Author Archives: Cindy

of course, the perk of having a cold is that I can't smell the litter box

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When I got home from Chicago on Sunday, Dave was running late to pick me up at the airport. I got my bags and met him outside baggage claim. I gave him a big hug & kiss, and climbed into the backseat to sit with Catie for the ride home. I noticed that her voice seemed a little raspy, but didn’t think much of it. When we got home, she wanted me to carry into the house, which I was happy to do after not seeing her for 3 days. That’s when I noticed she was (very mildly) wheezing. Dave admitted that she’d come down with a cold over the weekend, but he didn’t tell me because he didn’t want me to freak out and fly home early. What can I say, the man knows me well.

(In my defense, a normal kid’s cold is not something to freak out about, and I know that. But for Catie, colds usually lead to asthma attacks, and after landing in the ER twice, I tend to be a little panicky. So there’s that.)

And really, her cold didn’t seem too bad. We had to give her albuterol a few times, but she seems mostly better now. Yesterday when we were playing, she threw her head back and laughed, and I noticed that her top two eye teeth (the “fangs”) are just barely poking through her gums. I figured, oh well, that’s what it is, then. It’s not a cold at all, she’s just congested because she’s teething again. No worries.

Then I woke up today and realized that she definitely did have a cold. And I know because I now have it too. Sore throat, runny nose, the whole nine. Now I’m just hoping that my cold passes as quickly as Catie’s did. Because I really don’t need to be sick right now.

In moving news, I spoke with our landlady about whether or not she’ll let us stay here for the month of August, since our closing date on our house has been bumped. Have I mentioned how horrible our landlady is? Oh yes, I have. First, she started in on me that a couple of people have complained about “a very strong cat odor” in the house. Well, yes, we have two cats. I try to keep the litter boxes scooped, especially when we have a house showing, but what can I do? Sometimes you still catch a whiff of them. I can’t believe her rudeness in trying to essentially blame me for the fact that the house hasn’t been rented yet. She even issued a mild threat by saying, “Well, if they’ve had accidents on the carpet, I don’t know what I’m going to tell the owners…” Um, well, you don’t have to tell them anything, because they haven’t had accidents on the carpet. (Admittedly, Teenie has had a couple of accidents on the hardwood floors, which I’ve cleaned immediately. So no worries there.) I reassured her that the cat odor will be gone as soon as we move out, then tried to ask again about whether or not we can stay. She’s impossible to pin down with a definite yes or no answer, so finally I just said, “Ok, how about if I bring you a check for the month of August, and then you can pro-rate a refund based on the day we move out?” She seemed satisfied with that.

So yeah. Apparently we won’t have to move twice. I guess. (I hope?) Oy. Such a pain. Now to figure out when we’re getting our money and can close on the new house. Good times.

my little BlogHer recap

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BlogHer was amazing, as I expected. I know tons of people are going to write posts about it, far more eloquently than I can – although, let’s be fair, I’m at a bit of a disadvantage since I’m pounding this out on the airplane with the most epic hangover I’ve had in years. (Typing blog posts in MS Word to copy & paste later, can I get an amen?)

(Also: the last time I had to get on a plane while hungover-or-possibly-still-drunk-from-the-night-before was when my cousin Teresa passed away in 2004. And even though the circumstances around last night’s alcohol consumption were much more joyous this time [celebrating new friendships rather than mourning a horrible loss], flying with a hangover sucks exactly as much as I remember.)

(Also also: hi parentheses! Prepare to be overused. My brain is basically one giant non-sequitur today.)

So, yes. I met tons of bloggers that I adore. The few “rock star” bloggers that I got the nerve to talk to were all lovely and sweet and completely gracious. Some were a little shy and awkward (which, yeah ok, I sort of forget that we’re all basically nerds; I keep thinking that I’m the only one), and some were a lot warmer than I expected and gave me big hugs. I was surprised at how many people knew my name – or rather, my Twitter handle. (Another parenthetical aside: it was VERY weird to introduce myself as PooBou for 3 days. No one actually calls me that in real life, but after a while I just kind of got used to it.)

Then, of course, there are the bloggers who I talk online with a lot, and I was worried that our online connection wouldn’t translate to real life. And you know? It totally translated. From the second I met them in person, it felt like I was just hanging out with old friends who I’ve known for years. Like there’s already an established history, it was totally comfortable and easy. I loved that.

