Archive for the ‘marriage’ Category

This wasn’t meant to be.

Posted 18 Jan 2013 — by Mrs. Jenna
Category marriage, motherhood, not so much, The Hubs

So, this post is going to be personal. And if you know me because we work together or something…maybe you don’t want to read it. It’s going to be major word vomit. It’s going to be TMI. But this is why I have a blog. To get these things out. To find others who can commiserate and make me feel less alone and more like just anyone living their life.

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Unease.

Posted 04 Dec 2012 — by Mrs. Jenna
Category house stuffs, marriage, not so much, The Hubs

 

“Well, we must wait for the future to show.”
― Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse

 

To come to a point where your dreams move away from your reach is hard.

The hubs and I have discussed putting our house on the market for months. We worked all summer on our home to prepare it to sell. When months zoomed by and it got colder and we weren’t ready yet, we decided to hold off until Spring.

We have many reasons we want to move. We need a better layout of rooms so that when the times comes that we plan for a second child (!!!), our bedrooms are on the same floor. Our neighborhood is not necessarily family friendly. I hate the schools in our district. Our main (and frankly only used) bathroom is very small. The house is over 80 years old.  I want to feel safe walking out after dark.

But really, it’s the bedroom thing that’s got me wanting to move. We have two bedrooms on the main floor, and our finished attic acts as a third bedroom. A third bedroom with stairs so steep that we struggled to get a full size bed through the doorway. Meaning: I don’t think we could get a queen size bed up there. If we have a second child – I don’t want that baby or Abby being upstairs while the rest of us are down. The attic doesn’t maintain a comfortable temperature in the winter OR summer. To me, I have a hard time making this house work with a second child.

And talks of that second child have begun.

Unfortunately, realizations of how much debt we’ve accumulated have also come to light.

In this equation, our plan of moving out of this house (which has contributed to our mounting debt) have in essence been shut down because of our debt.

It is our own fault. I knew eventually this would happen. Denial is a powerful thing.

And now? I can’t allow myself to accept this as fact.

“If the market were different, we’d sell our house for a profit instead of breaking even, and we could pay off that debt.”

“Maybe we’ll win the lottery.”

“This isn’t a huge deal-breaker. We can still get a mortgage.”

When I think about it enough, my heart breaks hard and I nearly start to cry. To me, moving was a step towards the future, and I don’t want to put my dreams on hold. I want to know everything will still fall into place. That the choices we made in the past are not totally destroying our dreams for the future.

This is not the end of the world. If push comes to shove, we can make this house work. Knowing that we’ll be paying for our financial mistakes instead of living our lives in a new home? Hurts. Like. Hell.

The Pot Roast

Posted 08 Nov 2012 — by Mrs. Jenna
Category I am a moron, marriage, motherhood

Hi there. Long time no see. You look thin. Let me make you something.

But maybe not a pot roast.


Monday, I worked from home. It was lovely. I mean, I struggled a bit with the whole working thing. (Eventually I got some work done.) Around 3pm or so, it was time for me to peel some potatoes and throw some carrots and meat into the Crock Pot I had just purchased that morning. I was going to make my first pot roast.

Let me stop here. How well do you know me? If you know me well, you know that I’m no chef. At all. Occasionally I luck out and make something and it’s awesome. My first time shot at a new recipe? It’s questionable, but usually edible. I figure out what I could have done better, and if I make it again, it usually is. In between all this “cooking” I do? I don’t cook. EVER. We eat pizza. Take-out. Spaghetti and store-bought sauce. Chicken nuggets. I’m not winning any parenting awards here. WE GET BY. I’ll repeat – I. DON’T. COOK. Full stop.

So, this past weekend, when I knew I was going to be home during the day, I figure now’s as good a time as any to try my hand at slow-cooking…Crock Pot style. I grab my spice packet from the Target bag, follow the directions (slice veggies and throw into pot, add meat, then combine spice packet + 1 cup water, pour over veggies and meat) and place the cover on the pot. There’s a four or eight hour cooking time options. I set the temperature, and know that when the hubs comes home from work four hours later, this place is going to smell wonderful and dinner will be served. Wife/Mom of the year? STEP RIGHT UP.

(I know that most of you probably do this shit at least twice a week and no one bats an eye. This seriously was like, a huge deal for me. No joke.)

I leave to pick up Abby an hour and a half later, and I can’t smell anything yet. I figure…it’s still got two and a half hours left. It’ll smell good soon. We get back, we play a bit…and I realize I’m still not smelling anything. I check the pot, without removing the cover. (See? I can follow directions!) It’s cooking, but…not what I would expect it would look like. Yet, I question nothing.

Seven o’clock rolls around. The hubs will be home in a half hour. Suddenly…a moment of clarity. Four hours on low. Four hours. On low. That doesn’t make any sense if there’s an eight hour option. Is there a lower setting than low? No. OH CHRIST ON A CRACKER I EFFING SET THE TEMPERATURE WRONG.

I dig the spice packet out of the trash and sure enough: “8 hours on low, 4 hours on high.” See what I did there? Let me show you: “8 hours on LOW 4 HOURS on high.”

All I could do was laugh at this point. I have a half hour to cook a roast another 4 hours. We’ll be eating at 11:30pm.

I managed to fuck up a crock pot recipe. It’s like…fate.

We ate spaghetti that night.


I took the pot out of the cooker around 8:30pm. Let it cool a bit and threw it in the fridge. I’d try again last night. I let it cook (longer maybe than needed but at this point it could only help me) but we still didn’t eat it because ELECTION NIGHT PIZZA WINE PANICCCCCC, but before bed I put it all into a plastic tub and threw it in the fridge. For tonight.

