you're a crazy bitch) as you like.

3) Don't try and keep up with the crazy bitches that are going super fast. This is not their first class. Some of them (the extra crazy ones) take this class two to three times A WEEK. These are the ones that wear padded bicycle shorts and sit in the front row of bikes.

4) When the instructor says, "your first class is going to be the worst...you'll probably want to quit...you might feel like you're going to die...but you should keep coming...it gets easier." She's telling the truth. At least about the first class being the worst. And that whole you might feel like you're going to die part...she's telling the truth about that, too. I can't say if it gets any easier or not since this was my first one.

5) When the instructor says, "after the first class you're going to be a little saddle sore," what she means is your ASS IS GOING TO HURT. Like two seconds into your 45 minute class you'll be wishing you were giving birth...because THAT didn't hurt your va-jay-jay and ass NEARLY as much as sitting on that bike seat. You'll see why Susie Cylcles-A-Lot, the crazy bitch in the front row that's actually enjoying herself, wears those padded shorts.

6) Standing up on the bike to relieve the pain in your, ahem, nether regions will help. It will also kill your legs. So throughout the class (did I mention that it's 45 minutes long?) you must constantly decide, "Do I want my crotch to hurt or my legs to hurt?" I opted to switch back and forth...giving equal pain opportunity to both my crotch and legs. They appreciated it.

7) Ignore the clock. If you keep checking the time, that 45 minutes is going to seem like 45 HOURS.

8) Your legs will feel wobbly after you get off the bike. That's normal. Perfect excuse to rest your sore butt in one of those nice cushy chairs they offer to change your shoes. If it takes an hour to change your shoes, don't let them kick you out of the stuffed chair. Tell them you like to pace yourself when undoing your laces.

All of that being said, I am returning for next week's class...they already have my money so I may as well. Afterwards the instructor asked how it went. I smiled and said, "well I'm still breathing." She took that to be a good sign. I also told her that I sure as hell won't feel guilty when I eat those cookies I made last night. A few of the crazy bitches even got a kick out of that one.

PS: I totally had McDonald's for breakfast on the way home from class. You can take the girl to the gym...but you can't make her eat healthy all the time. Now...where did I put those cookies?!

Posted by Courtney at 10:35 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Remember when I sarcastically proclaimed that cleaning up dog poop with a bag with a hole in it made my day? I lied. Flat out. Because this certainly tops it:

Now that. That made my freaking week. The shit of it all? The house insurance pays to fix the carport. The car insurance pays to fix the car. Two deductibles. I tried arguing that it's the fault of the house that the car was damaged, therefore the repairs to the car should fall into the jurisdiction of the house insurance. No go. The lady agreed with me that it sucks...but pretty much said that's just tough.

Also, to the people who owned this house before us and likely put up the cheapest option in carports when THIS VERY SAME THING HAPPENED TO YOU WHEN YOU LIVED HERE:

Posted by Courtney at 8:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Things are still functioning around here...just thought I should let you know. Larry and I are working on a redesign of this site (and an official transfer to my new web address) that will hopefully be up and running by the end of this coming week. Do you hear that, Dear? A week. Quit writing recipes about cooking a bald eagle (found at http://www.aboutlarry.com) and get to working on my redesign. Please and thank you.

I am also gathering information about starting a nar-anon meeting in my area. It's like al-anon but offers support for people who have an addict (instead of an alcoholic) in their family. I went to my first nar-anon meeting last night and found it to be unstructured and not quite what it's "supposed" to be...plus it was an hour drive. I sent for some materials and am eagerly awaiting their arrival. Maybe I can help other people that are like me...and find some people that can help me, too.

In other cool and exciting news, Nora has taken unassisted steps! She doesn't do it all the time yet. She's very cautious and takes slow deliberate steps...usually five or so at a time. Once she realizes she's walking (or that you are trying to coax her to walk) she gets down and crawls away. Here are a few videos of her walking attempts. (The first one turns sideways because while I was taping I realized I was cutting off her head...so I turned the camera...not thinking that it would mean turning my head sideways to view the damn thing.)

Posted by Courtney at 11:06 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Know what makes my day? Cleaning up the dog poop and discovering halfway through that the bag has a hole in the bottom. Freaking nice.

Posted by Courtney at 1:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Since the day I found out I was going to be a big sister, I've taken the job very seriously. From changing your diapers to helping you with algebra homework...all of it has gone by so fast. And so I want to share some things that I will never forget:

1) The time you busted in your front teeth when you had an Oreo cookie in your mouth. Seriously, chocolate wafer, cream, and blood? Not a pretty sight.

2) I once convinced you that Santa was real by saying, "Come on. Do you think Mom and Dad can actually afford the stuff he buys us?" To which you replied, "You're right. They couldn't."

3) When you were about 8 or so and you turned down riding bikes with your friends because you, "promised [your] sister [you'd] make cut out cookies today."

4) Our tradition of sleeping in my bed the night before a big event...vacations...Christmases...Thanksgivings...Fourth of July. We'd lay there talking about what ever tomorrow's big day was. What did we think Santa was bringing us? How early should we wake Mom and Dad? How we couldn't wait to see the sand dunes of Michigan and go swimming in the pool. That was some serious fun...mostly because it was our thing only. Of course when I was 18 and you were 11 we were both a little leggy for my twin bed...then one of us (usually you) slept on the floor. It didn't matter as long as we were together!

5) How strange it felt to ride as a passenger in a vehicle you were driving.

