sunny side of life

I know that girlymama already posted about this, but I couldn’t resist. My husband, after all, is the person who took this picture, and while it would be funny if he were here, safe and sound at home with me, he’s not, and so I’m only able to chuckle while on breaks from biting my nails and praying for his (and the other’s) safety. Take a look at this:

I’m sorry. I know, I’ve disappeared off the face of the planet and all 2 of you are devastated. This is what has been happening in my life since the last post:

-The previously mentioned puppy is now 25 pounds. When we got him, he was 15 pounds. At this rate, I believe we’ve got a grizzly bear on our hands instead of a dog.

- Italy is expensive.

-Husband is still deployed. No new news there!

- Italy is expensive.

- I bought the CUTEST dress for DDTM’s (a regular commenter) wedding this Saturday.

and these shoes to go with it:

Which were suggested to me by the very helpful gay manager of the store. Because of this shopping trip, I have come to the conclusion that gay men are the best shopping companions for the following reasons:

                   1. Since they’re gay, they won’t try to dress you all scantily clad - they genuinely want you to look your best

                   2. Women tend to be catty and competitive, therefore they may not want you to look your best.

Either way, he was very helpful in finding a cute clutch and accessories that would go with said dress.

- Italy is expensive.

- Someone at work hates me. Seriously. I came into work on Tuesday and this person had taken the time to turn all of my pictures upside down in their respective frames. Not an easy feat, as I have 5 different picture frames on my desk. Also, this morning I came in and someone had removed the monitor cable from my monitor and put it in our conference room. We’re actually pretty sure we know who that was, but the jury is still out on the picture frame culprit.

- Italy is expensive.

- Some pretty big life-decisions are coming up for husband and I that are contingent upon other things falling into place. Like my sister-in-law, I would like to take a tiny peek into the future.

- Italy is expensive.

-June is a busy month in which I have 2 weddings, 2 gradutation parties, 1 graduation ceremony, Separation Day, (believe it or not, this is practiacally a holiday in Delaware. We celebrate our separation from Pennsylvania. As in, we used to be one state. If you didn’t know this, study your American History again please) and 3 different house-sitting jobs. At least July will be here before I know it.

- Italy is expensive.

- I need about $750 more in order to fund my missions trip to the Dominican Republic which is coming up in July and I’m starting to get nervous. Any takers?

- Italy is expensive.

-I think I need bifocals. My vision gets super-blurry every time I sit in front of the computer, but long-distance is fine (I wear contacts).

- Italy is expensive.

- I may, in the next year and a half, move to Kentucky to live for 5 months. More on that later.

- Italy is expensive. In case you didn’t know. Almost everyone has backed out of this trip, but we’re still going. According to a friend of mine “You and hubby will have spent a year apart, you don’t have kids or a house, spend the flippin’ money to see each other. This is once in a lifetime.” So, we’re listening.

I hope that you feel sufficiently updated. Now, leave me alone.

Since November, I’ve had a webcam for a husband.

I feel bad complaining, because if you think back, even 10-ish years ago, this never would have been a possibility for deployed men and their families.

However, it is now, and so I’m spoiled. No use mincing words around here.

I’ve been able to webcam with my husband once every 1-2 weeks. It’s been nice enough; it certainly isn’t what I actually want or need, but it’ll have to do for now I suppose.

So now, my husband is being sent to another location where he won’t have Internet access. For. Three. Weeks. I’m sure you think I’m just being silly. I have done this before you know. He was gone for almost 7 months during the year before we got married and I was only able to talk to him on the phone a couple of times during that particular training period.

It’s different now, though. He’s not in the country. We’re married this time. (which brings into play a whole new way of becoming closer to one another) I love him more. And on and on the list goes. I’m comfortable with my webcam-husband. It’s the only piece I have left and now they’re taking that away from me!

Oh the humanity!

This is a picture of me with my date at my Senior Prom, 6 years ago this month:

Obviously, this man is not my wonderful husband. I decided to participate in Throwback Thursday (for the first time ever!) because it amazes me how much my life has changed since High School. Just sixyears ago. Y’see, I thought for sure that I was going to marry the man in this picture, but I didn’t. (Much to the apparent chagrin of one Mr. Bitler) And I thought, for kicks and shiggles, that I would do a “Top Ten” list of my own. So, I give you;

The (top, because there are many more than are listed here) Ten Things I learned from my Highschool Prom date (my then boyfriend):

10. Pretty does not mean perfect. (except of course in my case)

9. Women should not pursue men. It’s their job, and they’ve also been cursed with the desire to let the woman have her “reign” over them, and so if you do the pursuing, you’re also giving them a good reason to let you do all of the courting and wooing too. Which leads me to….

