The Opposite of Awesome

I was weighing myself because I’m pregnant and it was Monday.  I lead a very exciting life, I know.

Brian: “I wonder when you’ll weigh as much as me?”

Me: “What?  I’ll never weigh as much as you.  You’re always going to be fatter than me.  Always.”

Brian:  “Oh yeah?  Let’s see then.”

I write down my new weight for this week.  On average, I’ve been gaining about 2 pounds a week for a while now.

Brian then weighed himself.  To my horror, it was only about 3 pounds heavier.

Me:  “I don’t think so!  You didn’t eat enough for dinner!  Here, have this muffin.”

Brian:  “See?!  Only about another week and a half and we’ll be the same!”

Me:  “Hang on, let me pee and I’ll weigh myself again.  I probably have a few pounds of pee in here.”

Brian:  “But now you know how I feel!”

Me: “Please, Brian, tell me how it feels to be you.  Because this is so the same.’

Brian: “…it feels awesome?”

Me:  “Yes.  My swollen hands and feet feel awesome.  So does your baby’s head pushing on my cervix.  Do you know what that feels like?”

Brian:  “…the opposite of awesome?”

Me: “Now get in the kitchen and go eat some muffins.  But make sure to save me one.  Or ten.”

Fast forward to last night – another Monday night weigh-in.

Ladies and gentlemen, it’s happened.  Brian and I now weigh the same.

He did an odd sort of happy dance.  I got into a sumo stance, pushed him over, and sat on him.

It felt awesome.

Things Not to Say to a Pregnant Lady

Hey, this is Brian.

Yup, the husband-of-a-pregnant-blogger-Melissa Brian.

I’m here to school all the partners of pregnant ladies so that they get through the experience relatively unscathed.

Can you believe Melissa actually let me on here to write my very own post?

Yeah, neither can I…because this is Melissa, and I am writing this from Brian’s point of view with his general oversight and mild approval.  Learn from these tales, my friends.

 Brunch-tastic

I decided to wait to eat breakfast on this lovely Sunday morning, opting for brunch instead.  Of course, Melissa wolfed down two bowls of cereal and about ten lemon poppyseed muffins before I even got out of bed, so I figured she’d be good for a while.

I walk into the room with my beautifully prepared brunch and I see that she’s on her computer.  I sit down next to her.  She looks up expectantly.  “What’s that?”

I paused, realizing my mistake too late.  Could I still get away?  Maybe I could pretend that I didn’t hear her.

I faced my fate head-on: “Uh…it’s a sandwich.  Made with this delicious bagel, pesto, lettuce…and from diseased deli meat and unpasteurized cheese.”

At Melissa’s rageful silence, I got up and backed away slowly, and once I was a safe distance away, I threw another muffin at her for good measure.

 The Hangry Plan

Pregnant ladies have gold medals in being hangry, so Melissa and I have learned to try and plan for the worst when we go out shopping or to run some errands.  We bring water and snacks, and we also conjure up contingency plans, especially since she’ll be less able to run and defend herself in the event of a zombie apocalypse breaking out mid-outing.

For this particular outing, I wanted to go clothes shopping, and I gave Melissa the option of staying home, but she insisted on getting out of the apartment.

Melissa: “If I get hangry, just drop me at Cinnabon.”

Me: “You mean when you get hangry.”

Pregnant glare.

Me: “And we may have to think of somewhere else, because they went out of business.”

Wide-eyed, panicked Melissa: “What?!”

Me, making sure I was more than an arm’s length away: “Ha, just kidding.  You totally believed me!”

Melissa: “You are dead to me.”

 

The Sperm Whale

We’re at the doctor’s office, and Melissa has some fetal heart monitors strapped to her belly to check some things out.  Everything was awesome, and when they took the monitors off, they had made two round impressions on her very pregnant belly.

As Melissa was getting dressed, I giggled.

Melissa: “What?”

Me: “Nothing, it’s just that you reminded me of a sperm whale.”

Melissa, her tone of voice flat-lining: “…a whatnow?”

Me, as I point to her belly: “You know, the sperm whale surfaces and the squid has been attacking it, and you can see where the squid’s suction cups were stuck to the whale.”