Heather & me

Maura & Krystle

Jen & Brittany

Greis & me

I didn’t attend as many sessions as I wanted. Some I intentionally skipped because they just didn’t apply to me, or because I needed a nap, or because I went wandering through downtown Chicago to go meet up with an old friend (who I’ve known literally since the day my parents brought me home from the hospital, and who I hadn’t seen in over a decade). (Hi, Dendy!) Then there were a few sessions that I really wanted to attend, but they were in tiny conference rooms that I couldn’t get into. People were lined up in the hallways trying to cram themselves in, and just couldn’t. (So, if any BlogHer people read this: bigger conference rooms for the Room of Your Own sessions next year, please!) The best part of the sessions by far was the Community Keynote speeches at the end of the first day. I’ll post a link when it’s online, but seriously, I was doing the full-on ugly cry during a few of them, and almost peeing myself laughing during the others. Anyone who says that bloggers aren’t really writers should watch those.

Of course, you can’t get 1,400 women together without some drama. There were rumors about some illicit affairs happening between bloggers (which I’m 99.9% sure were all b.s.), and there were some women there who got nicknamed “swag whores” because they were literally shoving people out of the way to grab all the free stuff they could. Fortunately for me, I didn’t witness any of that, I just heard about it from other people. I’m generally not a fan of drama, so I’m honestly relieved that I missed all of that and it didn’t put a damper on the experience for me.

Overall, it was great. The swag is nice, sure. I got some cool toys to bring home to Catie. (And some for myself – ahem *thank you room 704 ladies, mwah!* cough cough.) And I got to meet Tim Gunn and have my picture taken with him, which was awesome. (And I’m waiting for the Tide people to post the picture so I can nab it, but they haven’t yet. Argh!) I was in head-to-toe Old Navy, I felt totally unfashionable, but he was so kind and funny and wonderful that I didn’t even care. Plus I made him laugh, and I didn’t accidentally say the f-word in front of him or anything, so bonus points for me.

Tim Gunn sighting!

But the whole point of going to BlogHer for me was to learn more about great writing in this space, to meet the other bloggers that I love, to hang out, and to have fun. So really, the highlight of the weekend was just sitting around a hotel with some insanely talented, hilarious, smart and just effing fantastic people who I absolutely adore, and who I am so proud to call my friends.

So, thank you so much. To Greis, Krystle, Jen, Dawn, VDog, Mrs. Flinger, BJ, Maura, Meghan, Heather, and soooo many other people I can’t even name them all, who made this weekend so completely wonderful and fun. I love y’all, and can’t wait to see you next year!

the obligatory pre-BlogHer post

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I’m leaving for BlogHer in less than 48 hours, and I’m oddly calm about it. Sure, there’s a lot to do: laundry, packing, getting cash from the ATM, stocking up on groceries so Dave won’t have to do it, etc. But I keep seeing people talk about how anxious they are, nervous about meeting the popular bloggers, and OMG it’s going to be like high school and I’m going to hide out in the bathroom the whole weekend or whatever. And I guess I’m feeling sort of “meh” about it. I hope I get to meet all of the bloggers that I love, and I hope that none of them are stuck-up snobs. (I have no reason to think that any of them are snobs; if I did, I wouldn’t bother reading their blogs.)

Really, there are two things that are making me nervous:
1. I might get to meet Tim Gunn. This scares me because I adore him and I know I’m not exactly the most super-fashionable chick on the planet. But I know that if I have the opportunity to get my picture taken with Tim Gunn and I don’t, my mom will kick my butt. (My mom loooves her some Project Runway.) So again… eh. I know Tim Gunn is way too polite to tell me to my face that I look like crap, so I’ll just have to pretend that he isn’t secretly judging me. Although I’m pretty sure that he will be.

2. This will be the first time ever that Dave is on solo-parent duty overnight. (And this will be for THREE nights!) He’ll have some help, Catie will go to daycare on Friday, and I think Cat and Tony are planning to take Catie off his hands for a few hours over the weekend so he can pack. (Hear that, buddy? Packing. Not playing Scrabble on Facebook. I mean it.) I’m just worried because I’m still Catie’s primary translator, so I worry that there will be some communication breakdowns and frustration on both sides. But I just have to trust that they’ll get through it and it’ll all be ok.

Mostly, I’m just excited. I get to sleep in a hotel room where there will be zero chance of a two year-old climbing into bed next to me at 3 a.m. I’ll have conversations with grown-ups. I can have cocktails. I get to meet a lot of brilliantly funny, lovely women whose writing I’ve admired for years. There’s really not much negativity or anxiety around it for me.

For three days, though, man alive I am going to miss this face.
Catie in the toy store
How could I not?

my first vlog

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Isn’t that what you crazy kids call a video blog entry? Anyway, here’s mine.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kohQ7yh6aWQ

I mainly got the idea for this because I wanted Dave to hear the psychotic Elmo singing, but he’s at work, so I needed a way to record it, because no way in hell am I keeping this thing in the house for Catie to find and want to play with later. Watch the video & you’ll see why.

