I'm easily entertained, okay?

So, since tomorrow is Thanksgiving and all, I am sharing some of the things I am thankful for this time of year. Ho, ho, ho, here we go.

1. For the greatest opportunity I ever could have been given. The opportunity to be Max's mommy.




2. The movie Planes, Trains and Automobiles. It is set during Thanksgiving and I laugh (and cry) every time I see it...which used to be a lot because I own it. On VHS. But I don't own a VCR anymore. Maybe it will come on tv?





2. Dental flossers because I like to get cozy this time of year and eat popcorn and drink hot chocolate and there is nothing that will ruin my holiday spirit more than popcorn kernels in my teeth. Well, almost nothing.

3. Cousin Eddie from the National Lampoon's Vacation movies. He is one of my favorite movie characters of all time and I start watching National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation around this time every year. On DVD. Thanks goodness I've updated this one from VHS.

4. Family members who are sensitive to my gluten-free needs and go out of their way to make holiday eatin' just as special for me as it used to be. I was worried when I found out I had celiac disease that the holiday grub would be disappointing since I could no longer have our traditional dressing and pie crusts, but my family, even my in-laws, have tried to come up with new recipes to include me in the food festivities. Thank you!

5. Reddi-Whip. Need I say more?

6. And last, I am thankful for all the crap I have been through this past year. Sure, it was crap. It is still crap. However, despite all the crap, I feel lucky. Why? Because I am stronger. I am humbler. I am more gracious. I am seasoned. I have expanded. I am less judgmental. I am more forgiving. I am appreciative. I am healing. I have faced some of my deepest fears...unemployment, being uninsured, miscarriage, uncertainty, isolation, debt...and I have come out the other side, no more sure of tomorrow than before, but certainly more equipped to handle whatever it is.

So, here's to giving thanks, spreading holiday cheer, and to a peaceful holiday season! May we all get everything we want because frankly, no matter how grateful I am for the crap, I am tired of learning life lessons! I'm droppin' out of school!

Happy Thanksgiving! Peace out!

Are You There God? It's Me, Amy.

So, I know I said I wasn't going to think about any of my problems this weekend and blah, blah, blah, but really? I am a control freak and hate not having control over any of my current circumstances. I'm not too great at "going on faith" or "letting go and letting God." I hang on for dear life until my knuckles are white and bleeding.

So, last night, I decided to pray for guidance to come to me in my dreams, for God and the angels to guide me on whether or not to have my second endometriosis surgery or wait a few more months and keep trying to get pregnant...guidance for ideas on how I can be a work at home mommy and ease the financial burden on my husband...how to find affordable heath insurance...guidance on how to be peaceful and resilient...how to finally discover my life purpose.

And when I awoke this morning, ready to bask in my new knowledge, ready to interpret God's message from the night before, I lay in bed and thought about my dream.

And realized I don' t think God heard me right.

Because last night I dreamed I was having sex with a Chinese man because I was a polygamist and he was one of my three husbands.

That was the whole dream. That's it.

Unless my purpose is to hook it in the personals on Craig's List or move to Utah and marry into one of those Big Love-type families, then...

I definitely don't think God heard me right.

I'm not saying nothin' about nothin'

So, I had a great post all ready for this past Wednesday. I was going to try to write something every other day this week. Frankly, I don't know how you guys who write everyday do it. My house looks like the Tazmanian Devil spun through every room as it is. I should never be blogging. But, I am addicted, so there goes the house.

Anyway, I had a great post all ready for Wednesday about how certain types of people seem to be supernaturally fertile and how the Fertility Gods like to just throw babies at these people. It was complete with pictures of the Duggars and Cousin Eddie from the National Lampoon's Vacation movies and everything. But, my husband thought it was in poor taste and could be construed as offensive, and seeing how I am crazed and delirious from menstrual hormones and disappointed, once again, by something I peed on, I thought perhaps he might be right.

So, instead, I will talk about this. Health insurance. Now, isn't this more interesting?