6) The nights I would wake you up to sleep in my room because it was storming outside. You didn't seem to mind the storms...I hated them. I'd say, "if you're scared and you want to sleep in my room, you can." You'd sleepily reply that, no, you weren't afraid. Somehow I'd con you into leaving your warm bed to sleep in my room...on the floor nonetheless. I can't believe you put up with that!

7) The time you asked Mom what pubiter was because you overheard me saying I couldn't wait until your voice changes when you hit puberty.

8) The nights you stayed with me while Larry was in jail. Thank you for that. It was more comfort than you know.

9) When you declared that you knew why I had a flannel bra...that it was to keep my hooters warm.

10) The less than pretty times after Nora was born...when you had to see my butt at the hospital and my boobs while I was trying to learn to nurse her. You totally didn't mind that. You will make an awesome husband someday!

11) The many times you'd go with me...anywhere...just to ride along in the car. Like the time we went all the way to North Olmsted to get Mom's Christmas gift...that turned out to be something she already had.

12) When you were little you looked up to me so much that if I said something was cool, then that was good enough. A shirt you didn't like? If it got the big sister seal of approval then you'd wear it all day!

13) The nights that you told Mom you'd wait for me to do your homework with you because, "Courtney isn't confusing like you are." Man, that made me feel cool!

14) When you found out that we don't have the same Dad and you said, "it doesn't matter to me because you're my sister no matter what."

15) Your middle school project that you needed a condom for. I can't even remember what class it was for...but I remember driving you to a gas station and sending you in the bathroom. I told you that it was your project, you could go in and get it. And you cackled like a hyena the whole way home because the idea of having a condom in your hands was just too much.

16) The time we took that "wounded" bird to Back to the Wild...only it recovered on the way. Remember that little bastard? He bit you and flapped around in my car. That wasn't funny at the time...but it sure is now!

17) The morning we chased Nakita all over town because she was chasing a deer. That was some funny stuff! I've never seen you get dressed and out of the house so quickly. Hmm...I'll have to remember that the next time I want to get you out of bed. I'll just tell you the dog is chasing a deer.

18) The times you came to me for advice. About school. About Mom and Dad. About girls. About anything. I like that you knew you could trust me. I hope you know that I have always had your best interests in mind. I have always stood up for you. I have always tried to protect you.

I'm proud of you, Little Brother. You're thoughtful, caring, loyal, trustworthy, and smart in ways I never will be. One day you'll have kids of your own and I'll be telling someone, "oh, my little brother...". Every time I say that I stop and think. Because the little kid that used to call me Sissy is now my height...growing chin hair...and eighteen years old. Happy Birthday, Buddy!

Posted by Courtney at 6:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

1) It is possible for Nora to sleep sprawled out in my Mom's lap...on an airplane where there are five hundred thousand people to make goofy faces at.

2) It is not possible for me to sleep on an airplane because I can't stop thinking that we're going to crash.

3) My aunt's friend's boyfriend masturbates everyday in the shower.

4) There is nothing more fantastic than hearing a squeal of pure joy come from my daughter's mouth as she's flying down the hills of San Francisco, in her Dora stroller, with her arms spread out like airplane wings...just catching the breeze.

5) It is possible and completely acceptable to eat lunch everyday at La Canasta, the world's best Mexican take out restaurant. Really, those burritos are the only reason I would risk my life boarding an airplane.

6) An informal poll at my birthday party found that four out of six women pee in the shower. Speculation is that the other two were probably not telling the truth.

7) Another informal poll (that was conducted after Grandma went to bed) found that the majority of men do not prefer "hairy muffs"...even though that same poll revealed that a few women in the room were falsely under the impression that they do.

8) Going pee after a bikini wax hurts a million times more than the entire waxing procedure.

9) It is impossible to discuss your bikini wax in front of your Grandmother without feeling a little strange.

10) It is possible to wake a nine-month-old baby by rustling the covers on the bed that is in the room you're sharing with her. But she will, apparently, not wake up when six women in the house are laughing and carrying on about bikini waxes and peeing in the shower.

11) During a phone conversation with someone over 2000 miles away, one can hear the embarrassment of a husband who has forgotten that it's his wife's birthday.

12) A grown man can sit on a bench, dressed like any other normal grown man in a flannel shirt and jeans, with perfectly manicured...red polished...fingernails. And the only people who will look at him funny are the mid-western tourists. One of those tourists might even secretly snap his picture.

Posted by Courtney at 10:29 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

An early morning trip to Walmart for baby formula took Mom, Nora, and me down the pad and tampon aisle. Nora needed pads...seriously, I told you she had a tooth come in a month ago...next thing you know she's on her period. As we turn the corner I see a guy, probably in his mid thirties, on a cell phone. As a few more women round the other corner and head his direction, which is directly in front of the pads, he starts to look increasingly embarrassed...and is possibly blushing a little. This is his end of what appeared to be the most uncomfortable conversation he's ever had in Walmart:

Okay...I'm looking...did you want...hold on...carefree? Um...still... oh...staaaayfreeee alright I found...them...yeah the package is blue...um...now do you want wings? Alright....like the overnight? Uh...um....

Honestly, my dad won't even go to the store to get a loaf of bread...and here's this guy on the cell phone making damn sure he's got the right pads. Either his woman is one hell of a PMSer and he's afraid of her...or he's a really sweet guy. Some men I know...if they were to even venture down the tampon aisle alone...would just grab the first package of pads they get to...which means they would probably end up with Depends instead of feminine napkins. It takes a special breed of man to stand amongst the pads and tampons calling his woman to get every tiny detail of the exact pads she uses. Now that is true love.