8. If you pay for his meals, not only does he not owe you that money, but why should he pay for yours if you’re so willing to fork over the cash?

7. Your significant other should want to be around you all of the time.

6. 2nd chances should be just that. Second chances, not 3rd or 4th or 5th……

5. No man’s feet deserve to be graveled at. NONE. (I’m speaking figuratively here, please do not think that I actually graveled at his feet)

4. If he says he’s not sure about you/his feelings for you/your relationship…..GET OUT. He knows you’re week and will settle for 2nd best, so he has no reason to give 100% of himself to you. He will be looking out for someone better than you.

3. There is no one better than you. It’s a shame that he doesn’t see it, but that’s his loss; don’t spend your whole life trying to make him realize that you are the best. He should be opening your door and buying you flowers and such. Unfortunately, he’ll only get it after it’s too late.

2. If NONE of your friends/family think he’s right for you, THEY’RE RIGHT!

And the number ONE thing that I learned from my Highschool Prom date is….

1. I cannot change people, only God can. No matter how much sweeter I wanted him to be, or more committed, or more romantic, or more whatever…….he wasn’t. And I spent far too much of my time agonizing over it. Wasted time. Time I could have spent perfecting my relationship with God, preparing myself for the man who he really wanted me to spend my life with.

I’m sure to some of you I sound bitter, or angry, but I can assure you that those feelings are only toward myself, for allowing it to happen. We were young (remember? highschool) but I had an adult mentality with relationships and wanted far more from him (emotionally) than he was ready to give.

I’m not making excuses for him, it’s true. I think of adult men who act that way much differently; they need to grow up. We were just kids and I thank God every day that he was in my life for 2 reasons.

-As a friend, he was awesome and we really did have some good times together.

-I have an appreciation for my Husbandthat I don’t think I would have otherwise. My husbandeven gets the little things right; He opens doors, surprises me with cards and flowers, and treats me like the lady (or princess, as these terms are interchangable) that I am. I love him so much, and in looking back, don’t think that I would have changed the course of things even if I could.

…of a mother of 4.

Or really, 3 days.

We have some friends who have 5 children (one is away in the Navy) who went to Vegas* and needed someone to watch their children/house/dogs for a couple of days. This couple did a lot for Husband and I in our dating days, and so when the wife called me up to ask if I would be up to the task of watching her kiddos, I couldn’t have said yes quick enough. Plus, her kids are pretty awesome, so that helps in the decision-making process. This isn’t, however, something I would do for just anyone. Four kids is a big responsibility.

So Monday, in addition to having the four kids for the day (when they weren’t in school), I also had my regular “nanny” responsibility, which includes the 2 year old and 3 year old I’ve mentioned here before. Six children. Four of which are under the age of five. (Note to self: have someone shoot you if you ever have quadruplets.) And it was raining. (Note to self: check the weather report before you agree to house/baby/dog sit again.) Needless to say, between feeding the “four under five” lunch, running the twins to pre-school, going to Wal-Mart, trying to squeeze a nap in for my “nanny” kids, picking all four back up from school, all the while in a conversion van,(Note to self: as practical as they seem, they are never cool, never, please don’t every buy one. Remember that you’d rather carry six children on your back than drive one of these things.) then on to after-school snack, homework, and dinner, I was pretty excited to drive 45 minutes to school to have some adult time. Even though I was being lectured the whole time. (Haha, I made a funny!)

Today was a little less hectic (surprisingly) since I had work and the twins didn’t have preschool and their Aunt watched them until I got off of work. The twins, I mean, the older 2 have school all day every day. Although I still had to cart them home, help with homework, do my own homework and then turn around a take a final (which I think I did alright on).

Tomorrow is the last day I’ll have them. It will resemble today, except that I don’t have class and so I can spend my last night with them, well, with them.

