A conversation between idiots

A couple of days ago I was showing Lindsay the brilliant idea that is Pinterest and we came across this picture.

When I saw it, I pointed it out and said "Aw, I wanna get married again just so this can happen".  Almost simultaneously we both said "but that'd mean we'd have to touch each other."    Evidence #1 of the dysfunction. 

It is not uncommon for Kaylyn to call us names like Captain Poophead and for us not to even notice it.   Evidence #2.  

 Occasionally, Lindsay and Kaylyn will let me mess around with their hair or make up.   The whole time I'm doing it, all I can think of is how bad their breath is, how annoyingly heavy they breathe and how uncomfortably close we are standing.   I let them know each time I have these thoughts.  Evidence #3.

If you ever read our posts to each other on facebook, you'll notice we call each other names like, dummy, retard, poo face, idiot.. a lot.  Even when we're talking about something serious, the name calling still happens.   Sometimes we mean it literally.  Like Lindsay is a poo face - plain and simple.    But other times there is more to it than that.   

I call Lindsay is retard.  Sometimes it means "hey friend, I'm glad you're my sister and I value your opinion."

Lindsay calls Gable a turd.  Sometimes it means "I wish I could spend more time with you, dearest brother"

Kaylyn calls me a dork.  Sometimes it means "That was funny and I wish I was as clever as you. You're my hero"   (It's true.  I just know it.)

So to Lindsay, Gable and Kaylyn -  ya'll are the biggest retards I know.  I'm so glad ya'll are my family of turd heads.   

Single tear.

I'm not crazy. You're crazy. I'm not crazy. You're crazy.

Speaking of fear...

I love sci-fi. Marrying Carey has made me love it even more.   We've just started watching Star Trek Enterprise on Netflix.  It's good.    The end.

Anyway, around this time last year we got obsessed with watching Dr. Who on Netflix.    There were some nights we'd watch from the time Carey got off work to 2 or 3 in the morning.  It's strange to think that I loved it so much at the time because most of the episodes are about really creepy, kinda scary stuff. I scare easily, have I mentioned? Anyway, there's this one episode of Dr. Who about these aliens that take the form of these Angel Statues. They call them the Weeping Angels.   Doesn't sound that creepy, right?  WRONG.    Here's the deal.   They first appear in the episode like these pretty angel statues you see but they have their hands covering their faces.   Come to find out they turn to stone when anybody is looking at them because you can't kill something that's stone.  And they cover their faces because they don't want to see each other and turn to stone looking at one another.   Anyway, when you're not looking they come alive and if they can get to you and touch you before you see them, you get sent to another place in time.   So they don't really kill you.  So that's not the creepy part.  

In this episode the main characters have something that they want really badly.    So they start "attacking" these people.    They're in a house and the people have to try to not even blink because blinking allows them to move one step closer to them.   In one scene the guy looks away for one second and the next he's looking back at the angel that is right in his face.  But this guy doesn't look like an angel anymore.  He's all angry and his teeth are showing and they're all pointy and stuff.   At one point these alien angels make the lights flicker and you see them getting a little closer and closer each time it's flickers.

IT'S FLIPPING SCARY, friends.

The thing that really gives me the willies about it is the idea that something is moving and watching you but when you turn to find it, it's not there.   And I'm already not a fan of the dark.

I'm a 26 year old, with a baby, who walks around at night scaring herself thinking about those stupid angels.

So, I turn on You've Got Mail and go to sleep with all the lights on.

Don't you judge me.  Don't you dare judge me.

Commenting

Tonight someone commented on this blog.

I liked it.


I liked it a lot.


It makes me feel like I'm not talking to myself.


Not that I'm uncomfortable with that.   It's kind of my thing.

When I am afraid...

I've always been an anxious and fearful person.   Let me just give you an example.   Back when Carey first started working at ITA he was working in Greenville, SC and traveling a lot.  As in every single week.    The first few weeks of him traveling to and from Greenville, I would call him a million times during that little 4 hour trip, just to make sure he was still ok and hadn't wrecked and died in a fiery car crash.  If, for some reason, he didn't answer his phone after two calls, I would start getting really angry.  By the fourth time, I would be livid and by the sixth call, I would be panicking.   Mind you, these calls were pretty much all back to back and it always ended up being that his phone had died and was having to charge or some kind of similarly logical reason.   I remember one time, he didn't answer after 2 hours of continuous calling.    Maybe you can image what kind of state I was in but if you can't, here's just a taste. At one point, I called the rental car company to ask if they had GPS tracking on the navigation system in his rental. 

Psycho.

Now that Piper is here I feel like if I were to let it, fear could completely overtake me. Not normal motherly fear but crazy, sinful fear. Like I see toys on the floor and envision me tripping, her flying out of my arms onto the hard tile and busting her head open.   She sleeps a little longer than is normal and I go running to make sure she's still breathing.   We take her in the ocean for the first time and she gets brain eating amoeba (THANK YOU Nonnie).