Posted by Courtney at 10:59 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Why is it that your hair co-operates and does exactly what you want it to...on the day you're getting it cut because you just. can't. stand. it. anymore. It's like a child that doesn't want to get beat...all whiny...like, "Don't cut me. Pleeeease dooooooon't. I'm beeeeeeeing-haaaaaaave. I promise I won't act up again." So you cancel the appointment, because, who needs a haircut with such perfectly performing hair? And then. The next day it does NOTHING that you want it to, and looks like crap. All thumbing it's nose at you...like, "Ha. You totally fell for that line of bull." Just like a kid. Well, you know what? I'm not falling for that #### again. You and me, hair. Twelve o' clock, noon. You're getting cut. I don't care how good you promise to be tomorrow.

Posted by Courtney at 8:30 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Spammers in my comments...oh how I enjoy that. I've had to make it so that comments have to be approved before they're uploaded to this site because of comment spammers. Big pain in the ass, they are. Always trying to sell me drugs, boner pills, mortgages, a dead chicken's house.

I've never felt the need to comment on the comments, because I'm fairly certain that it won't help. Also, I heard a rumor that once they've successfully ruined the contents of my comments they'd move on to the fridge and spoil my milk and cheese...after that the evil spam commenters will throw toys all over in my living room...dirty up all of my laundry and dishes...and impregnate my seven month old daughter. Let's just say that they've already spoiled my dairy, messed up my living room, and dirtied up my laundry. So yeah, talking about them here is probably going to put Nora at risk of becoming pregnant...which will make me very rich when I sell her baby to the tabloids for a half a gazillion dollars. When I move up outta this trailer park, don't nobody wonder why.

This comment I got spammed with was too funny not to mention. It came from yagirl NoRa. How strange...it came from someone that has almost the same name as my daughter...weird. This 'yagirl NoRa' has an email address of NoRaThEeXpLoRa@ghettobabies.com. Again, strange...Larry calls Nora, Nora the Explora but I'm pretty sure the spammers aren't living in my house...unless they are the ones dirtying up my laundry. Also, Nora lives in a mobile home...but it is most certainly NOT in the ghetto. And now, for the text of the comment:

i got bibs in my crib, sweet pees with a lid
hid my eggs, scrambled
in my dads big damn sandels
the nickTOONS channel, all day every day,
flippin threw, makin poo, lovin it anyway
huggin me everyday, gettin crunk off my bottles
full throttle, i dont walk...i pimp waddle
like america's top model but i eat a little more
tellin dora the explorer to go in the middle door
i got eggs on my head, but dont call me an egg head
legs on my head, but dont call me a leg head
so if you are eating some mushed black-eyed peas
then you might know how to pimp like me

Sweet pees with a lid? And how do they know Nora's dad has big damn sandels? I will have to admit that the makin poo all day part is accurate. The pimp waddle? Not exactly...although she does have a rhinestone thong she wears under her diaper on special occasions.

This...this is the bullshit that gets sent to me. This is the reason for comment monitoring. And, today, this comment is the reason I peed my pants. I hope it gave you a laugh, too.

Posted by Courtney at 2:34 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Vase: $38 at Pier 1 (Wedding Gift)
Water: Approximately $.85
Husband Purchasing Roses Without Prompting and for No Reason: Priceless

Posted by Courtney at 4:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Makeup is something I'm just getting interested in...actually I should say expensive and fabulously wonderful makeup is something I'm just getting interested in. Since I live with my parents I've been using my Mom's various potions and lotions. $40 foundation. $25 eyeshadow. $20 mascara. $30 lipsticks. $50+ brushes. You know what? Price really makes a huge difference. This is a perfect example of getting what you pay for. Scratch that. This is a perfect example of using what your Mom pays for. Anyhow, when getting ready yesterday morning I was perusing her stash. Take a look:

Now I'm no makeup guru or anything...but I'm pretty sure that orange Sharpie is waaaaaay too bold of an eyeshadow or lipstick...and I'm fairly confident that it does nothing for the dark circles under her eyes...

Posted by Courtney at 8:56 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Nora got a swing for the outside swing set this week. This meant a trip to Toys R Us...seems they're the only store in the neighboring four counties that have outside baby swings. We quickly found the swings but decided to take a trip through the very tiny baby section while we were there. That would be the section is small...it's not like they only have things for very tiny babies...anyhow...it was a tad past dinner time and I was starting to get famished. Luckily for me there was help in sight! The snack shelf by the registers was stocked full. I searched for a healthier alternative to a candy bar...partially because I'm trying to eat better...and partially because I knew that I wanted to have ice cream later and thought I might feel less guilty if I had a healthy snack. I found the perfect thing...animal crackers...they are fat free, you know. I toss them next to the baby swing to be rung up...assuring my mom that Nora wanted them. We weren't even out of the parking lot and I was tearing into the box. Do you KNOW how many animal crackers are in a two ounce box? Well?!? DO YOU?!? Four. Precisely four. Who the hell eats only four animal crackers at a time? The only thing that would've pissed me off more is if it had been my sixty five cents that bought them. Then. Then there would've been a fight between me and that damn giraffe. As it is he should consider himself warned...you hear me Geoffrey? Who spells Geoffrey with a G anyway? A stupid talking giraffe, that's who. Seriously, Geoff...I'm watching you...start putting more crackers in that box...or at the very least start making them with crack...at least that would justify the cost...

Posted by Courtney at 8:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

If hitting her would make her stop crying, I'd totally do it right now...because I just cannot stand to listen to her cry for one more second. That is the scariest thought that ever entered my head. That is the thought that crept into my mind two weeks ago. That is the moment that I realized I had felt this way before. That is the moment that I called my doctor to get help. Who wants to hit their three month old baby? For crying, no less. Who feels this way?