Also, side note for those of you going to BlogHer: this might help you recognize me in the crowd. Although I’ll hopefully remember to put on some damn lipstick then.

mental photograph

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Yesterday over on Shannon’s blog, I mentioned something in the comments about how I think my blog at this point is mostly a way to chronicle all of the little moments in Catie’s life that I worry I’d otherwise forget. Yesterday was one of those days that I want to make sure I remember.

It started off rough, Catie was in a bad mood during our playdate with the neighbor across the street. Then I realized we were almost out of milk, so I had to go to the store (she drinks a cup of milk before AND after her nap). She cried when I suggested going to the grocery store, so I told her that we’d go to Target (it’s a Super Target, has a grocery store included), and if she was really good, I’d buy her a toy. And you know? It worked. She was an angel through the whole store. No whining, no crying, no “cawwy you!” (she hasn’t figured subject versus object, so she still says “carry you” instead of “carry me”). She walked right next to the cart (no running off), and when she got tired, she asked to ride in it. After I got my necessary groceries, we headed over to the toy section, as I promised. She picked out a mommy and baby giraffe from the realistic-looking animal figures, and I said ok. The deal had been for one toy, but the baby couldn’t leave the store without her mommy, so… ok, I caved. The two animals together were less than $8, so fine. No big deal.

We came home, had lunch, and she went down for a nap. We lay in her big-girl bed together while I read her a few books, and when we were done, she said, “Mommy, snuggle,” and she hugged my head against her chest until she fell asleep. (It took a few tries to extricate myself without waking her up.)

When she got up from her nap, I noticed that the sky outside had suddenly gotten very dark. Friday is trash day, so I suggested that we go get the trash cans inside before it started to rain. I brought the cans in, and we sat in the driveway looking up at the gray sky and talking about the wind for a few minutes. Finally, it started to rain, so we went in.

Then we sat in the doorway, with the front door wide open, and watched the rain pour down. It was one of those really intense summer thunderstorms that I missed so much when I lived in Seattle, and I love to watch them. I didn’t worry about raindrops hitting the hardwood floors, or bugs getting in, or the fact that the door was open while the air-conditioner was running. We just sat there in the doorway, just the two of us, and watched the rain. Every time it thundered, Catie told me that it was a big panda up in the sky saying “BOOM!!” (I’m not sure where she got the thunder = panda thing, I think she misunderstood Dave the first time he said “thunder.” She heard it as “panda,” and we’ve been unable to correct her since then. So in case you didn’t know, thunder is caused by a giant panda up in the clouds. True story. Ask any meteorologist, I’m sure they’ll back up that theory. Or they might look at you like you’re crazy and back slowly away from you. Coin toss, really.)

After it stopped raining, we went outside to jump in puddles and throw leaves around.

looking for that giant panda up in the clouds that made all the thunder

I love how the humidity makes her hair curl

Later that night, when Dave lay in bed with her to help her fall asleep, and she was still holding onto the mommy and baby giraffes, Dave asked her what the giraffe says. (He meant it as a trick question, as I’m pretty sure giraffes don’t say much of anything.) Without missing a beat, Catie responded: “Hi, tree.” Well, yes, I suppose that is what the giraffe would say, if he talked.

It was a very good day. And I want to remember all of this. I want to remember how funny and smart she is (and how she can crack up both Dave and me with a single phrase), how she gave me two big kisses smack on the mouth in the middle of Target for buying her those giraffes, how much I love to snuggle with her as she falls asleep, how her hair feels when she’s sitting in my lap, leaning against me watching thunderstorms. I hope that yesterday is one of those days that I can still remember when I’m old and gray. And maybe by blogging about it, and the fact that I’ll have a written record of it, it will be.

moving makes me crabby

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So, the house thing. God, where do I start? Ok, I mentioned this earlier, but basically, our down payment is coming from the UK. Dave, his mom and his brother own a couple of vacation cottages in Scotland. They’re taking out a business loan against the value of the properties, and our portion of that loan will be our down payment. Which is awesome, because when it’s all said and done, we’ll own a house here in North Carolina, plus we’ll be part owners of a couple of vacation cottages in Scotland.

Speaking of the cottages in Scotland, want to see them? Here’s one and here’s the other. I know, the view is totally hideous, right? Gah. I can’t wait to go visit there, but someone *cough*Dave*cough* needs to get his passport renewed before we can go anywhere.

So, yeah. The loan. It seems that the bureaucracy involved in getting a loan is just as tedious in the UK as it is here. So there’s a couple of little things that need to be done before the loan funds can be released, but those little things are expected to take at least two to four weeks. Why? I really couldn’t say.