It's not like I sit around biting my nails and dwelling on all these morbid thoughts.  It's just that when any little thing happens, I immediately jump to thinking of the worst, most horrific thing that could possibly happen.  

Anyway, I was flipping through the radio stations the other day and came across a corney, Christian radio skit.  It was about fear, and I think meant for children, but I stopped to listen to it.    They kept mentioning the verse "When I am afraid, I will trust in You".  So I decided this would be my new verse to cling to when I had these moments of craziness.   I tried it for a while, with it being a comfort and making me have the right perspective only about 50% of the time.  In frustration one day I asked the Lord why I couldn't seem to overcome this thing.  Why is it that when I try to remind myself that He is always in control, do I get even more fearful?  Scared of what he might allow to happen because it's what is best for us in the long run.   ...I don't want what's hard but also best, dangit...  I want what's best, sure. But I want what's best to be easy.  And after many times of asking these same questions I had a thought come to me.  When intelligent or insightful thoughts come to me I know it's got to be Him talking to me.   I mean, let's just be honest here.      Anyway, the thought was that you can know a distant relative... let's say a cousin.  And you can know where this cousin grew up, where they went to school, who they married.  But just because you know these things about the cousin doesn't mean that you have a relationship with them.  You run into them every few months in the mall and see them at Thanksgiving and Christmas but that's about it.  You wouldn't necessarily trust this cousin with your life or the life of the ones you love most.  You trust, yeah.. but only to a certain extent.   Being a Christian since I was a very little girl, I've gotten used to terms like "have a relationship with". You can hear something so much and so often that you start to forget what it actually means.  Having a relationship with somebody is having a relationship. Talking with them everyday, knowing what they did last night... knowing them more than just in passing.  For some reason, because He isn't a physical person that I can sit down with over a cup of coffee (or a donut.  Again, let's just be honest) I keep forgetting that I have to make time everyday to "have a relationship" with Him. To not let life keep me from knowing Him.

I guess it's no wonder I have trouble trusting Him.  I let Him become just a distant cousin.  ...I mean, not that knowing and trusting Him makes the painful and scary things less painful or scary, right?  But like I'll have to take little toddler Piper to get her immunizations and explain why they are important for her well being and the people around her, she can always know that I do it because I love her and want what's best for her.

And also that she'll have a huge, chocolate covered ice cream treat waiting for her at the end.

Things that break my heart

1.  Piper has acid reflux.  She doesn't really have many issues with it anymore because she's taking Zantac twice a day.  Today was one of those days that it was obviously bothering her, though.   She had just woken from a nap and was laying there, so happy, when all of a sudden she starts choking and gagging.   It was the longest one yet.  She couldn't catch her breath and it just kept choking her.  When it was over she let out a pitiful little cry and was sort of gasping for breath.    If I had been alone I would have buried my face in her neck and cried.

2. Tivoli was watching Tangled with us the other day.  She was really into it.   Half way through the movie she suddenly looks up at Mama and Lindsay and says "We could go home and get my Princess dress and come right back..?"   Somehow knowing and being able to follow the train of thought that led her to ask this question made me want to cry and hug her.   And she's not even mine.   I'm in trouble.

3. I have this routine of saying over and over to Piper, "Mama loves Piper.. and Daddy loves Piper... but most of all Jesus loves Piper."    For the first time I thought about exactly what I was saying.    I sat and cried like an idiot while she smiled and talked at me.   I feel like if she were able to form words she'd have been telling me to get a grip.

A day in the life of Pipes

**Just a warning. This post is more for my sake than anybody else's. (else's?  Is that not a word because spell check is showing it isn't. hm.)     In fact, it's gonna be downright boring to anybody but me.   But I wanted to use this blog to keep up with important stuff going on with Piper, so that's what this post is...   You've been warned.**

12 weeks old - a typical day:

6 am - Eat (goes right back to sleep immediately after).
8 - 9 - Eat. Up for the day. Plays for about an 1 - 2 hours.  SUPER happy and talks a lot during this time.  Wakes up smiling and laughing at me.
9:30 - 10:30 - Nap.  Mostly in her crib, swaddled with white noise machine going.
12 - Eat. Plays for 1 - 2 hours. 
1 - 2 - Nap off and on.  Normally out running errands so naps are not as consistent.
2:30 - 3:30 - Eat. Plays for 1 - 2 hours.
4 - 5 - Nap. (Mostly at home, in her crib.)
5 - 6 - Eat. Play and nap off and on until bath time.
7:30 - Bath time and Bed time routine starts.