I was so proud of myself because I wasn't one of them...you know...one of those moms that needed mental help. I wasn't included in the statistics that say a majority of women suffer from postpartum depression after giving birth. Not me. Never needed help with depression before. In fact, I'm the caretaker. I take care of Larry. I take care of Nora. I try hard to take care of my friends and family. Certainly I didn't need help. How arrogant of me. And how stupid that I didn't speak up sooner about how I was feeling. It didn't sneak up me. My feelings of hitting Nora to make her stop crying had seeped into my mind before...but I thought I could control them myself. After all, I control everything else so well.

I wasn't going to hurt Nora. I wasn't going to hit her. At least I wasn't going to do that on purpose. I was able to stop myself from acting on my thoughts...but I didn't like feeling that way. I didn't want to feel that way. I also wasn't sure how long I could keep pushing those thoughts out of my head. I couldn't guarantee that I would walk away when the crying became too much. I didn't trust that if I felt frustrated again I would handle her as gently as I should. I'm not a person that has a lot of patience, and the stress of things just became too much. I wasn't enjoying my time with Nora. I wasn't having fun being her Mommy. Everything was work. Feeding her...dressing her...playing with her...all of it just sucked. I've never felt so overwhelmed in my life. I had so many responsibilities with Larry being in jail...on top of working part time and taking care of Nora.

I remembered the nurse that ran our birth class telling us about PPD. I could clearly hear her say, "Girls, if you're not feeling right you need to tell your doctor. There's nothing to be ashamed of. Plenty of women need help and you need to ask for it if you need it." Those words ran through my head like a broken record for the few days leading up to my moment of clarity that Monday afternoon when I had to tell myself that hitting her would in no way make her stop crying. I kept thinking, I'll call...I'll get around to it one of these days. Larry must have been able to hear my feelings even though I didn't voice them to him, because he encouraged me to call the nurse. Truthfully, I was going to call that day anyhow...but it was good of him to insist on it...he recognized the problem without my having to say a word. And honestly, he probably would've called for me had I tried to put it off.

My doctor called in a prescription for Zoloft within an hour of my call to the nurse, and I started it that day. That was eleven days ago. Even though it takes up to four weeks to take full effect, I notice myself feeling better already. I'm much calmer. Things don't piss me off so much anymore. I don't feel like I'm hanging on by a thread that's about to break. The sky is clearer now. I'm not exhausted from stress. But the absolute best part? I love and appreciate my time with Nora. I have the patience to handle the crying. I can comfort her when she can't fall asleep. I don't even mind so much that she's waking up in the middle of the night again. I snuggle and play with her because it's fun and not because I have to. I am starting to feel like myself again, and I'm a better Mommy for it.

Posted by Courtney at 8:39 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Conversation in the Wal Mart parking lot this afternoon:

Me: I can take that cart for you.

Other Wal Mart patron: Oh...okay...that's fine.

Me: Thanks. (as I loaded Nora into the cart and started to head towards the door)

OWMP: (calling after me) What did you think of all that nice weather we were having? Sure miss it today, huh? I'd like it to be 60 degrees again instead of this rainy and cold weather we're having today.

What I said: Um. Yeah.

What I wanted to say: Hey Willard Scott...it's rainy and cold...like you said...and I have a baby that I'm trying to get inside the building. So frankly, I don't give a s.h.i.t about the weather...I just want your freaking cart..."

Like my grandma always says...they can't get you for what you're thinking...
*wink*

Posted by Courtney at 8:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Spelling my name to a woman who was shipping something to me:

"Courtney Long. L-O-N-G."

"R-O-"

"No. L. L as in...you know, L..."

Posted by Courtney at 8:32 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Laziness is peeing in the shower so you don't have to change the toilet paper roll.

Karma is having the toilet paper roll still be empty when you go back to use the bathroom...leaving you to end up having to change the damn thing anyway.

Posted by Courtney at 1:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Tuesday was the big day...the day of Larry's sentencing. If you don't know what I'm talking about, read this post and part 2 here. Monday was pretty terrible, as you can imagine. I spent the day feeling like everything was being done for the last time for a while...the last time we'd go out for lunch...the last time Larry and Nora would have a bath...the last time he'd read her a bedtime story. I shed many tears here and there throughout the day...just the thought that we'd be going to court the next day and that I'd likely be coming home without Larry was enough to send my emotions all over the place. I was more sad at the idea that he'd be missing out on Nora's life than anything. We were, of course, preparing for the worst. The attorney told us to plan for prison time...not to expect anything less.

After a restless night's sleep, we woke up pretty early on Tuesday. I got Nora ready to go to the sitter's house because the lawyer thought she'd be a distraction and wanted us to leave her home. I had her all dressed and ready to go and Larry carried her to the car so my mom could take her to Erica's house. I stayed inside crying my eyes out...this would most likely be the last time he'd see her for a while...and even then it'd be behind glass on visitation day. I don't know how he made it through the morning without crying...but I guess I was enough of a basket case for both of us.

We picked up Larry's friend Mike, who along with another friend, Bob, was speaking to the judge on Larry's behalf. The tension in the air in the car was terrible. I felt bad that neither of us were chitty chatty...I was too busy concentrating on how difficult the next hour (or year) was going to be. Making sure not to be late, we arrived at the courthouse fifteen minutes early and began the longest wait of our lives. Larry's mom and brother were there, along with my mom, grandma, brother, and Mike and Bob. I kind of zoned out while we were waiting...focusing only on the feeling of Larry's hand in mine...trying to memorize every thing about him...