Melissa: “And that makes me a sperm whale?”

Me: “…a small, cute one!”

Melissa: “You know what else sperm whales can do?”

And without waiting for an answer, she sat on me.

 

The Jungle Cat

It’s 6 in the morning, and Melissa got up with me because she couldn’t sleep, so she was naturally hungry again.  But also because she loves me madly and couldn’t bear to miss seeing me off to work.  As you recall from previous blog posts, it’s my responsibility to feed the meowing, howling cat at this time of day.

After spending a few minutes in the bathroom doing disgusting boy things, I entered the kitchen and threw some kibble in the cat’s bowl.  The howling stopped, replaced by sounds of frantic gulping as she turned all of her attention to her food bowl.  I looked up and realized that my cat and pregnant wife mirrored each other – each were hunched over their food in intense focus, like jungle cats tearing their fresh prey apart.  Melissa even had on adorable cheetah print skivvies.

Foolishly, I reached over and patted Melissa’s bum.  “You’re like a cheetah!” I told her. And then I growled for good measure.

Melissa looked up from her peanut butter and jelly topped onion bagel.  “Huh?!” she said with her mouth full.

I pointed at her underwear and growled again.

She looked down and then quickly looked back up.  “Yeah, I can’t see what underwear I am wearing from this angle.  Thanks.”

“Well…it looks fabulous!”

And then I threw another muffin and ran away.

 

Have the lambs stopped screaming yet, Clarice?

Brian is reading off the crock pot box about all its bells and whistles.  We’re about to open it – finally, as it was a wedding gift – in an effort to help get us through this colder-than-expected Oregon winter.

The following is a dramatic reenactment, based on true events.

B: “Wow!  It says 6 quarts, 7 people!  This is going to be great!”

Me: “Wait, what?  It can hold 6 quarts or 7 people?  Is this marketed to serial killers?!”

B: “Uh, I think it means 6 quarts will feed 7 people.”

Me: “But it didn’t say that, did it?  See here, it just says ’7 people.’  It says nothing about feeding.  I bet there are instructions in there on how to cut the people up properly so they all fit inside.”

B: “I seriously doubt that.”

Me: “Remember, I’ve never used a crock pot before.  I’ve also never killed anyone, but you’ve got to admit, this sounds like an interesting way to finish the job.  Is it at least marketed to the growing cannibal population?”

B: “I’m going to ignore that last comment.”

Me: “I hope you brought home some Chianti.”

Hey Brian, you might want to read this one…

Ten years ago today, I was nervous.  I was excited.  I didn’t know what was going to happen.

Ten years ago today, it was a Saturday.  I had just asked you out the day before and today was the day – our first date.

Ten years ago today, we had ice cream together.  We walked and talked and I didn’t want the night to end, and neither did you, so I guess it really never did.

I can’t believe how fast these ten years have flown by.  We’ve grown up together, and I can’t imagine my life without you.  It’s like that lyric from that one Jewel song: you make the world make sense.

One week from today, we’re going to get married!

One week from today, we’re going to pledge to keep walking and talking because we don’t want this awesomeness to end…ever.

One week from today, I’m probably going to be nervous.  I’ll be excited!  And I don’t know what’s going to happen.

But whatever happens, I wanna be there with you.  Eating ice cream.

2003

2003

2013

2013

These pictures pretty much sum up our relationship

“I want you to run after her, Brian! Like you’re the bear and she’s the honey!”

I’m pretty sure this is when the blood was drawn. See: face.

Gonna vom-

I can fly!

Too cute for words.

Death of a Hairy Beast

He knew his days were numbered.

How did he know?  Just a feeling… The evil glares from the female were becoming more frequent and somehow even more tempestuous than usual.  He saw the flash of a sharp blade being placed on the counter and the unmistakable slurpy fizzle of Gillette exiting the can.

Could it be?  He’d lasted over a year, longer than expected.  He saw birthdays, anniversaries, made it for the backpacking trip.  He posed for pictures, he shat in bathroom cups.  He was tolerated.