No, it's not, but it is politically correct.

Health insurance. What a racket.

Okay, that's it.

I promised myself I wasn't going to think about any of my problems today or tomorrow or Sunday. No thinking time given to money woes, or medical bills woes, or we're-getting-screwed-out-of-our-life-savings-in-order-to-afford-health-insurance woes, or endometriosis and baby-makin' woes. It's a no woe weekend. Starting............................................................NOW!

Let's talk about Star Wars again. Goody, goody, gumdrops!

So, my 3-yr old nephew came over again yesterday and the first thing he said was, "I wanna watch Star Wars." I was so proud.

Until the only part he wanted to watch was the scene he calls the "dirty trash water part", where Luke, Han and Leia are trapped in a giant trash compactor. He wanted to see it over and over and over again. I even tried to distract him with the Ewoks in Return of the Jedi (what kid doesn't love Ewoks?), but he wasn't impressed. "Where is the dirty trash water part? I want to see the dirty trash water part!" Damn dirty trash water.

Then, at lunchtime, my son threw up the chicken nugget he was eating along with everything he had for breakfast because he was throwing a tantrum in his highchair. He wanted the apples and peanut butter my nephew was eating, even though my son doesn't like peanut butter and he is much too young for apples. I eventually had to separate them and feed my son in the kitchen and my nephew in the living room so I could get my son to eat something.

I spent their naptimes on the phone with health insurance companies (oh crap, there I go again) and by the time my husband came home from work, the house looked like I had that dang Tazmanian Devil over for coffee again. Stupid Tazmanian Devil.

Help Me Obi-Wan Kenobi! You're My Only Hope!

So, last week during my coccyx debacle, I agreed to babysit my 3-yr old nephew for an entire day. Thursday. From about 8:30 am until 8:30 pm, with a 2 1/2 hr break somewhere in between.

I love my nephew, MP, and my one-yr old son thinks MP is the coolest dude he has ever seen...the absolute greatest thing since Blue's Clues. My son followed MP around everywhere he went, constantly touching him, petting his hair, touching his face, poking his eyes, patting his back. He wanted to play with every toy my nephew was playing with and anything that came out of my nephew's mouth was golden and hilarious to my son.

Soon into the day, I found out my nephew had never seen Star Wars. Which is basically blasphemy in this house. Star Wars is one of the basic commonalities that my husband and I based our relationship on in the beginning. Star Wars and To Kill A Mockingbird. And The Carpenters. And co-dependency. And booze. Anyway, getting off subject here....

So, I slipped in the DVD and off we went...to the Death Star. And eighteen gazillion million ba-billion questions later, we turned it off.

MP: "Is that a bad dude?"

Me: "Yes, his name is Darth Vader."

MP: "Are those bad dudes?"

Me: "Yes, they are storm troopers."

MP: "What are they doing?"

Me: "Shooting their laser guns."

MP: "Lasers...hmmmm...have you ever seen a movie called, "Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs?"

Me: "No, I haven't."

MP: "Oh. What are those?"

Me: "Those are robots. That is C3PO and that is R2D2."

MP: "What are robots?"

Me: "They are like people because they can walk and talk, but they are machines made out of metal."

MP: "Metal....hmmmm...have you ever seen a movie called, "Mario Kart and Rainbows?"

Me: "Mmmmm...no I haven't."

MP: "Oh. Who are those people?"

Me: "They are Luke Skywalker's aunt and uncle."

MP: "Are they Star Wars people?"

Me: "Yes."

MP: "Are they in Star Wars?"

Me: "Yes, we are still watching Star Wars, so they are in Star Wars."

MP: "Oh. Can they move?"

Me: "Yes, they are people just like you and me, so they can move."

MP: "Have you ever seen a movie called, "Mario and Luigi?"

Me: "No, I haven't."

MP: "Have you ever seen a movie called, "Star Wars and Car Wars?"

Me: "No, I haven't."

MP: "Oh. Who is that lady?"

Me: "That is Princess Leia. Isn't she pretty?"