The prosecutor made his comments and then things were handed over to Larry's attorney, who introduced Mike, Bob, and Larry's mom to the judge. Each of them spoke for a few minutes. His mom made sure to tell the judge how important Larry is to her business because he's been running things for her since his father passed away...and she ended by saying, simply, "I believe he's going to stay on the right track...because I believe in him..." It was very matter of fact and brought the first tear to my eye since we had entered the courtroom. Mike spoke next...pointing out how well Larry has been doing in AA while being out on bond. Dr. Bob took the podium to confirm what Mike had said...that Larry's been doing everything he should be as an active AA member...he also mentioned that a very real medical problem caused Larry to relapse. I am thankful that Bob and Mike spoke to the judge...they both really came through to help Larry by vouching for him.

The last person to speak to the judge was Larry himself. It took him several minutes to compose himself after hearing all the nice things his mom, Mike, and Bob had said about his character and how well he has been doing. I sat there willing him to stop crying enough to talk to the judge...all the while crying myself. The sheriff deputy that was in the courtroom handed a tissue to Larry...I thought this was especially sweet...here he was, a big burly deputy...having the compassion to pass a tissue to a crying, admitted felon. Larry told the judge about getting clean...helping his mom with the business...going to counseling...attending AA meetings...and his plans to go back to college to be a counselor to help others. The part that really got me, though, was when he told the judge how thankful he is that he was clean before Nora was born...that something like this had to happen to force him to stop using.

The judge's final decision was to sentence Larry to 120 days in the county jail with work release privileges, three years of probation, a $1000 fine, and 100 hours of community service. All in all, we feel very grateful to the judge for taking Larry's mom's business and our family into consideration. He reports to jail on the 27th...and the end day for this whole situation is the 24th of July...not that I'm counting or anything! This is, by far, the best outcome that there could have been. Larry has to be driven to work and brought back to the jail. The added bonus to that is that he works a half hour away...so he'll have some time each day to visit with me and Nora in the car on the way. Another thing that is pretty nice is that he's the manager at the business...so he'll be working everyday...to give him the most out of jail time he can have. So while this is definitely a punishment...and Nora won't get to take a bath with her Daddy or have him read her stories at bedtime for a little while...it's a shorter and better sentence than we ever imagined. I'm not exactly sure how I'm going to bathe her by myself for the next few months, but I am thankful that my prayers were answered. He'll be out before the end of summer...before my birthday...before our 5th anniversary...before Nora is talking and walking...before Christmas...and before Nora's first birthday. I feel relief that we're on the downside of things now. Larry has a strict set of instructions and requirements to complete a drug court program when he gets out...along with his community service and fines...but we're both ready to tackle whatever we need to to keep his disease in check...

Thank you to our friends and family, whose support means more than we can ever put into words. Thank you to all who have emailed me to see how we're doing. We're doing much better now. We're looking forward to putting this behind us. We're going to make it...and that's the best part of all...because had you asked me a year ago I wouldn't have felt so sure. I think I am a stronger person having gone through this...although truthfully there have been times that I would have traded in this opportunity to gain strength for something a bit less stressful. I know one day soon we'll reflect on this and see it as the beginning of a much better life than we were going to have, had Larry continued to use drugs. There are far better things in store for us.

Posted by Courtney at 6:22 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Well...whaddaya think of the redesign?! I've been wanting to change things and just got around to getting Larry to make the changes for me. It looks like we've got all the bugs fixed...and the menu will be up and running soon...

If things still look the same to you, empty your cache...delete cookies...clear your history...somethin' technical like that...

Things will be being tweaked here and there in the next few days...this is just the first phase of the new stamplog...which will be having its name changed to Piggy Snoot...more on that later, too...

Posted by Courtney at 1:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

"What kind of dressing would you like on your salad?"

"Um. What kinds do you have?"

(Impatiently) "We have everything."

"Sweet and sour?"

(Dumbfounded) "We don't have that."

"How about celery seed?"

(Completely disinterested) "We don't have that, either."

"Okay. Raspberry vinagrette?"

(Bored) "Nope."

Maybe I'll use your blood after I finish stabbing you in your big dumb head with my fork. Just tell me the freaking dressings that you do have...it'll make BOTH of our lives easier, moron...

Posted by Courtney at 2:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Mom about baby crying in stroller: Ugh, I gotta go feed him.
Friend: You want me to do it?
Mom: Um, I breastfeed.
Friend: I could give it a whirl.

--Washington Square Park

Posted by Courtney at 4:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The days after Larry was arrested were horrible. I was confused, hurt, and worried. By day two of being in jail he had admitted to me that he had been using drugs again. I felt stupid that I hadn't figured out that that was what was going on. I should've noticed, right? I knew he had problems with drugs...how could I have missed the signs? Did I "know" but not want to face that this could be happening? I was also angry...angry that he had lied to me...angry that we were going to have to sell the house where I had just done a nursery for Nora...angry that there would be things coming up that I'd have to go through alone because he was in jail with a $3000 bond required to get him out. The first day after his arrest I went back to work...back to where we both worked...the business my grandparents owned...the business where Larry was when he was arrested...back to face everyone we worked with. For a moment I thought, "I'm sure they'll be talking behind my back about what happened...speculating about what was going on..." What got me through that day and many days to come was reminding myself that I had the best husband on the planet...when he wasn't using drugs. There was a front page news article and a search warrant executed on our house and car. This hoopla was going on while I was trying to pack up our home...move back in with my parents...go to work and go visit Larry. Without help from both of our families I don't know how I could have got everything done. I was especially touched by the outpouring of help from his family. Here he was in jail and I was six months pregnant...his siblings and parents called to check on me several times. They also all came over to help me pack up our house...they packed...they loaded boxes...they moved our things to storage. I told my mom that I couldn't believe how much they were helping...that they were his family and here they were helping me...I wasn't their problem. This really made me feel like I was their family, too.