As much as I’ve enjoyed this experience, I gotta tell ya, it is the most effective form of birth control I’ve met yet (As a side note, I really think that condoms are the least effective. Not necessarily because they don’t work, but because they’re not so much fun to use, if you catch my drift. I mean, I hate using them, and so I prefer not to, and I do believe that that is how babies are born. Anyway.). Don’t get me wrong, I can’t wait to be a mom; I’d jump at the chance if my husband were here and we had a house to actually put a child in; but I would never want to be thrust into it full force, right off the bat. (Just so you know, I do know that that’s not how it usually happens, I’m just saying)

So that’s my day in the life. I hope you’ve enjoyed it, and I’m sure all you moms out there are like yeah, and? But I’m here to tell you that I started with none and did a pretty darn good job with four, by myself for 4-ish days. Accident free. I think that qualifies me for a medal, no?

*Um, they’re not like party people, the husband actually had a conference there** and the wife was allowed to come along for the ride.

**I’m not sure why anyone would schedule a conference in Vegas if they actually want to get anything accomplished.

“You look like Kristin Cavalleri!” she yelled over the crowd

“Really?!”

“Yeah, you really do, she’s your celebrity twin!”

I pride myself in being able to find a person’s celebrity twin. I can’t do it with every person, and sometimes it takes me a while to figure it out, but when I do, I’m always spot on. Seriously. Whenever I finally make a connection and share it with other people, most of them agree with me.

I haven’t been able to figure mine out though. I think it has something to do with the fact that I see myself too frequently or something. But whatever, someone else figured it out for me. I suppose there could be worse people to resemble.

Here’s to you twinny.

From about the second I figured out that I was Italian, and had the ability to think, I have wanted to visit Italy.

Now, I’ll admit, that I’m not as Italian as my pride suggests.

My great grandfather came over from Italy when he was 13. Now, while I know that it’s not terribly far-removed from my generation, it’s the marrying-out of the Italian-ness that has me all blonde, blue-eyed,  and whatnot. (Just so you know, I’m fully aware that Northern Italians are in fact blonde and blue-eyed, however, my great-grandfather is from Southern Italy, where the dark-haired, dark-skinned folks are from. Hence, my dilemma.)

Anyway, I’m Italian. And proud. I believe this is what we’ve established so far.

So, I tell you all of that, to tell you this.

My husband is deployed this year. (Newsflash!) He gets leave time, and I’m kind of a demanding wife in that I want to see him when he’s on leave.

So this is what we’ve been able to figure out: It’s freakin’ expensive to fly all the way to where he is, and vice versa. (Not to mention that his current location doesn’t so much inspire happy vacation thoughts in me, this seems to be only me, as most people who know his location think I’m nuts and would LOVE to vacation where he is, but I’m not them, and so I have no interest in it.) So we looked into meeting halfway. And you know what? It’s cheaper for us to meet in Rome, Italy than it is for us to buy a ticket for the other to go all the way to where the other is. Make sense? If not, here’s what I mean in a nutshell……

I’M GOING TO ITALY!!!!!!!

I know, right? I’m totally excited for me, too! It won’t be until LATE in the summer, like say August or so, but who cares? I’ll be able to see my husband! (in Italy!) And spend time with him! (in Italy!) And hang out, and chat, and do….married stuff! (in Italy!) And tour Rome! (in Italy, but that was kind of implied, huh?)

I almost can’t believe it, and probably won’t actually believe it until I land. IN ITALY!

My brother and some of his friends will be accompanying me on this trip for 2 reasons:

1. I hate flying. Instead of totally freaking out a stranger on the plane by digging my nails into his skin and grabbing onto his pants’ legs, I will make sure that it is my brother to whom this torture will belong.

2. He really wants to go to, and so who am I to stop him?

I know what you’re thinking. “You’re brother is going with you to Italy? Where you’ll meet up with your husband after having not seen him for 8 months. Won’t you want some, um, privacy?”

Yes we will. And we will have it.

Y’see, my brother’s, friend’s, parents (did you get that chain of people?) have a time-share, and they’re letting us use it to get TWO rooms (which are separate and apart from one another) and all we have to do is pay the fee (which is like $100-ish) for the week! It’s a steal I tell you, a steal!

So it’s all set. I’m going to Italy.

Oh, and seeing my husband too. Can’t forget that!

