Author Archives: Cindy

Not the pre-BlogHer post I was planning

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Tomorrow, I’m getting on a plane bound for New York City, so I can go to BlogHer ’10. I bought my conference pass ages ago (February, I think?), so I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time.

But yesterday, there was a big chunk of the day where I thought I was going to have to scrap my NYC plans completely. See, yesterday we found out that my uncle Stanton (you know my cousin Cat who I talk about all the time, and our kids are BFFs with each other? This is her dad) had a massive heart attack. Like, he was dead for 10 minutes and the EMTs managed to shock him and get him back. It’s really really bad.

It makes no sense. He’s one of the most athletically fit people you’ll ever meet. He’s an avid cyclist and rides his bike every day. This whole thing actually happened while he was on a bike ride with his friends. It’s just a freak thing. It’s basically the equivalent of Superman having a heart attack. Completely illogical.

And all I could think about was how Cat must be feeling, about how I’d feel if it were my dad, and I just wanted to do something. Anything. So at one point I offered to sell my BlogHer pass and change my plane ticket to fly to Texas with her. She said no, and she flew out last night with Austin, her 18 month-old, since he can still fly for free, plus you know, the Magic Healing Powers of Grandbabies can’t possibly hurt. She told me not to change my plans, to go to BlogHer and have fun. (Sure. Easier said than done!)

Right now it looks like things are very much in a wait-and-see phase, and we likely won’t have any news until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest, by which point I’ll already be in New York.

So, you know, just FYI: I’m generally not the socially anxious type, and I don’t do Blogger Drama as a rule, so if you see me obsessively checking my phone with worry lines on my forehead? I’m not freaking out about the conference thing at all. I just don’t cope very well with family crises (but then: who does?). So if you happen to notice me looking all frazzled and distant, please come over and talk to me, give me a hug, slap me upside the head, shove a drink into my hand, whatever. I’d really appreciate the distraction.

Oh, also, for those of you who’ll be at BlogHer this weekend? See y’all tomorrow. (Yay!)

better luck next month

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I knew this wasn’t going to be our month.

I started charting my cycles again – I even dropped $1.99 on the oh-so-handy iPeriod app for my phone – and I started taking my temperature every morning. Doing that helped me get pregnant with Catie, so why not try it again?

Side note: I lost my basal body temp thermometer sometime during our last two moves. I searched everywhere and couldn’t find it, so I finally bought a new one at Target. Dave saw the package and misread “basal” as “anal” – he wasn’t wearing his glasses, obviously – and he said, “WOW. That’s ONE way to wake up in the morning!” I laughed, but uh… no. (Can you imagine? If I had to do that in order to get pregnant, I’d probably decide that one kid is PLENTY. Jeez.)

Anyway, since I’m charting, I had a pretty good idea of exactly when I ovulated. And I knew our timing was off. I shrugged it off and thought, oh well, no big deal, at least now I sort of have an idea of how to predict it so maybe we’ll get it right next time.

But then, on Sunday, I woke up with a bad headache and really horrible nausea. I mentioned on Twitter and Facebook that I didn’t feel well and immediately got a bunch of “OMG do you think you’re pregnant???” And I thought, well, if I am, surely it’s way too early for symptoms, but… maybe?

By Sunday night, I noticed that the nausea was at its worst when my stomach was empty. As soon as I ate something, I was ok. Which is pretty much exactly what I felt like when I was first pregnant with Catie. I also noticed that my boobs were sore, which is not a typical PMS symptom for me.

Monday was more of the same: more nausea (which was at its worst when I was hungry) and more sore boobs. And I was really weepy about the strangest things. Normally when I’m PMSing, I get irritable, not sad. Huh.

I bought a pregnancy test and took it as soon as I got home. It was negative. But, I thought, it’s still early and I didn’t use my first morning pee like you’re supposed to, so… I guess it’s still remotely possible? I decided I’d wait a few days before I tested again.

This morning, when I took my temperature, I noticed that it had dropped. I knew that wasn’t a good sign.

I started my period a little while ago. Which, you know… it sucks, but I knew, I knew this was coming, right? I knew two weeks ago that the timing was off. So I don’t quite know why I’m so sad about it. But I am. There you have it.

And? I’m still having nausea issues, which at this point, feels like just rubbing salt in the damn wound. Like, ok stomach, I get the point, you win. I’m so sorry for whatever I ate FOUR DAYS AGO that you’re still upset about. You can ease up now.