I could tell the difference in Larry's demeanor by the second day of jail. His eyes were clearer. He started looking healthy again...despite the terrible jail food. He was the old Larry again...the one I met and fell in love with only four years before. I think he spent more time in jail worrying about me than anything else. He'd ask my mom how I was "really" doing when he called. He asked me several times a day when we talked if I was going to leave him. Was I sure I'd stick around? What if it meant a five year sentence? I told him he didn't have to keep asking because I wasn't going anywhere...I think he liked the reassurance that came from hearing it. Leaving was never an option...despite people asking me...and I'm sure people thought that I should leave him. A good friend of mine put it best when she said, "People have to understand that this isn't a casual high school boyfriend...that this is your husband...that you two are having a child..." Our wedding vows didn't say "til death or a relapse do you part".

With very generous help from my Grandfather I was able to retain a lawyer for Larry and on the eighth day that he was in jail, I bailed him out. He was anxious to start getting treatment once the initial detox was complete and that's impossible while in jail, so getting him out gave him a chance to start getting help. At first I wasn't too keen on the idea of bailing him out. While he was in jail he didn't have access to drugs. It gave me peace of mind to know that he couldn't hurt himself anymore. Strange as it sounds, the days he was in jail I felt such relief. I was relieved that I knew what had been going on...relieved that he could start getting help.

He started an outpatient drug rehab program along with going to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. Even though alcohol isn't his drug of choice the meetings are very helpful...drugs and alcohol both effect the body the same way so it's easy enough to substitute "drugs" whenever someone says "drink" at the meetings...the method of staying sober applies the same to drugs as it does to alcohol. He has been going to meetings and therapy regularly. The steps to recovery that he's following are helping daily to keep him clean.

Every day that we've had since he's been out of jail has been worth every borrowed penny to get him out and get him help. He was able to see Nora's birth. He has been able to get to know her and help out with her. He has been able to be there for both of us. These are things he would not have been able to do had he not been arrested. It took something that major for him to seek help. He didn't feel like he could ask for help. He didn't feel like he could tell me. He thought that he had messed up his one chance to be clean and that he wouldn't get another shot. Addiction is a powerful thing that takes over the life and mind of the addict. Logic does not apply. While it may be easy for a non-addict to say, "he had a baby on the way, why didn't he stop using?", that's just not how addiction works. Having a house...having a job...having a wife...having a baby on the way...none of that makes an addict stop using. It takes willingness to work a recovery program...help from a Higher Power...and daily hard work including meditation and prayer.

Larry entered a plea to the judge last week. It is a plea to lesser charges than what he was originally arrested on. It is a plea that carries a maximum sentence of eighteen months in prison. It is a plea that also does not carry a requirement of prison time at all. He is at the judge's mercy...he could receive probation...he could receive drug court...he could receive a community based corrections facility that focuses on recovery...he could receive time in the county jail...or he could receive prison time up to eighteen months. I'm thankful that prison time is all that's going to happen because while losing him for up to eighteen months is a scary prospect...losing him to his drug addiction would have been permanent...

Posted by Courtney at 8:27 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

to the one that empties the trash can full of dirty diapers

to the one that makes me feel beautiful

to the one that does the laundry

to the one that makes me laugh

to the one that lets me run the remote control

to the one that drives me to work when it's snowy

to the one that rubs my feet...even when he doesn't want to

to the one that sings along to the radio with me

to the one that loves me

to the one that I love

Happy Valentine's Day, Sweetheart!

Posted by Courtney at 8:22 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

My husband is a drug addict. I'm telling you this for two reasons. One, in hopes that our story will help someone else who has a loved one suffering from addiction or alcoholism. Secondly, writing this blog has become somewhat therapeutic and I feel strange eliminating a part of my life when writing. This should also help explain this post where I referenced an ongoing personal situation and then never elaborated.

Larry has had trouble with an addiction to prescription pain killers since he was a teenager. When we met he was completely honest with me about his situation...in fact he told me about his addiction problems within the first two weeks of our dating. At that time he had been clean for a year and a half. A few years into our marriage he had some back trouble and was given pain medicine that caused him to relapse. I was unaware of his renewed struggle with the medicines he was prescribed. At the time of his relapse he had been clean for six years.

He began to have blackouts from taking too many pills. The way he acted during those blackouts was the complete opposite of how I had ever seen him. Things in our life were a little more stressful than usual when he began using again. Because of this, I thought he was not sleeping well from the stress and that he was suffering from severe sleep deprivation. I took him to several doctors during this time including a psychiatrist and a sleep doctor. One aspect of addiction is the addict's tendency to lie...so while he knew he was having blackouts, this was not information I was privy to.

There was a point where he was "acting strange" (a blackout) that I reached the end of my rope. He was uncontrollable, rude, and incapable of making rational decisions. He thought he was able to drive...which he was not. He would leave the house and end up somewhere and not remember getting there. At one point he drove the car until it ran out of gas an hour away from home at 10 o'clock at night...all because he was high on pain medicines and unable to think clearly. This is the night that he received a $90 speeding ticket...that he has no recollection of getting. This is also the night that I took him to the hospital and had him admitted to the psychiatric ward. Keep in mind that I had no idea what was causing him to act this way. It was unsafe for him to drive. He was a danger to himself and others. He would not listen to reason. All I knew was that he was acting very strange.