Because, why not book-end a post about depression with a little dose of TMI?

Ok, So, I figured that the masses (or really just you DDTM, Lemons, girlymama, Em, Rachel, Ellen, Lynn, and you too Robyn! Hey, that’s eight readers! Go me!) would want to know what the heck I was talking about in this post when I mentioned infertility.

So I’ll tell you. But I’m warning you, there’s talk of menstrual cycles and ovaries and the like. It won’t be pretty.

Ok, so some history.

You know, if you’re going to read this it may be awkward the next time we see one another. I mean really. I’m going to use the word period, and not in reference to that cute little dot-thing that ends a sentence. Here’s your chance to back out. I’m just sayin’.

Back to the history.

The period. That lovely little week-long torture session that reminds us that we are, in fact, females just in case we had forgotten during the other 23 blissfully blood-free days in the month.

The cool thing? I have never gotten one regularly. I mean like, monthly. Sometimes I would skip months. I gotta tell you though friends, I was never worried. Seriously. Some people were all “Oh, you really should mention that to your Doctor.” or “That’s just not normal, maybe you should get that checked out.” But I’m here to tell you that those little “moments of concern” on the part of every other female were really moments of JEALOUSY. Don’t try to deny it. You would have been/are too.

So anyway, I was never concerned.

And so, the week before my husband left in November, I got my period (see why I don’t miss it? That was really not a great going-away present). And I was due to get it again upon his return in December around Christmas time (you know, if I was on a normal 28-day cycle) but I didn’t! Yay unregularness that is my female reproductive system!

But then, I didn’t get it in January either, and I was all “Oh my word am I pregnant?! How terrible would that be with my husband deployed? How will I ever handle this?! Oh the humanity!” And then I took a pregnancy test because what other explanation could there possibly be for all of that emotion? (The correct answer to that question is “Um, that your husband was just deployed to a foreign land for a year.” But you know, whatever.)

So it came back negative, and I’m all “Whew, that was close.” But some genius girl in one of my classes said something like “Oh, that doesn’t mean anything, my pregnancy tests came back negative with both of my sons.” So, I’m like whatever, that’s just you. (What I really thought was “Who sells those things anyway? What’s the purpose if they’re not accurate?!”) And when I didn’t get my period on the day (and subsequent days) in February that I was supposed to, I figured that was maybe the time I should go visit the Doctor that no female enjoys visiting.

So I did, and I ran over my symptoms with her and she was like “Well, it sounds to me like your ovaries are Polycystic.” And I mean to tell you that I had a stroke of some sort right in her office because I know what that means because my best friend has that and I learned a lot about it in her early days of figuring it all out. And she must have seen my face drop to the floor, because all of a sudden she tried changing her story to tell me about some other possibilities that could be causing my period to hide for three months.

But all I heard was Polycystic. It just kept ringing in my head. And aside from the fact that it affects a plethora of different things with the female body, the one fact about it that hit me the hardest was that it causes infertility in women. NOT something you want to hear when you actually want children.

Now, it is not impossible for women with PCOS to get pregnant. After all, Lemons did just have a beautiful baby girl, and my other friend who has it has four, that’s FOUR children. But still. When it seems as though all your mother had to do was just walk by your father to get pregnant, (and really, that’s how it happened anyway) then you never really think that infertility will be a blip on your radar.

I was really upset.

They sent me for blood tests and ultra-sounds and stuff to figure out what the heck is going on with me.

Incidentally, on the day they called me to tell me that I was not pregnant (it was one of the blood tests they took) I ended up getting my period. Doesn’t it figure?

So now, a month later, I went back to find out the results of all of that torture. And you wanna know the report?

Nothin’. Not a single thing is wrong. My hormones are fine, my thyroid is great, and my ovaries are cyst-free. She even said that I’m not required to go on birth-control as long as I have at least 4 periods a year. So you know what? All that worrying got me absolutely nothing.

And this is why I hate going to the Doctor. Any questions?

Today is the wedding of my former youth leader to his lovely lady and for the occasion, I had my hair did.  Just “trimmed”* and colored. Not like an up-do or anything, I’m not in the wedding.

Since DCRmom asked me to post a pic of the dress, I will do just that, but there’s also another surprise in it for you that has to do with the little asterisk mark above.

*I did NOT just get it trimmed!