MP: "Where is the other lady?"

Me: "What other lady? There is no other lady."

MP: "Yes there is."

Me: "No there isn't."

MP: "Yes there is."

Me: "No, there isn't."

MP: "Oh. Have you ever seen a movie called, "Get up from your nap and take off your pull-up and put on your underwear and pants and go into the kitchen and eat somethin'?"

Me: "No, I haven't. And I think you made that up."

MP: uncontrollable laughter

Needless to say, he lost interest in Star Wars after about three seconds. But, I am happy to report that I was the first to introduce it to him. Not that he will remember, but I will. And that's enough.

Bruised and janked.

find the humor...find the humor...find the humor...

Okay. I'm good. Had to remind myself to find the humor.

This week has been I-bruised-my-tailbone-and-found-out-I-wasn't-pregnant-again difficult. Because that is exactly what happened.

My husband was out of town for three days this week. A couple of hours after he left town on Monday, I went to look for those second-hand shoes I told you he wanted me to buy for our son. So, basically this is all his fault (I can always find a way....).

I was in the way-overcrowded and too-stuffed used clothing store for about two minutes before I bent down and accidentally rammed the corner of a hard plastic bin into my butt crack, brutally bruising my tailbone. Ouchie.

So, I've been an invalid most of the week, unable to sit down, lay down, bend down, pick up my son, or do anything but stand around and stare at people and things. My poor son wasn't able to understand why I couldn't pick him up or play with him and showed me his general unhappiness by throwing himself on the ground, usually hitting his head on the way down, and crying, to which I could only respond my patting him on the head...if I could reach that far down.

I was lucky to have my fabulous Aunt B and my mom come over to help in the late afternoons for bathtime and dinner time. And when I became brave enough to try to sit, I sat on one of my son's stuffed donut-shaped toys. He has several big, stuffed rings and they all have a different animal's head attached. So, whenever I was sitting on the couch or at the dinner table, I had a stuffed elephant head coming out from between my legs. Awkward.

By Thursday, I was feeling better, able to pick my son up again, although still not able to sit or lay on my back. And, it is about the same today. Yay! I'm improving!

However, last night I took a pregnancy test, hoping this would be the month! After three minutes, I went to the bathroom and looked at the test. It said, "YOU ARE NOT PREGNANT AGAIN, YOUR REPRODUCTIVE SYSTEM IS JANKED AND WHY DO YOU KEEP TORTURING YOURSELF?!!!"

Okay, well, maybe it just said, "Not Pregnant", but I swear that is what I heard. And yes, it talked to me.

All I want for Christmas is to get pregnant without having to have endometriosis surgery again!! Is that too much to ask? It took us thirteen months of trying and a painful surgery before I was able to get pregnant with my first. What did I do in my former life to have such problems getting pregnant? Did I take Jonathan Swift's, A Modest Proposal, a little too literally and eat my kids for dinner? Was I the lying woman in the Bible who told King Solomon to cut her baby in half? What did I do, for Pete's sake (as my mother would say)?!

Anyway, on with the show. I really need to get going on shredding some rotisserie chicken for dinner and washing my mildewed shower curtain. But, who wants to do those things? Okay, okay, I'm going. Sheesh.

TV Turmoil

So, yesterday was supposed to be "family day."

By the end of it, this is how we all felt:


Crazed and exhausted and ready to commit homicide.

Now that my husband has started his new job, he works long hours during the week and when he gets home, he does more work on the computer until around 10 pm. So, the weekend is the only time we have to hang.

We decided Sunday would be our day. We were going to take our son to the park, buy our son his first pair of walking-around shoes, spend the gift certificates that my husband got for his birthday and buy him some new work shirts. Yay!

Not so "yay." We never made it to the park, the shoe department in Sears was chaos and my husband decided AFTER WE WERE ALREADY THERE that he would rather us buy our son some second-hand shoes because he will grow out of them soon. The only thing we managed to do was buy my husband some shirts and fight and get on each other's nerves the ENTIRE day.