Leaving him at the hospital that night is the hardest thing I've ever done. I got the papers filled out all the while he sat in a chair not even knowing what day of the week it was or where we were at. When it was time for me to leave he began to figure out that they wanted to keep him there. That is not something he wanted to do because he thought he was fine. He had to be restrained and given sedatives while I literally snuck out the locked door. I left the hospital in tears. I didn't want to leave him there. I didn't want him to be mad when he woke up and figured out what I had done. It had just become too much for me to handle and I felt like I had no choice but to take him somewhere where I knew he couldn't accidentally hurt himself or someone else.

Shortly after his stay in the psychiatric ward things calmed down. These "sleep episodes" became more spaced out. Instead of once a week it would happen every other week. There came another time that I had him admitted to the hospital again...about two months after the first time. Once again he was discharged from the hospital with no diagnosis. It seemed that his situation was unexplainable. The doctors did every test under the sun including checking for brain tumors. If he slept for a few hours he would wake up feeling fine...it seemed like sleeping fixed the problem...when in reality sleeping for a few hours at the hospital cured him because the drugs would leave his system and he had no way of getting more while he was there.

After the second hospital discharge things seemed to return to normal. There were no more strange episodes. He started acting like himself again. We purchased a home. We got a dog. I got pregnant. Things were apparently getting better...or so it seemed to me. I later found out that he was trying to quit on his own and was using less frequently...that he felt he couldn't ask for help...that he had messed up his one chance at sobriety and that this was it for him. Throughout the times he was acting abnormal I questioned whether he was using again. I was, of course, told that he was not...that things were fine.

About three months after we purchased our home he began having problems again. His depression was getting out of hand. He had anxiety attacks. He started blacking out again. He was missing work. I was stressing about how we were going to afford to keep the house and how he would keep his job with all the work he was missing. I'm sure the stress of that made what he was going through even worse. We were fighting much of the time...I was pissed that he wasn't going to work...that he had withdrawn from our marriage...that he seemed uninterested in things relating to my pregnancy...that he couldn't stay awake and would spend almost every evening after work and the entire weekend in bed. It was a terrible time. It was a time that I often wondered how we were going to make it. I've heard the saying that God never gives you more than you can handle...daily I was wondering why the hell he trusted me to handle so much because I just didn't see how I could.

This whole situation came to a head when Larry entered two homes in search of prescription medicines. It was daylight and no one was home at either residence. At the second home, however, the owner came home to find Larry inside. He called the police and Larry was later arrested. At this point I was six months pregnant with Nora and unable to wrap my mind around what was going on. My husband was in jail. I had to list and sell our home. I had to move back in with my parents. We were having a baby in three short months. To say it was overwhelming is an understatement. This takes you up to when he was arrested in September of 06. I will post Part 2 of the story in the near future...Part 2 will be less dark and dreary than Part 1 has been...believe it or not things actually got better after the arrest...

Posted by Courtney at 10:03 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Before Nora was born, sleeping through the night meant sleeping from 10pm until 9am.

Since Nora was born, sleeping through the night means sleeping from midnight until 6am.

The sad part? I'm just as happy with six hours as I was with eleven hours.

Posted by Courtney at 11:04 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Courtney: We should go sledding tomorrow. My Mom would babysit Nora! It'd be so fun!

Moment or two of silence

Larry: How's your cooter?

C: hesitant Fiiiiiine...why?

L: Well I didn't know how it was doing. You know, if it'd be okay to be bouncing down a hill on a sled...

C: Oooohhh...I wondered why you asked...I thought maybe it was 'Ask About Courtney's Vagina' Day...

L: Everyday should be 'Ask About Courtney's Vagina' Day...

Posted by Courtney at 12:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Upon releasing me from the hospital the doctor gave me the following instructions:

"Nothing vaginally for 6 weeks. No douche, no tampons, no intercourse."

You know what, Doc? I had 25 minutes worth of stitching. I don't even want to look down there...let alone put something down there.

Posted by Courtney at 5:54 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

After watching an episode of the new TV show Heros:

Larry: I wonder why I don't have super powers.

Me: (Not missing a beat.) Because you would use them for evil.

Larry: Okay, you said that way too quickly.

Me: Yeah, but you would.

Larry: You're probably right.

Posted by Courtney at 8:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

One of the more annoying things in life is finding out that a coupon you have is expired. I'm not good at using coupons because I never remember I have them, and by the time I do, they are expired. A trick I've found to remedy this problem is simple: cut off the expiration date if it is located at the top or bottom of the coupon. I've found that in 99.9% of situations, the cashier doesn't give a flying rat's ass if it doesn't have an expiration date...after all, not all coupons expire anyways. Notice I said in 99.9% of the cases...that's because yesterday I expierenced the .1%. Larry and I went to Burger King for lunch...I had a coupon that offered a free Whopper with a purchase...only it expired on the 30th of September. No problem, I just clipped off the part that said the date. We get there, order, and produce the coupon. The following conversation ensues:

Burger Lady: Um, I don't think we take these anymore...I think they were for last month...yeah...they're expired.

Me: Um, well it didn't have a date on it.

BL: (to other Burger Lady) Do we still have these coupons?

OBL: (carefully reading the fine print which does not include an expiration date...I checked) The date was at the top...but it's been cut off. (Skeptically looking at me.) Go ahead and do it this time...