Meanwhile, our closing date was supposed to be on July 21st. As in six days from now. Obviously that won’t be happening. The sellers have agreed to an extension, but if we don’t have the money by August 31st, they can walk from the deal. Hopefully it won’t come to that, we should have our loan money long before that date.

BUT. Our lease expires on July 31st. So what happens if we don’t have our loan funds by then? There are a few possible scenarios:

1. The sellers could let us go ahead and move into the house and rent it for the month of August. That was our hope, and it would’ve been ideal, as it would’ve meant that we only had to move once. But they said no – I’m not really sure why, I think they’re just being overly cautious about any potential risk for them. (Or it could be the way our realtor called it, which was, “They’re just being turds.” I love her.)

2. We could extend our lease by a month on this house (or even just a couple of weeks), which would give us enough time to secure our funds, close, and move. Again, that would be mean that we only have to move once, so yay, right? I called our landlady to ask for an extension. She said that while nobody has rented this place yet, “if somebody wants the house, I gotta give ’em the house.” Um, thanks for the loyalty to your current tenants, bitch.

The thing is, I totally get her reasoning: in this type of neighborhood, most likely the new tenants will be a family with kids, and they’ll want to move in August so they’ll be in the district before the school year starts. So she’s worried that if she extends the lease for us, it might cause her to lose a potential new tenant. But does she have to be so rude about it? Everything is such a headache with that woman.

Anyway, we won’t know whether or not we can stay here until a couple of days before our lease expires. And since I’m a chronic planner, the idea of putting it off that long (and then possibly having to scramble to find movers at the last minute, which will be impossible at the end of the month) makes my stomach cramp with anxiety.

3. We move out on July 31st, load all of our stuff up into PODs, board the cats, and find temporary housing. Maybe we shack up with Cat and Tony, maybe we find a short-term furnished apartment or an extended-stay hotel. This is seriously the least desirable outcome for me, since it means two moving days rather than one, plus dealing with the aftermath of a seriously stressed-out toddler. Catie doesn’t do well sleeping in new places, and the transition to a new house was going to be bad enough. But if we’re staying someplace for a couple of weeks and then moving to the new house? God. She’s going to be sleeping in our bed every night until her 3rd birthday. Ugh.

So yeah, I’m stressed. And I’m pretty horrible when I’m like this, I feel so irritable and mad all the time, and I’ve been snapping at both Dave and Catie. (Twice now I’ve yelled at Catie to just be quiet when all she wanted was my attention. And I made her cry. Mommy FAIL.) I just don’t know what to do, and not having a solid plan in place makes me feel like I’m going crazy. I hate it. But I continue to pack boxes anyway, because what else can I do?

the eye surgery follow-up

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My eye surgery last week was actually pretty uneventful, given how much I freaked out about it beforehand. I couldn’t find my Klonopin (my medicine cabinet is hopelessly disorganized), so Brittany very generously offered up two of her Ativan instead. Dave and I left while Catie was taking a nap, and my sister Tracy (who’d flown in the night before) and Brittany promised to keep Catie happy and entertained when she woke up.

I took one Ativan before we left the house, and since I was still shaky and panicky when we got the eye doctor’s office (and I found out that they do NOT give you drugs for this procedure), I asked for a cup of water so I could take the second one. They measured my eye pressure and put some drops in my eyes to make my pupils constrict (which was very weird), then sent me back to the waiting room to wait for the doctor. I sat with Dave, both of us playing with our iPhones – he was playing Scrabble, I was reading Twitter. Then I suddenly looked up and realized that heeeeey, I feel goooood. I was full-on stoned from the Ativan. I even whipped out my iPhone and took this picture of Dave and me.

all sedative'd up before my eye surgery

Flattering, no? Now you know what I look like when I’m stoned. (Um, not that I ever do that. Anymore.) (Also: how cute is Dave in that picture? He looks all, “yes yes, I’m tolerating my ridiculous goof of a wife quite well, thank you.”)

Anyway, the doctor finally showed up and brought me back. Honestly, the surgery wasn’t nearly as horrible as I was expecting. It was a little uncomfortable, but it wasn’t agonizing or anything. I can think of things (i.e., the dentist) that are far more painful.

After it was all done, we came home, just as Tracy and Brittany were about to take Catie shopping (an effort to keep her distracted from the fact that Mommy wasn’t around; they came back with at least half a dozen books and a stuffed elephant. Thanks, aunt Tracy!). I managed to sneak past them so Catie didn’t see me, and I went straight to bed. I slept for a couple of hours, and woke up feeling great.

And really, I’ve had no problems since then. I have to use some prednisone eye drops four times a day for the next week to prevent swelling, but that’s about it. I have a follow-up appointment in a few weeks, and… yeah. That’s pretty much all there is to it. I know, you’d think it’d be more dramatic, right? Meh.

Up next: moving drama. Oy.