On the bright side: this means that I don’t have to lie to anyone at BlogHer next week. Dave’s very superstitious about saying anything during the first trimester, and I respect that, but I didn’t know how that would work when I’m surrounded by a bunch of my friends who all know that we’re trying. It’s easy to hide this kind of stuff online; you only talk about what you choose to talk about. In person, things get more complicated. I imagined it going like this:

Bartender: Drink?
Me: No thanks, just water.
*record scratch, stunned silence*
All 2,000 BlogHer attendees: OMG you are totally pregnant!
Me: *blushing and hiding my face because I am a terrible liar*

So, you know, I don’t have to lie about anything. And I’m free to have as many fruity girly cocktails as my drink tickets allow. I guess that’s good.

Silver linings, people. I’ll take ’em where I can get ’em.

the first time I've laughed at a joke about my last name

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Alright, this might get me some unwanted Google hits, but it’s also going to be particularly funny to those who know my family.

My maiden name is Butchee. Pronounced just like it’s spelled: BOO-chee. Like, rhymes with Gucci. It also rhymes with other words (hint: coochie) that made high school, shall we say, less than fun for me.

It’s a weird name, right? Turns out there was some dude about 200 years ago who came from Switzerland to the US. His name was Johannes Buetschi, but when he came here, his name was “Americanized” and he became John Butchee. If you meet any other Butchees, they’re probably related to me.

(Oh! Except! Y’all know I’m from Mississippi, right? When I was little, my grandmother had a housekeeper whose last name was also Butchee, which was weird since she was black. I didn’t quite understand how that was possible, until I was older and learned in history class how slaves sometimes took the last names of their owners and OMG, the Liberal Guilt. So yeah. Apparently my grandmother’s housekeeper’s ancestors and my family’s ancestors had, uh, some familiarity with each other. Yikes.)

(I also found out when I did some genealogy research that my great-great-grandfather – and all of his brothers – fought for the South in the Civil War. No, I’m not proud of that. AT ALL. But what can I do? It was 150 years ago. I’ll have a conversation about race relations with him when I see him in heaven.)

Growing up, I hated all of the jokes that were made about my last name. Even the good-natured jokes that my friends made still irritated me. In fact, when I reconnected with a high school friend on Facebook, she reminded me of this silly song she used to sing about my last name, and I finally got to tell her – 15 years later – “Yeah, I didn’t think it was funny then, and I don’t think it’s funny now. Sorry.”

Honestly, I jumped at the chance to change my name to Wilkinson when Dave and I got married. Can you blame me? It’s a name most people can spell and pronounce, and it doesn’t rhyme with any slang terms for female anatomy. I call that a WIN.

So, my sense of humor on the name-mocking? Eh, not so much.

But then, back in March, Catie and I went to New Orleans with my mom, to visit her family. Our hotel reservation was in my mom’s name, so my mom went to the front desk and told the lady her name: Carolyn Butchee.

Catie was standing next to my mom at the time. Her eyes widened and she repeated, “Caroline Boo-shee???” Then she collapsed into a heap of giggles like it was the funniest phrase she had ever heard in her life.

She kept repeating it over and over, “Caroline Boo-shee! Hee hee hee!!!” It became the big joke of the weekend, we could just say my mom’s name to her and she’d fall over laughing. (It’s also particularly funny to me because my mom has spent her entire life correcting people about her first name – it’s Carolyn, not Caroline – and the fact that her precious grandbaby pronounces it wrong slays me.)

And to this day, it remains one of her favorite jokes with my parents. Catie video chats with my parents on Skype pretty regularly, and my dad will ask her what his real name is. She says, “Pop-Pop Boo-shee!!” And then she cracks up. If we try to tell her that no, his real first name is actually Sam, that makes her laugh even more, because Sam is the name of her Grandma’s dog, so she thinks we’re totally yanking her chain and just making up nonsense names.

It also works well in knock-knock jokes.

My dad: Knock, knock.
Catie: Who’s there?
My dad: Pop-Pop!
Catie: Pop-Pop who?
My dad: Pop-Pop Butchee!

Then Catie practically pees herself laughing. She has no idea that Butchee is honestly their last name.

What’s weird is that this is the first time in my life that someone has laughed at my last name, and I’ve laughed along with them.

Especially since, sorry kiddo, I know your last name might be Wilkinson, but you’re 50% Butchee yourself. Better get used to it.

the story of how my cat ended up on mood stabilizers

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For those of you who don’t already know this, we have two cats. Beaumont was Dave’s cat way back before we started dating, and I’ve had Teenie since right around the time of my 21st birthday. (Dave also had 2 other cats back when we lived in Washington, but we re-homed them a couple of years ago, before we moved to North Carolina.)