Really, what difference does it make to her if I use a coupon for a free Whopper? Are the Burger King police going to yell at her for taking a coupon that has a value of $1.99? I doubt it. And, I used to work at Pizza Hut...we had to take coupons with no date as long as they had the little Pizza Hut logo. Also, while I worked there I (along with my coworkers) had no freaking idea what coupons were currently in circulation and which had expired a week or two ago...I guess this cashier/order taker wins the award for Super Burger Lady of the Year.

The funniest part was after we left...Larry and I were talking about it when we got in the car...he was teasing me because she "totally called [me] out". I said, "Um, yeah...but she took the coupon, didn't she?" To which he replied, "But only this once...that was so funny..." What I should've said when she informed me that she was doing me a favor by taking it this one time?

Yeah, you'll take it next time, too, bitch.

Why do I always think of the good stuff when it's too late?!

Posted by Courtney at 4:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The last few days I've found that I've been thinking more and more about posting again...a month ago I was ready to quit this blog thing because of a lack of motivation due to an ongoing personal situation. Things are getting better...seeming less dreary...and I've missed my little b-log...so I'm back...with a post that's chock full of updates and such...so let me apologize in advance if I ramble.

First things first...we had an ultrasound on the 19th of September to try and determine the sex of the baby. The answer, from the tech, was a 99% sureity that it's a GIRL! I made it out to a few garage sales while they were still going on, and picked up some girly outfits. We also bought her little coming home from the hospital outfit...a Classic Pooh pants, onesie, and hat set from Target. I did the registries (Walmart & Target), and the baby shower invites have been sent. Doing the registries was fun, however I think that pregnant women should be given the use of those wheelchairs while doing a registry. Do you have any idea what my feet, back, and neck felt like afterwards? By the end of the two hour excursion in Target I was scanning like a crazy woman...and found it hard to move for the rest of the day. I passed my short glucose test...which I'm glad of because I had a hard time staying awake at the hospital in between when I drank the orange delight and when they actually took my blood...I'd have had to ask for a room if I needed to do the four hour test. At my last appointment the doctor said I'm measuring big, but not gaining excessively...whatever the hell that means. I guess he's going to do another ultrasound when I go next time to verify the baby's measurements. Which reminds me...he switched me to every two weeks appointments...which had me a little freaked out...I guess this means it really is getting close. I'm 30 weeks this week...and have found I'm more and more worried that this little girly is going to come early...ten weeks doesn't seem like enough time...heaven help me if she's three or four weeks early!

It's so nice to be able to refer to her as a her instead of 'the baby' or 'the kid'. She does officially have a name...we're just not telling what it is until she's born. It took a few months of debate...mostly because Larry and I are both pretty stubborn. We had decided on a name but couldn't agree on a spelling...so we duked it out for a few months...couldn't come to an agreement...and changed the name all together. It was funny because we spent so much time disagreeing on the spelling of the one name, but then one of us suggested a different name, and we had decided on the first and middle name by the end of that day. There's your teaser for the rest of my pregnancy...the baby has a name...but it won't be shared for another ten weeks or so!

Alright, that's all I have for now...it's nice to jump back into the swing of things! Thanks to all who sent me encouraging comments and emails about my crappy-licious post from before!

Posted by Courtney at 8:42 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Things are pretty crap-a-licious right now, so there may or may not be many postings in the next few days. Long story short, Larry lost his job today in an unfair and completely unexpected manner. We're listing the house Monday, and will be moving in the next month or so...as soon as we find a place that will let us keep our Cali and Pixel. Of course being a hormonal pregnant person is probably making me take this situation extra hard...it's certainly not making it any easier. The next few days and weeks will be spent getting the house ready for showings, finding a place to rent, doing the baby registry, and finding Larry a job...so as I said I'm not sure how much you'll be hearing from me. Things will work out, and I'm trying to look at this as a situation that can turn into being a positive thing...it just doesn't seem like it right now. If you're a praying person, please do so. If you're a voodoo or spell casting person, send me an email...maybe you can help.

I will be posting about the baby in the next few days as we now know the sex...I just don't feel I can give a happy and glowing post a go right now...hopefully tomorrow I'll be in a better frame of mind to give the news it's due.

Posted by Courtney at 3:11 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Profanity. Cursing. Expletives. We all know what I'm talking about here, right?! Yesterday's post contained a certain expletive...and after I posted it I found that the expletive was not printed on my screen...it was in fact four pound signs. At first I thought this was because of the Net Nanny internet filter we use at work...but no...upon checking at home at lunch time I discovered that on my home computer the result was the same. I asked Larry, my resident blog-guy, if he had set a bad word blocker on my posts...which he apparently didn't do on purpose...but it is some kind of default for Movable Type. Well isn't that lovely? I try, most-times, to censor my language a little. This is because a) you never know where someone will be when reading...for example in the library or near their children, and b) my grandmother reads this site. Okay, okay, my grandmother knows I use curse words...but you just never know when or where someone will be when checking in on your blog...so for the most part I don't drop a lot of f-bombs in my posts. There are times, however, that a good f-bomb or s-bomb is all that will work to really tell the story. Sometimes it's the best word for the job...like in yesterday's post...

Imagine my irritation that I, the blog owner, cannot get the damn thing to post the word I want. I wanted it to say s.h.i.t not pound pound pound pound. If I wanted pound pound pound pound I happen to know that the shift of the number 3 will give me the pound sign...and I would've censored myself...but I didn't...I wanted the potty mouth word. The other thing that's kinda confusing is what exactly the Movable Type people deem to be a curse word. I've posted damn before. And #######. And I thought I had posted son-of-a-bitch...but now I'm not so sure...I guess I'll have to check when I upload this post. EDITED: I guess I didn't ever put a.s.s.h.o.l.e before...t