And now it was time to go down in a display of frothy white, hairy glory.  Now it’s time to say goodbye.

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To be fair, he wasn’t all bad.  He actually made Brian look older and more rugged, just a different version of himself.  Looking back, I am surprised that I got so used to having him around that it’s a bit of a shock now that he’s gone…even though him being gone is the default state, the normal one.

We may meet again one day, Bearduardo.  Don’t think I don’t know that.  If you decide to come back, I’ll be ready.

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My Cup Runneth Over

I’m way behind in my blog-postiness and that pains me.

I still need to blog about the awesome flour bombing competition me and my pilotboy practiced for and participated in.

Someone awesome nominated me for another blogging award, and I have yet to write a post accepting that.

But before those can happen, I must spread the joy that is growing in leaps and bounds in my life.  Not only did I recently get licensed as a real live therapist, but this happened as well:

That’s right, my friends!  This shit is happening!

Brian and I met at the most awesome job in the world – Summer Nature Camp – and he wanted to propose in the place where it all started.  Full circle.  Cue fireworks and rainbows.

Apparently he had been trying to get me to go geocaching (yet another awesome post I have yet to write) in the park where the camp takes place for a couple of weeks as a way of luring me back to camp so he could make me the happiest woman alive.  And apparently I was very stubborn.  See, he said “let’s go geocaching at the park” and I heard “let’s go traipse through waist-high, snake-filled weeds and get dirty and smelly.”

Unless there’s a very expensive piece of jewelry involved, no thanks.

Well, Brian finally convinced me to go despite it being the hottest day of the year thus far.  As I was getting ready to go, I had a fluttering thought that maybe – just maaayybe – this might be the day.

So we gooped up with sunscreen and traipsed around and we found 4 lovely geocaches and got supremely sweaty and smelly.  We also had an awesome time getting all sentimental with memories from camp – the best job ever in the history of jobs.

Brian wanted to propose in front of the Seven Bedroom House – the building from which we ran camp, and also the building in front of which Brian and I first met almost exactly 10 years ago and also the building in front of which I first asked Brian out almost exactly 9 years ago.  This building is extra special, right down to the peeling lead paint and the attic covered in Hantavirus.

But Brian couldn’t propose in front of the Seven Bedroom House because our former fellow counselors were working, getting ready for the next day (today), the first day of camp for the summer.  So after visiting with them, Brian acted like it was time to go and we walked back down the hill, hand-in-hand, past the fire pit and across the footbridge that goes over the pond on the way to the car.  In the middle of the footbridge Brian stops me and BAM – he’s on one knee.  The rest is history!

Thank goodness we didn’t drop that ring in the water.

One Ring to rule them all…

 

The Return of Bearduardo

…ok, well, it never really went away.

In fact, it’s growing.  And, quite frankly, it’s freaking me the hell out.  Stop it.

As all 7 of you know, Bearduardo made his first appearance a few months ago and has overstayed his welcome.  At first, I was lenient.  Curious, even.  And you know, I gotta admit, Brian does look pretty damn good for a rugged, bearded manly boyman when Bearduardo is tamed and behaving himself.  Observe:

I don’t quite know what’s happened, but this hairy alien leech growing on Brian’s lower face region is…exploring the space.  Bearduardo has reached maturity and apparently wants to be set free out into the world.  Sow his wild thick, kinky oats.  Sasquatch Cheeks has already stabbed me repeatedly in the upper lip, and that last time I was barely able to escape unscathed.  It’s getting so precarious that I’m afraid to go to sleep at night.  I have nightmares that long, rough, hairy tentacles will slink across the pillow and take me out of the equation so Brian and Bearduardo can have a long, happy, hairy life together.  *shudder*

Since I’m convinced Beardy-Boy has grown ears beneath all that keratin, I have attempted to give Brian nonverbal feedback about the diabolical toll Bearduardo is taking as well as my growing discomfort and upchuck reflex.  Observe:

And I haven’t even gone into how I find little Bearduardo droppings in my pink bathroom cup every other morning.  Sigh.

Look, I’ve seen Little Shop of Horrors and I know how this story ends.  I just hope I can get to the shaving cream before it’s too late.