We’ve kind of done that thing of realizing after we had a kid that we don’t much like cats anymore, but they’re ours and we’re stuck with them. It is what it is. But even though we find both cats pretty annoying now, the one thing about Teenie that’s been driving me absolutely insane? Her neurosis. OMG, that cat is a weirdo.

Teenie was probably always supposed to be an “only cat” (like an only child). She has never jived with other cats, and it’s only gotten worse in her old age. When we lived in Washington, it wasn’t so bad. She basically lived in our bedroom and didn’t interact with the other cats much at all. Then we moved to North Carolina. (Dum-dum-DUUUUM!!!)

Not so camera-shy Teenie
Can you sense the foreboding yet?

A big part of Teenie’s neurosis involves the litter box. If another cat has used it, she’ll go elsewhere. Like the floor. She had a few accidents in our house in Washington, but really, she pretty much had her own litter box there, so it wasn’t often. Then, after we moved to NC, she and Beaumont were sharing a litter box, so we had a lot of incidents where Teenie would go pee somewhere else. Her favorite spot was a corner in the dining room. Which is gross, but the floors were hardwood, so I’d spot the puddle, clean it up, and we were fine. No major damage.

Now, we’re in our new house. My beautiful, beautiful dream house that I adore. And within a couple of weeks of living here, Teenie started peeing in the corner of our family room. Which has white carpet. Oh. My. GAH.

(Ok, to be fair, that carpet had about a million other stains within the first month. I don’t know how the previous owners kept it so clean, but they obviously did not have two cats, a toddler, and a Dave. That carpet is going to have to be replaced someday soon, and it’s going to have to be with something at least a couple shades darker. It’s pretty – or rather, it WAS pretty – but it’s completely impractical.)

I tried a million different things to make Teenie stop peeing on the carpet. I made sure there were two litter boxes in the laundry room and that I scooped them at least once a day, so there was always at least one clean litter box available to her. I got one of those Feliway diffusers that’s supposed to help with feline anxiety. I tried spraying that corner of the room with citrus smells that are supposed to repel cats.

Nothing worked, she kept peeing in that one corner of the room. Finally I figured, ok, Teenie, you win. I set up another litter box in that corner (if you’re keeping track, that’s 3 litter boxes for 2 cats). I didn’t want a litter box in my family room, I think it’s disgusting, but I didn’t see any other options. Guess what happened? Beaumont started using it, because, hey! Litter box! And then Teenie found a new corner of the family room and started peeing there.

GAAAAHHH!!! *gnashing of teeth, rending of garments, lots of mixing distilled vinegar with carpet cleaner and scrubbing the floor within an inch of its life*

Finally, I took Teenie to the vet and explained what was going on. As much as she annoys me, I DON’T want to have my cat put to sleep because of a behavioral issue. And she’s too old and neurotic to have her re-homed at this point, she’d never adjust. But at the same time, we couldn’t keep living that way. I was embarrassed to have people over because no matter how much I scrubbed, our house always reeked of cat pee. And there is not much worse than cat pee on the Gross Smell Scale.

The vet suggested Kitty Prozac*. I know how hard it is to get this cat to take a pill, so I asked about other forms that it’s available. And lucky me, there’s a local pet pharmacy that will get me the Kitty Prozac in liquid form, and they’ll even flavor it with something called Triple Fish Flavor (gag!) (and please don’t tell me what the 3 fishes are, because I’m sure I don’t want to know), so it makes it kind of tasty for the cats.

Teenie doesn’t particularly like the Triple-Fish flavored Kitty Prozac, but she takes it. And you know what? She only pees in the litter box now. Seriously, not a single accident since we started her on the meds a month ago. NOT EVEN ONE. I can’t believe it.

Of course, this means that I’ll be shelling out $50 a month for Kitty Prozac for the remainder of Teenie’s life, which sucks. But if it means no more pee-stained carpet, I’ll take it.

* Not a paid endorsement. Although if the makers of Kitty Prozac happen to read this and want to spot me a month’s supply for free, I sure as hell wouldn’t say no.

Truly Amazing Greis

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I went to BlogHer last year for the first time. I felt a little awkward going into it since I didn’t really know anyone beforehand, and you can never be sure how you’re going to click with people when you meet them in real life.

One of the people who mentioned wanting to meet me was Greis. We had talked on Twitter some, and she seemed cool, but she’s also into sports and she likes country music, so I really wasn’t sure if we’d have anything in common at all.