It was an icky, icky day.

So, I thought, "Hey, I'm gonna wind down, lay in bed and embrace the ole' boob tube to relax and shake off this day."

Now, we all know that Sunday nights are crap nights for late-night tv. My fave, David Letterman, isn't on. None of the talk shows are on. Sunday nights are for infomercials and B-movies. Sometimes, I will watch the Silent Movie Sunday Nights on the classic movie channel. But last night, I thought I would peruse my options.

Let me tell you, if I wasn't already depressed when I got in bed, I definitely was after I turned on the TV. Holy Mackerel! Everything I turned to was either sad or violent or trashy.

Here is a rundown of just some of the scenes I encountered:

BET: a Feed the Children infomercial. This made me cry immediately, seeing the emaciated children crying with flies on their faces. So, I turned.

The History Channel: an animation of someone stabbing someone else and blood pouring out. Click.

ABC Family: someone crying. Click.

Spike: some Law and Orderish show about a rape. Click.

MSNBC: a show about sexual predators. Click.

FOX: someone talking about an abortion procedure. Click

TruTV: a story about a murder. Click.

HLN: Toxic Bachleor Alerts on Showbiz Tonight. I don't need a "news" show to tell me that Bobby Brown and Jon Gosselin are toxic bachelors. Some ladies might, which is depressing in itself. Click.

Nick at Nite: The Nanny with Fran Drescher. Now, tell me that show doesn't depress you?

TVland: Finally, an old episode of Roseanne! Oh crap. It is one of the last ones before the show was cancelled. You know, the ones after they won the lottery and when Dan and Roseanne were separated. Nobody liked those episodes. Click.

The Disney Channel: Billy Ray Cyrus trying to act. Depressing. Click.

Vh1: Tool Academy. I'm depressed that a show like this exists.

The Weather Channel: hurrican coverage

CNBC: a story on greed in the medical community. Again, I don't need a tv show to tell me I am being robbed. The fact that we can't afford health insurance is a good enough indication.

TNT: the scene in the movie King Kong when he gets shot down off the building and plunges to his death. Seriously. I turned to this channel right when he was being murdered. Depressing. Click.

QVC: Christmas fun that I can't afford. Click.

Seriously, if it wasn't for me finding The Andy Griffith Show on CBS, I might have jumped out our bedroom window and gone running into traffic, all the way devouring a snack-size Snickers in one hand and a carton of ice cream in the other.

Even on The Andy Griffith Show, Andy and Helen were sitting in the patrol car having an argument. It seemed to be everywhere around me. So, what did I do?

I marched straight into the office and started my own fight with my husband. So there, TV. I can create drama too.

It's an Iced Pancake!

So, yesterday was my husband's 38th birthday. All day I kept thinking he was going to be 58 instead and it seemed perfectly believable that he was going to be 20 years older than he actually is...not because he looks 20 years older, but because I feel about 20 years older, so why wouldn't I be married to someone in their fifties? Seems totally acceptable.

Since we don't have much money these days, I really struggled about what to get him. He said he didn't want anything, but come on, everybody needs a little somethin' to open on their birthday! At least I think so. And he said he didn't want to do anything for his birthday because he didn't have enough time. He just wanted to stay home with our son and me and work on the computer.

Boooooooooring!

So, I decided to at least make him a hot breakfast, a special dinner, and bake him a cake.

I bought him Joel Osteen's new audio book, "It's Your Time," to listen to in the car while he is traveling. Even though we have concerns about organized religion and don't attend a church, my husband and I both like Joel Osteen's message of positivity. I have a problem with his view on homosexuality (he thinks it "isn't God's best" when I think it is a gift), but all in all, he is a positive preacher and I like that. No gloom and doom. No guilt and fearing God. I don't believe God should be feared.

Anyway, when did this turn into my views on God? Let's move on.

Then, came the cake. As soon as my son went down for his nap, out came the gluten-free cake mix. I was ready, I was excited, I was willing, I was...wait. Where are my cake pans? Oh, that's right. I don't own any cake pans.