Um, something evil is growing on your face

I’ve been with my partner a long time.  I actually kinda like the guy.

Around the time we met and started being a thang, he looked like this:

Look at that.  Cute, adorable, boy-next-door good looks and charm.

We’ve been through a lot together.  Long distance while we were in undergrad, even longer distance when I studied abroad, we moved across the country together, moved back, and then there was that zombie attack we survived that one time.

We also put up with a lot of crap from the other.  I hog the covers.  I sleep diagonally.  He is farty, burpy, and smelly.  Are we even?  Not even close.

Recently, Brian graduated with his master’s in mechanical engineering with a concentration in being a huge nerd.  Shortly after graduating, Brian decided to have a late 20s life crisis.  He started working out again, he decided to buy a gun, and he decided to let nature take its course and crap all over his face.  Now he looks like this:

How do I interpret this sudden change in behavior?  Does he need to get in touch with his manhood?  His inner lumberjack?  Or does he just want to chafe off several layers of my carefully exfoliated and moisturized facial skin?  …all of the above?

More importantly, when will this phase end?  *gasp* – It is just a phase, right?

I mean, Brian’s experimented with facial hair in the past.  This one time, he grew a goatee for a few weeks, but that didn’t work out.  Maybe the goatee cheated on him, I dunno.

And then, and then, there was the time he grew a soul patch.  You know, the type that says I am way too laid back to care about what’s really important like income tax or having regular bowel movements.  Its name was Chilly.  Because it looked like a mini chinchilla right there below his lower lip.  In the end, Chilly had to go, too.

But our relationship was able to survive Goaty and Chilly.  They were candles in the wind, just summer flings.  This newcomer, though, this face-creeper has worn out his welcome.

Brian says he doesn’t want to shave it off say goodbye to Bearduardo until he gets the chance to go backpacking with it.  That’s right, they want to go away together for a romantic long weekend.  Sure, Bearduardo can keep you warm at night, but he requires so much maintenance.  He’s so…needy.  And not only that, but think about how I feel when I find evidence of your time together in my bathroom cup every other morning.  That manwhore has to flaunt his existence by leaving trimming entrails in my fucking cup.  Have you no shame?!

And you deserve better, you really do.  He’s literally come between us, can’t you see?…I try to kiss you and too often I get jabbed by of dozens of tiny swords.  They sting me with jealousy and spite.

Come back to me, Brian.  Don’t listen to him – I can love you better, softer, gentler.

Well, all I can say is that there ain’t room for both of us in this love nest.  It’s either Caterpillar Cheeks or me.  I’ve been patient, I’ve understood the need to get this fling out of your system, to validate your manhood, etc., etc.  Now it’s time to let Chuck Norris have his job back.

I’ll be waiting.

I’m bringing joy to the picnic

I get the symbolism, the tradition of making new years resolutions, but what I don’t get is why people keep making them since they don’t work.

I’ve observed that the nature of the most common new years resolutions is often to do something that we “should” be doing already anyway: lose weight, stop smoking, exercise more, eat better.  The “should” is in quotes because my immediate response to “shoulds” and “have tos” is “who says?!”  The “should” is a value statement that came from somewhere- friends, family, the media, society, etc. -and a person has to believe in a “should” in order for it to have any meaning.  Very arbitrary indeed.

My assumption is that people who make new years resolutions must be resolving to do something that they don’t want to do…otherwise, wouldn’t they have just done it already?  If quitting smoking was something that you really, truly wanted to do, then why would you wait to begin doing it until the first of the year?

I am rejecting this guilt-based form of resolutions!  I support joy-based resolutions!  I am resolving to do things that I like to do, things that bring me JOY!  One thing I started doing already (because why wait?!) and that is to blog.  Check.  The other is to take my picture everyday for at least the year of 2012.  So far so good.  Another is to continue to read. 

In my attempt to pass on the joy I experienced through reading this year, below is my year in book reviews for 2011.  They are listed in the order I read them, and an asterisk (*) means I had read the book before.  Enjoy!


