Patrick and I recently decided to let a homeless family live with us...I mean, it IS Christmas after all. So after interviewing a few prospective candidates, we decided on our good friends, Abby and Steve (and we let them bring their kids too). Kidding aside, we were blessed to be able to share our home with this fabulous family for a little while...and Patrick and I both tried very hard to reign in the deranged zoo that is our household and appear semi-normal for 10 days. This is much harder than it sounds.
I started off the weirdness several weeks before when I announced at Bible study that our son would be sleeping in our closet for the duration of their stay. A few of the fellow moms in the room broke out some seriously horrified expressions. Apparently it is not normal to put your son in a closet to sleep. Or maybe it's not normal to have a closet the size of a bedroom. Whatever the case, normal it ain't.
On the day they moved in, the presence of Claire (our demon possessed cat) made it essential that I lay down our house rules immediately after their arrival. And when your first and only house rule is "Don't leave any baby bottle nipples or sippy cup tops unattended for more than a quarter of a second," I tend to think you automatically get some normal points taken away.
Also immediately after their arrival, Rudy (Abby and Steve's dog) must have questioned Dr. Vezer's credentials, resulting in a dog fight and leaving The Good Doctor irritated and crabby for the duration of their stay. Quixx then thought he would lighten the mood by showing Abby and Steve just how well endowed he thinks he is by proudly displaying his family jewels. Oy.
The next morning came our next normality mess-up...but I must plead ignorance on this one. I really didn't know that it is not normal to sleep in until 9 (or 10) a.m. when you are home with your child (before you go turning me in to child protective services, please note that my child also sleeps that late...yes, even in the closet). Nor did I know that normal people can get themselves and two children ready, fed, and out of the house before 9 a.m. (I am still inclined to think that this is above and beyond normal...but that could just be my laziness talking). I promise myself as I sleepily wander down the stairs at 9:30 and find myself quite alone and in my pajamas, that I will do better tomorrow. (But I don't.)
Fast forward a couple of days, and the grand finale of craziness came during our Bible study's Christmas party, which I had agreed to host. Claire, Oti, and The Honorable Judge Colonel Reverend Felix Ulysses Cornelis Barbosa Cheshire the Third, Leader of the Spanish Inquisition, part-time Pirate and Cat of Wealth (if THAT doesn't prove that we are entirely normal, I don't know WHAT does...) continued to show their true nature by knocking a borrowed crock-pot (sorry again, Katire!!) off our counter and smashing it into a million pieces. I was going to use it to make pulled pork...but don't worry, even though the party started at 5:00 pm and it was now 1:00 pm, I hadn't bought the pork yet. Just call me Kelsey Stewart.
Because I am obviously an excellent party planner, I decided not to worry about it (or cleaning my house) and I roped my mom into going Christmas shopping instead. I figured I'd pick up Cane's chicken for an instant main dish, and voila! Problem would be solved. But when I pulled into the Cane's drive-thru and realized how much it would cost to buy chicken for that many people...I instantly changed my incredibly cheap mind. At 3:00 pm, I lamely ordered my mom and I both a piece (mostly because I am too wimpy to tell the faceless drive-thru speaker that I didn't want anything) and pulled away without a main dish. For the 20 guests. That would be at my dirty house in 2 hours.
So I got home with a pre-cooked ham from GFS in hand and I started hurriedly shoving clutter and assorted things into random drawers, closets, and rooms; all the while trying to figure out how exactly you fix a ham (since of course I've never done that before). I asked Steve whether Abby is ever this disorganized. His reply? "If she is, I don't know about it." Double Oy. Trust me, Patrick knows ALL about it.
But I think we recovered nicely and really were able to show them just how normal of a family we are when we wrapped Claire up and attempted to give her away in the white elephant gift exchange. Totally.unequivocally.normal.
Despite all these social blunders, we really enjoyed getting to spend some time with some of our favorite people (and having dinner made when I got home from work was awesome!) And hopefully we reigned in the weirdness enough that they were able to enjoy it a little bit too. Because trust me, despite all evidence to the contrary, we really were on our best behavior. I mean, Patrick was even able to refrain from talking to the asparagus in the refrigerator until after they left...
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Monday, December 17, 2012
I don't see what anyone can see in anyone else
Patrick and I celebrated our five year wedding anniversary this past Saturday! So that makes us married for 5 years, together for 10.5 years, friends for 15 years, and general acquaintances for approximately 29 years. Now, I could be sappy and tell you how great my hubby is (who else would put up with me??)...but I prefer to give you a running highlight reel of our many, many years together! I'm going to risk a copyright infringement here and call this the "Kelsey and Patrick Not Top Ten."