I put some on a plate for Abbers, heated it in the microwave for one minute. When it was done, I tried to cut it up into pieces for her – I swear that meat was so tough it’d kick all your teeth in before the fork passed your lips. TOTALLY inedible. The potatoes and carrots were alright but WHAT THE FLYING FUCK.

I seriously would love to pick up the entire Crock Pot and throw it out the window into the backyard where I could only hope that the squirrels would somehow find a way to make that thing their collective bitch.

(See how I’m mad at the Crock Pot? Like it’s the appliance’s fault I’m a moron?)

Ugh.

We ate frozen spring rolls for dinner tonight.

Please don’t call CPS.

(Side note – did you hear Dax Shepard & Kristen “Sloth” Bell are expecting their first?)

Brain dump.

Posted 20 Aug 2012 — by Mrs. Jenna
Category Abigail, marriage, motherhood, paparazzi, TheRapists, toddler business

I want to have a real, awesome post that makes all sorts of sense and is hilarious, but my brain is in the process of trying to straighten itself out right now, so you’re stuck with this. My bad.

  • Tomorrow morning I have an appointment to see my psycho-theRapist. It’s supposed to just be a check-in, but I’ve decided I’ve had enough of the crazy pills. I’ve been doing so very well lately, and because of this, I’ve been forgetting to take my pills. Like, I think the last time I took one before I remembered to this evening was on Friday morning. Now? I’ve got the head-spins and feel loopy. I don’t want to feel this way because I’m NOT taking something. So, it’s time to start the descent.
  • Abby is on day 4 of potty training. She’s doing really really well so far. Only a couple accidents today, and a FULL ON REQUEST to go poo-poo on the potty. (And she did.) This is just so awesome to see her able to take charge of something that SHE has control over. We have our final weekend away this weekend (THANK GOD), so we’ll be doing a 5 hour car ride with her sans diapers. This, for the most part, scares the shit out of me. But I know she can do it. I know she will have accidents. This is all part of learning. And I cannot WAIT until she has got it down.
  • We celebrated our dear friends’ wedding this past weekend in lovely Brainerd, MN. I was Tory’s personal attendant and never had more fun being someone’s bitch. (I keed Tory, I’ll be your bitch anytime.) It was an awesome locale and Tory (and Brandon) did a great job with the decor and plans. There was a slight mishap with a golf-cart later in the evening that left one friend needing 20 stitches to the face and another with a broken clavicle (yeah, I don’t think anyone wants to hear the details of that drunken joyride), but beyond that and a little rainstorm prior to the ceremony, the weekend went off without a hitch. Here’s a photo of our crazy group of friends, courtesy of Lisa Quinlan Photography:
    Yeah, I’m totally getting my ass chewed on. We’re professional drinkers, we are. I also apparently have no fear of making an fool of myself and got full on ERMAGERD.

That’s all for now. I’m being summoned for round two of get Abbers to sleep.

My kingdom for a free weekend at home.

Posted 18 Jul 2012 — by Mrs. Jenna
Category house stuffs, marriage, motherhood, toddler business

This week marks the beginning of a six week period of time where I will not rest my head at home on any Friday or Saturday nights. Six weekends of being away from home. Six weeks of unpacking and repacking suitcases and duffel bags, restocking travel shampoos and on certain weekends, kissing Abby goodbye for a few days.

Don’t get me wrong – not one of the weekends I’d skip. They’re all full of family, friends, weddings, anniversaries, birthdays and MOTHER EFFING BLOGHER IN NYC (I’ll try to save that for another post, because the internet isn’t annoyed enough with all that already). It’s just insane to me, that yet again, the hubs and I can say “We’re not making any plans this summer! Let’s relax!” in April and then suddenly every plan was made within the next six weeks. OH THE IRONY.

In my mind, this is all the ultimate test of my anxiety and whether or not I have it under control. I mean, for most people sans crazy problems, this sort of social schedule would throw half of them over the edge. Me? I’m already losing sleep. NOT GETTING PANICKY, LET’S NOT PANIC…just not sleeping well. Which sucks. And then tends to make me more anxious. And then I go to BlogHer and my anxiety almost kills me to the point where I almost vomit and shit myself at a table of 20 bloggers ON MY FIRST NIGHT THERE…<wraspy fast breathing> OH WAIT. That was last year.

I forgot I’m not talking about #blogher12. And I also forgot this isn’t Twitter. (Which, PS. If you don’t follow me on the Twitters yet, you totes should. I’m there way more often than I am here.)

And since it’s been over 2 weeks since I posted last, here’s what I’ve been up to:

  • Painting the exterior of our house & garage. (NOT FUN) (buy our house)
  • Getting a new garage door hung (buy our house)
  • Hauling rocks out of our backyard where a kennel once stood. (buy our house)
  • And general toddler business, like trying to potty-train and re-sleep train Abbers. (buy our house)

Did you see what I did there? It’s called “Shitty subliminal blogger messaging.” Don’t you suddenly feel like buying my house? I thought so. LUCKY YOU – we’re planning on putting it on the market early this fall! Hence the painting and rock hauling and caring about garage doors. Mama needs more space and if we’re planning on adding another germ-magnet to the family (NO I’M NOT PREGNANT, MOM) we need more usable space. And a better school district. And a two car garage. And three million dollhairs. And a McDonald’s Coke machine in my kitchen. You know, typical wishlist items for the possible “forever home.”

So that’s me in a nutshell. I’m going to try to get a few more posts in here after each weekend of madness so you can follow along with all the fun. But we all know what a half-assed blogger I am. I make and break promises like Justin Bieber influences lesbian style around the world.

image courtesy of wwtdd.com