1. *Cat’s Cradle – Kurt Vonnegut

I had read this in high school and remembered liking it.  I think I am a Bokononist at heart. I just love the close-to-home absurdity of it all! 

2. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo – Stieg Larsson
3. The Girl who Played with Fire – Stieg Larsson
4. The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest – Stieg Larsson

I just tore through these books, and I think they really highlight the year for me, especially since I followed these with the three Swedish and first American movie versions.

5. Enlightened Sexism – Susan Douglas

Awesome non-fiction about how sexism as backlash is more covert in the media now more than ever.  I like books that teach me how to be a more critical consumer of media.

6. Gone – Michael Grant

The Michael Grant Gone series (more below) are young adult books, and even though they start to go a crazy, far-out TV show Lost route, they are still fun, easy, and imaginative reads.  I look forward to the few more in the series he has yet to write.  Basic premise is that in one moment everyone in this town over the age of 15 just disappears…

7. Bossypants – Tina Fey

Tina, I love you, I love you, I love you!  This autobiographical hilarity she calls a book is well worth it.

8. *A Wrinkle in Time – Madeleine L’Engle

I read this one as a child and reading it again made me feel like I was 10 again.  Love the power of books.

9. Hunger – Michael Grant
10. Lies – Michael Grant
11. Plague – Michael Grant

These titles really indicate how the plot thickens…

12. *Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows – JK Rowling

I think this was at least my third read.  I had to read it before the last movie came out so that I could properly tear the movie apart for inconsistencies.  The end of all things Harry Potter was and still is traumatic for me…

13. *Tales of Beedle the Bard – JK Rowling

To ease the pain of the Harry saga coming to an end, I read this for the second time.  For this reading, I actually read one story out loud each night to the boyman before we went to sleep.  He hadn’t heard them before, and there was something magical about sharing the stories out loud to someone else.

14. The Golden Compass – Philip Pullman

So this book seemed right up my alley.  I was still mourning the loss of Harry, and I figured this whimsical fantasy with a female protagonist would help ease the pain…but it was soooo slow and parts were boring and I struggled to get through it.  I struggled so badly that I gave up hope trying to finish the series.  Maybe someday I’ll try it again.  And maybe I learned the hard way that nothing can ever take the Harry Potter PTSD away.

15. Into Thin Air – Jon Krakauer

This non-fiction first account of a disastrous trip to the top of Everest was the most captivating and anxiety-provoking book of the year for me.  I could not put this down, and I even had dreams about being in mortal peril in the freezing snow and not having enough oxygen.  I recommend this adventure of a book!

16. Water for Elephants – Sara Gruen

I remember that at this point in the year, I said that I would choose media devoid of abuse and trauma, so I chose what I thought was a charming, old-timey circus fling.  Sigh.  I still enjoyed it, even though there was some domestic violence and animal abuse thrown in there. 

17. A Stolen Life – Jaycee Dugard

At this point I think my curiosity got the better of me and I threw out my rule about choosing books free of abuse.  This book gets me enraged and hopeful at the same time.  Enraged that someone could do horrible things to someone else for SO LONG before getting caught, and hopeful because Jaycee and her girls are so resilient and kind and determined and not broken in any way.

18. The Help – Kathryn Stockett

Phenomenal book, beautifully written.  This book makes me want to visit the south.

19. The Whistleblower – Kathryn Bolkovac and Cari Lynn

Here is another example where I couldn’t help myself.  This is a true story where Kathryn, a cop, was hired to help prevent and police sex trafficking in Bosnia, only her superiors were sabotaging her work and were consumers of the sex trade themselves.  I love a story where women kick ass and not only take names, but take them to court!

20. Dress your Family in Corduroy and Denim – David Sedaris

I had heard good things about Sedaris, and so I borrowed this book from a friend.  Full of autobiographical stories of David’s family and life growing up.  He has this dry humor I find amusing, although I expected the stories to be more laugh out loud funny.

21. Holidays on Ice – David Sedaris

More stories, less autobiographical.  I found that these stories were either hit or miss for me.  One was absolutely hilarious, and the other was so over the top that it missed its mark.

~Here’s to many more happy, fun, exciting reads for 2012!~