1. Sunday School Macaroni Art. Patrick is on the far left, I'm the one with the long blonde hair and the bow. I know the picture is fuzzy, but I think I have the glue AND the ribbon that Patrick and I were supposed to be sharing. Kelsey 1, Patrick 0.
2. High school Spanish Project, Junior Year. Patrick is supposed to be Don Quixote. Please notice that Patrick is not only covered in aluminum foil and cotton balls, we also made him pretend to read that Latino gossip magazine with a boy band on the cover. Kelsey 2, Patrick, 0.
3. Spain Trip, Summer of 2001. My dress is really too short for even a teenager, I had just taken my hair out of the cornrows that it had been braided in for the previous two weeks, and the strap to my passport pouch is totally sticking out. Patrick still wears that EXACT same outfit (including the hat). Kelsey 2, Patrick 1.
4. High School Spanish Project, Senior Year. Patrick still wears this outfit too. Kelsey 3, Patrick 1.
5. Senior Prom. Patrick and I were starting to sorta-kinda-maybe like each other...but due to a misunderstanding, Patrick got "confused" and asked one of my friends instead of me. I'm assuming its probably the hair-do that scared him off. Kelsey 3, Patrick 2.
6. Praque. Despite Patrick's best efforts, his hair-do did not scare me off. Kelsey 4, Patrick 2.
7. Our wedding, December 15, 2007. Patrick's snowstorm 'curse' continues when it suddenly dumps a foot of snow within the course of 4 hours. I feel as though I should have known better than to plan an important event that involves Patrick in the winter. Kelsey 4, Patrick 3.
8. Italy. During our honeymoon, Patrick and I each picked a place to go before we had kids. I picked Italy, Patrick picked Australia. Good thing I got to go first. Kelsey 5, Patrick 3.
9. Quixx arrives! I pretty much had been begging for a second dog for the duration of our marriage. I think Patrick finally decided that I wasn't giving up and that it might be easier just to give in. Kelsey 6, Patrick 3.
10. Our 5th anniversary. Dinner is Jersey Mike's subs, eaten in the car in the parking lot of the Columbus Zoo. Romantic? Maybe not. Cheap? For sure. Kelsey 6, Patrick 4.
In review, it appears that I am coming out slightly ahead in this marriage. And maybe our 5th anniversary wasn't spent the EXACT way I pictured it many years ago. But it's safe to say it was much, much better than I ever could have dreamt...
7. Our wedding, December 15, 2007. Patrick's snowstorm 'curse' continues when it suddenly dumps a foot of snow within the course of 4 hours. I feel as though I should have known better than to plan an important event that involves Patrick in the winter. Kelsey 4, Patrick 3.
9. Quixx arrives! I pretty much had been begging for a second dog for the duration of our marriage. I think Patrick finally decided that I wasn't giving up and that it might be easier just to give in. Kelsey 6, Patrick 3.
In review, it appears that I am coming out slightly ahead in this marriage. And maybe our 5th anniversary wasn't spent the EXACT way I pictured it many years ago. But it's safe to say it was much, much better than I ever could have dreamt...
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Stoned
Although I apparently am self-motivated enough to train for and finish a marathon, I appear to not be motivated enough to occasionally get a glass of water for myself. Post marathon, I sort-of-half-heartedly-tried-to-kinda stay hydrated enough to recover. But I failed. Miserably.
About 10 days after the marathon, I started having a single symptom that I felt at the time was probably due to a urinary tract infection. But, I wasn't having any other problems; so I went to the doctor, who assured me that it was not a UTI...but did not provide me with any other answers to why I was having a problem in the first place. He referred me to a urologist, whom I made an appointment with for the following week, and that was that.
Until a few days later, when I woke up in the middle of the night with a cramp in my side and back. At first, it didn't seem too major; I even went downstairs to Google my symptoms (you know, cause that always works...) Eventually however, it got bad enough that I told my hubby I needed to go to to ER. As we waited for my in-laws to come stay with our son, the pain got bad. Then really bad. Then really bad. Then REALLY EXCRUCIATINGLY BAD.
So at 4:30 in the morning, Patrick drove me to the ER. I'm sure that was a fun drive for him. I mean, while puking / barely retaining consciousness because of the pain, I was, no doubt, a wonderful conversationalist. I think it went something like this:
Patrick: Where should I park?