I think she would go to bed earlier than 8pm but it's hard enough getting her to bed that early so she normally starts getting kind of fussy around 7.  I turn on some music and it plays in her room while I'm bathing, changing and feeding her.   Most nights she goes from being extremely fussy to very relaxed almost as soon as she hears that music.   She must know it means bed time is coming.    She loves taking a bath.  Doesn't really care or not care about having a paci at this point.  Will take one for a minute but it normally falls out and she isn't interested in it anymore.

Bed time routine is give her as much milk as she will drink, swaddle, pray, turn off all lights and turn on noise machine.  She isn't crying at all when we leave the room anymore and she sleeps until 6am (almost on the dot) without waking through the night.

Glory, Hallelujah and Amen. 

Inhibited

You know those people who stand on the side of the road holding signs and dancing?

I wonder how they get that job.   Does the company they work for make everyone do it at some point?   Is it assigned to just one person who really, really likes dancing?   Do they volunteer?

If I worked for one of those places, that would be a deal breaker for me.   And I would not be a good sport about it.  

I passed a guy today who was just rockin' out to whatever he was listening to. Honestly... He didn't care who was watching or how stupid he looked.   And even though he did look absolutely ridiculous, I was jealous. 

I wanna bust a sweet, sweet move on the side of the road and not care.  

Oh and you bet your sweet bippy I have some sweet moves.  Yes indeed.

Misunderstood.

-Back in high school I worked for Sylvan Learning Center.  One day the secretary asked me to run some mail around to the mail boxes outside.  I got out there, looked at the 3 or 4 boxes lined up and had no idea which one was the one I was supposed to put it in.   I then walked back inside and asked "is the US postal service one the blue one?".     She laughed at me and said "Bevin we need to get you out more"


-One time, I was cleaning my bathroom and had done a really bad job at cleaning the toilet bowl.   Mama came in telling me to clean it again and in my frustration I exclaimed "But I don't know how to clean a toilet!!".  Lindsay has never let me forget that day.

-Back when I was working at Candler, I was convinced that I had a hearing problem.   I thought I must have earwax clogging my ear or something, so I proceeded to go to an ENT to have my ears checked.   He looked down in them and said they were fine but that I did have a little bit of build up.  Yummy.  Anyway, after the cleaning he asked if I had any questions.  I said "Yeah, how can I keep my ears clean?"      He and the nurse just stared at me for a few seconds before telling me to use a washcloth or a q-tip to clean them at night. As I left the room I heard them laughing at me. 

Because I was too flustered each time to defend my questions, I would like to say, for the record:
--I seriously did not know that the blue box was the USPS one even though it very clearly marked "US postal service" on the side. However, I was 16 and it was the first time I had ever had to do that so show some compassion, Pamela. Gosh.
--I did and do, in fact, know how to scrub a toilet. I was just trying to find a way out of having to do it again, LIN-SAY.
--I wasn't asking how to clean out the part of your ear that you can reach, dummy, I was asking how you keep your ear canal clean cause the q-tip box clearly states you should not stick ANYTHING down in your ear canal.

See. There IS logic behind all my stupidity.

It's been almost a year

So last year was the first year I have ever participated in any kind of Halloween festivities. Which meant I had the fun of trying to figure out what I wanted to dress up as.   Know what I came up with?   80's girl.   Come to find out, the 80's thing is a pretty blah thing to go as.  Like I read on a website that it's one of those things you go as when it's a last minute thing you just throw together.   And  to think -- I was so excited and thought I was being so unique.   Pathetic.
So anyway, October of last year was when I suspected that I was pregnant but wouldn't know until right before Halloween.  As in, I got the positive pregnancy test and then we told everybody the next day at the party. I'm not good at secrets.  But because I suspected that I was pregnant I told Carey that I should find a costume that was an oven with a bun in it. Eh...?  Eh....?  And then when everybody got to our house for the party I'd come out with that costume on and see how long it took for them to notice.     Now tell me that that wouldn't have been awesome, dangit.

Of one thing I am fairly certain.   Gable would have stood in the kitchen oblivious until someone pointed it out to him.

Uncomfortable

Everybody blogs, right?   It's no big deal.  It seems like a fun way to get things out of your system that might not otherwise be shared.   But for some reason it feels awkward that I want to blog. And also that you now know it.   Like, how arrogant and embarrassing for me to think that anybody would care about what I'd have to write.   But the thing is... facebook only allows 500 characters. It's a bummer.  I get tired of having to figure out a way to rearrange things so that I get under that number.  And I like to ramble.    So this is how I decided to just do it.  
I'm glad I shared this moment with you.

So, it'll probably be mostly me rambling about Piper.  I'm getting pretty obsessed with her.  And it's September, which means the holidays are here.  So, I'll probably write about that, too.   Then there's my favorite. Potty humor.  

So basically anyone reading it will afterwards be dumber for doing so.    
I'm sorry.