But you’ll have to wait for me to put my face on before I’m willing to post any pictures.

You’re going to love it! I know I do.

**Warning: I ain’t gonna lie, this is kind of a long post. I don’t usually like to make them this long, but this one is worth it. I promise** 

I have a confession to make:

I NEVER check my voice-mail. NEVER.

Ok, not never, just rarely. Very rarely.

As in, I wait until I have about 30+ voice-mail to check it, because the thought of talking to people on the phone makes me crazy. Seriously. What is SO important that you can’t wait to tell me until we see one another again?

You should be able to come to the conclusion that since I’m able to get 30+ voice-mails so quickly, that I never actually answer my phone. There are 4 reasons for this.

1. When I’m at work, I put my phone on silent so as not to disturb those with whom I work. I always forget to take it off of silent mode once work is over and therefore rarely hear it ring.

2. I’m a busy lady. Seriously. I work (including the “Nanny” thing) about 45-50 hours a week, plus I take 3, three-hour classes and volunteer for youth group on FRIDAY nights. This leaves Saturday (when I clean and have some semblance of a social life) Wednesday (night, in which I usually give myself a mid-week break or do homework) and Sunday in which I rest (or try to) because, well, God did and so should I. So, I’m sure that it’s obvious to you that because my personal time is so precious, the last thing I want to be bothered with is a phone call.

3. I’m an administrative assistant. It is MY JOB to answer phones (among other things) and so even if my schedule wasn’t as crazy as number 2 indicates, the likelihood that I would spend time on the phone after work isn’t all that great. Plus, right after I leave work and for the next hour thereafter my first inclination after hearing any phone ring is to pick up and say “Thank you for calling Glasgow Church, this is Fancythis, how may I help you?”

4. I’m lazy. On the off-chance that I remembered to take my phone off of silent mode, and I hear it ringing, it’s usually in some place which requires that I get up from the couch (a place I rarely sit these days) walk over to my purse, dig the phone out, and say hello. That’s too much effort for anyone but my husband. And those are just the facts.

There are exceptions to those rules. Like a phone number I don’t recognize, or someone who wouldn’t ordinarily call me. I will answer the phone, or at the very least, check voice-mail on those particular occasions.

Tonight was one of those exceptional nights in that BOTH exceptions to the rules occurred. All in one day!

One of my former youth leaders (one of the ones who’s getting married and therefore required a brand new dress purchase) called today. He rarely calls me and so I felt this warranted a call-back. He left a voice-mail, but why spend time listening to it if I’m just calling him back anyway and then I’ll have to listen to why he called me twice. Twice! No thank you. So I called, and got sent straight to his voice-mail where I left some clever message like “Hey, it’s Fancythis returning your call, call me back!” (groundbreaking, I tell you) and went about my merry way.

Fast-forward to class tonight.

I was sitting there, not paying attention to my professor, when I noticed that someone was calling. It was a number I didn’t recognize and get this - they called 2 times in the span of 5 minutes! Surely this must be important (not important enough to walk out of class to make sure it wasn’t urgent, mind you) and so I will DEFINITELY be checking voice-mail after this!

So I did.

When I got to the voice-mail left earlier in the day by my former youth leader, do you know what it said Internets, do you? Well I’ll tell you, because of course you don’t!

It said (the paraphrased version):

“Hey Fancythis, it’s “former youth leader”. I was just calling to make sure that you would be at youth group tomorrow night during my talk because I’m going to be bringing you up and utilizing you as part of it. Also, I have something to tell you, but I won’t tell you until tomorrow night in front of the youth group.”

I know right? Who else isn’t TOTALLY dying to find out what the heck is going on?!

I didn’t even care about the other message I got from the person who called me twice in a row. Something about I owe $60 for a bridesmaid dress that I was fitted for like, forever ago, and I have to pay by Saturday otherwise I won’t get the dress. But darnit, I haven’t cared about picking up the dress because they’ve called the wedding off 80,000 times! I don’t want to pay that $60 if this dress ain’t gettin’ put to good use, savvy?

But man, what could this other message mean?! Did I win the lottery? Did he go straight to President Bush and demand that my husband be sent home to me immediately and they’re going to surprise me at youth group tomorrow? What could it be?

I don’t know. But as soon as I know, you’ll know.

After other more important people, I mean.