Crap.

I needed to borrow one. All of my neighbors were at work (there are no stay-at-home moms living around me, which makes me sad...I want someone to have tea and coffee with...someone who has kids who can play with my son while we gossip about Patrick Dempsey's hotness and Jon and Kate and vent about our husbands and kids...anyway) except for the sweet retired couple who live next door.

I grabbed my son (who wasn't asleep just yet) and we headed next door. My neighbor graciously let us in, but all she had was a 10x10 cake pan and the recipe called for an 8x8 cake pan. Oh well.

So, my husband ended up with a cake pancake. I had to use a freakin' toothpick to ice the sides. And it was a little dry because I had to guess when to take it out of the oven, so we just loaded the top with ice cream. Ice cream solves everything.

I cooked him Spaghetti Carbonara with roasted plum tomatoes on the side for dinner, neither of which I had ever made...but they turned out yummy! I made a pound of it, thinking we would have some left over, but my husband ate almost all of it, which made me feel creamy and gooey and glad inside.

Patrick Dempsey! Don't Leave Me!

So, I have never felt so relaxed, so confident, so sure of myself. I love my life. Everyday is romance and smiles and big, deep-bellied laughter.

Patrick Dempsey is in love with me, you know. You know, Patrick Dempsey from "Grey's Anatomy" and "Can't Buy Me Love?" He is obsessed with me, actually.

We met at the video store/steak house where he is a manager on his days off from filming. I walked into the backroom and it was love at first sight. He smiled that Doctor McDreamy smile and we melted into each other. Our romance moved quickly and we became inseparable.

One afternoon, he surprised me and said he wanted me to meet one of his co-workers. His "co-worker" turned out to be his father who he wanted to be there when Patrick asked me to marry him! He had even thought to invite my sister! What a sweetheart!

So, yes, we are engaged now. Such a whirlwind romance! Steak houses, flowers, professions of unending, everlasting love. Who could ask for more? We have no kids, no responsibilities. Just the two of us, looking into each other's eyes for eternity.

Oh, look! There is my ex-boyfriend with his child bride!

Helllooo! Yeah, how are you doing? Good? Oh, great. Well, in case you didn't know, I am engaged to Patrick Dempsey. You know, Patrick Dempsey from "Grey's Anatomy".

(what is that scratching sound?)

It is so nice to meet your teenage bride. Isn't it almost her bedtime? Well, I must run if I am going to meet my fiance at the steak house! You know, Patrick Dempsey from "Grey's Anatomy"? So long!

(why is there a baby crying? where is that sound coming from?)

Oh, Patrick! Patrick! I have arrived at the steak house! Oh, you are more in love with me than yesterday? Oh, stop...you are embarassing me! Yes, I love you too.

(scratching...scratching)

Patrick? Where are you going?

(baby crying...)

Wait! Patrick! Don't go! Let me run my fingers through your thick, luxurious hair!

(scratch, more crying)

Please! Don't leave me!!!!!! Wait!!


Crap.

I'm awake.

The dog is scratching on the door and I can hear our son crying over the monitor. You mean, it wasn't real? It was all a dream? I'm not really engaged to Patrick Dempsey? You mean, I have to get up and feed other people and change diapers and wash dirty dog feet and worry about finances? No more whirlwind romance? No more endless amounts of free time? No more rich fiance? I don't think I can face it.

So, what do I do?

"Honey, can you get up with the baby? I didn't get much sleep last night? Do you mind? Oh, thank you baby."

Ah, back to dream land. Not ready to face reality just yet.

May the Force Be With You...

Daddy's scary face...

Oh, golly...okay, you can take my picture...shucks

Our sad attempt at a mean pumpkin face.

Master Yoda.

((oh, please, I beg of you, somebody take these stupid ears off my head...)

He looks bored to tears, but really he was having fun. I promise. He's holding Reese's peanut butter cups in his hands. How can you not have fun holding chocolate and peanut butter?