Me: VALET THE STUPID CAR!!! I NEED PAIN MEDS!!!
Patrick: I can't valet, I don't have any cash!
Me: ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! JUST PARK THE DANG CAR!!! NOW!!!!!!
You get the idea. Well, the nice people at the ER got me the aforementioned pain meds...and my conversations got a lot, um, happier. According to Patrick (because I sure don't remember it) the phone call to my boss went a little something like this:
Me (high pitched squeal): Hiiiii!! Guess who has two thumbs and isn't coming to work today?!?!?! THIS GIRL!!!!!!!! Hahahaha!!!
Dean: Um, okay. Well, you rest up.
A CT scan showed that I had a kidney stone, and that it had damaged my ureter on its way to my bladder. And although I felt pretty good (who am I kidding...I felt really freakin' good) when I was on the dilaudid, when that wore off, the pain was still pretty severe from the damage. So Patrick filled my pain med prescription and I begrudgingly took them. Keep in mind that I am a light-weight in the drug department, so please accept my humblest apologies if you were one of the many people who got loopy text messages from me during this time.
So this experience has taught me a few things. First, a lesson in personal responsibility. Just because the marathon is ridiculous enough to not have water available at the finish line doesn't mean that I don't have to be diligent with my own hydration. Second, a lesson in drug abuse. Narcotics + cell phone = bad idea. Third, a lesson in money management. The ER smartly has an ATM right outside its door, so don't be afraid to valet when necessary. Finally, a lesson in pain rankings. Kidney stone > 10 lb baby > marathon. If you don't believe me, just ask Patrick. After all, his 'wife screaming at me' rankings look remarkably similar...
P.S.- I have decided to periodically continue updating this blog. Namely, when I have something interesting to write about. I make no promises that any content will contain a bit of relevance. :)
About 10 days after the marathon, I started having a single symptom that I felt at the time was probably due to a urinary tract infection. But, I wasn't having any other problems; so I went to the doctor, who assured me that it was not a UTI...but did not provide me with any other answers to why I was having a problem in the first place. He referred me to a urologist, whom I made an appointment with for the following week, and that was that.
Until a few days later, when I woke up in the middle of the night with a cramp in my side and back. At first, it didn't seem too major; I even went downstairs to Google my symptoms (you know, cause that always works...) Eventually however, it got bad enough that I told my hubby I needed to go to to ER. As we waited for my in-laws to come stay with our son, the pain got bad. Then really bad. Then really bad. Then REALLY EXCRUCIATINGLY BAD.
So at 4:30 in the morning, Patrick drove me to the ER. I'm sure that was a fun drive for him. I mean, while puking / barely retaining consciousness because of the pain, I was, no doubt, a wonderful conversationalist. I think it went something like this:
Patrick: Where should I park?
Me: VALET THE STUPID CAR!!! I NEED PAIN MEDS!!!
Patrick: I can't valet, I don't have any cash!
Me: ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! JUST PARK THE DANG CAR!!! NOW!!!!!!
You get the idea. Well, the nice people at the ER got me the aforementioned pain meds...and my conversations got a lot, um, happier. According to Patrick (because I sure don't remember it) the phone call to my boss went a little something like this:
Me (high pitched squeal): Hiiiii!! Guess who has two thumbs and isn't coming to work today?!?!?! THIS GIRL!!!!!!!! Hahahaha!!!
Dean: Um, okay. Well, you rest up.
A CT scan showed that I had a kidney stone, and that it had damaged my ureter on its way to my bladder. And although I felt pretty good (who am I kidding...I felt really freakin' good) when I was on the dilaudid, when that wore off, the pain was still pretty severe from the damage. So Patrick filled my pain med prescription and I begrudgingly took them. Keep in mind that I am a light-weight in the drug department, so please accept my humblest apologies if you were one of the many people who got loopy text messages from me during this time.
So this experience has taught me a few things. First, a lesson in personal responsibility. Just because the marathon is ridiculous enough to not have water available at the finish line doesn't mean that I don't have to be diligent with my own hydration. Second, a lesson in drug abuse. Narcotics + cell phone = bad idea. Third, a lesson in money management. The ER smartly has an ATM right outside its door, so don't be afraid to valet when necessary. Finally, a lesson in pain rankings. Kidney stone > 10 lb baby > marathon. If you don't believe me, just ask Patrick. After all, his 'wife screaming at me' rankings look remarkably similar...
P.S.- I have decided to periodically continue updating this blog. Namely, when I have something interesting to write about. I make no promises that any content will contain a bit of relevance. :)
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