Then I met her. And it was like meeting someone I’d known my whole life. I’m pretty sure I hung out with Greis far more than anybody else that whole weekend. She’s even in my favorite picture of myself from that weekend (if not one of my favorite pictures of myself, ever). She looks pretty hot in it, too.

Greis & me
Don’t we look purdy?

She’s just… normal. No drama. Totally easy to talk to and be around. And also very smart and incredibly funny.

Everyone should have at least one Greis in their life, is what I’m saying.

Tomorrow, Greis is doing something I did 8 years ago and having gastric bypass surgery. She and I have talked a lot about it over the past several months, and I could not be happier or more excited for her.

Rather than teach her parents how to use Twitter, she’s going to give them my number and have them text me after her surgery so I can update her friends for her. I’m honestly honored to have been chosen to do that for her. (I know, that sounds cheesy, shut up, I totally mean it.)

Of course, I’m totally bummed that because of the surgery timing and some other planned vacations, Greis won’t be able to come to BlogHer this year. I can’t really imagine what it’ll be like without her, since she’s so ingrained in my mental image of the conference. But there’s always next year.

Congrats, Greis, and good luck tomorrow. Can’t wait to see you on the other side. Love you tons, lady.

weekend recap

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Saturday started with a trip to the kids’ hair salon.

Catie pre-haircut

It was far less traumatic than the last time we went (I still laugh every time I see those pictures of her screaming in the salon chair; 2 year-old Drama Queen). She was happy to sit in the chair this time.

getting set up for her big haircut

snip snip!
(That’s not a skeptical face, she had a mouth full of animal crackers. They give each kid a little Dixie cup full of them to snack on while they get their hair cut. Catie kept her cup hidden under her cape and would sneak the crackers out one at a time.)

She even laughed when the lady pulled out a blow dryer, which surprised me.

hair dryers are funny!
I honestly thought she’d freak at that point, but she handled the whole thing like a pro.

The kids get a “prize” after their haircut, which in Catie’s case turned out to be a purple rubber bouncy ball – the kind of thing you could get from a vending machine for a quarter. But she freaking loves that ball. You would’ve thought someone had given her the Hope Diamond, the way she reacted.

Since she was so good, afterward we went next door to Subway to get some lunch. It’s kind of a treat for us to eat out together.

post haircut
Showing off her haircut. Orange lips courtesy of the bag of Doritos she wolfed down.

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Saturday afternoon, it was my turn for a haircut. My last trip to a salon was back in March, and I never particularly loved the haircut that much. I’ve been feeling very “blah” lately, so I was excited to do something different.

Before:
me, pre-haircut

I thought about doing something drastic and whacking it off chin-length. In the end, I decided to go with taking about 3 inches off. Definitely a nice change, but without being too severe.

After:
me, post-haircut

I also had my eyebrows done, which always makes me feel better.

Now we just need to get Dave to get his hair cut too. He’s starting to look like Hugh Jackman as Wolverine, and not in a good way. Catie told him, “Daddy, your hair is growing up too big!”

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Saturday night, Dave and I took Catie to drop-in daycare and had a little Date Night. We went to see “Inception” – which, for the record, was really good. Although I can’t really describe the movie at all because it’s kind of a brain melter. We went to the 6:30 movie, and it’s 2.5 hours long, so it was 9:15 by the time we got back the daycare to pick Catie up. Not a big deal since they’re open really late on Saturday nights, but it totally messes with the whole bedtime routine. I think we finally got Catie to bed around 10:30, and that was even with skipping her bath and just getting straight into her PJ’s when we got home.

I have to say, that’s another reason I’m looking forward to my parents’ moving here. Someday we’ll be able to do Date Nights without worrying about rushing home, because we can just let Catie spend the night with her grandparents. That’ll be nice. I know my mom is already looking forward to it.

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Sunday (today), Catie and I decided to take advantage of the sunshine and go to the neighborhood swimming pool. Quite a difference from last week, this time I asked Catie if she wanted to go to the pool, and she said, “Yeah! I stick my feet in the water!”

Catie, before going to the pool

She still only went to the 2nd step, but whatever. I didn’t press her to do anything else – I offered to carry her further into the pool a couple of times, she said no, and I let it go. She’ll do more in her own time.

The rest of the day has involved cleaning the house and conquering the mountain of laundry (3 loads washed & folded so far, 3 more to go). Not very exciting, just your basic real-life stuff.

Still, overall it’s been a really fun weekend. Hope you all had good weekends too.