With all the hype over the royal wedding, I realized that I myself recently got a crown all my own. Rather than opt for diamonds or for gold, or anything else a rapper might think is a sign of his wealth, I picked out the most beautiful pearl on earth. That's right! This fairytale lacks a horsedrawn carriage, a title, mobs of well wishers, and of course a prince. This story is more in the realm of a tooth fairy.
My tooth fairy comes in the form of a new, young dentist who just isn't someone you really want checking out your teeth. Routine check up = fail. Not only did I need a filling, but I also needed none other than a pearly crown. For me, this was new territory. All I could think is that I'll be getting my tooth drilled off and replaced with a fake jewel!
Now that I was already a little rattled, I had to discuss my other problem with the dentist. Apparently, as evidence proves all over my teeth, I am a grinder. During my sleep, my teeth beat each other up, and when I wake up each and every day, they feel slightly different. Yes slightly, itsy bitsy, teeny weeny, a hair, hardly, kind of, or any other way you want to put it they don't feel like my teeth. So, each and every day my teeth annoy my tongue into thinking they are new. So, I ask my dentist what my problem is, and he says he can't help me in that department. Rather, this seems more like a mind game than an actual dental problem. As for the actual teeth grinding I unknowingly do at night, I have some options. A mouthguard is always an option, but I may just want to consider other ways to remedy the situation. My sweet hygenist suggests a massage to destress while my dentist says I might just want to work out more! So in an hour long dental appointment my dentist essentially said I was a fat crazy lady. Lovely.
Now whether or not he meant what he said, I decided I wanted to take his words for face value. I thought that maybe some strange man who has looked deep into my mouth might just motivate me to get off my behind and shed some pounds. After all, I do have a medical condition, at least in my sleep.
2 dentists appointments later, I have a fake tooth, some fillings, and low an behold on my thought to be last appointment for awhile, I need another crown. Same exact spot on the opposite side of my face. I guess liking symmetry is in my bones. Hopefully, my bones also like skinny thighs and fake teeth.
Monday, May 30, 2011
Sunday, March 6, 2011
The Princess & The Pee
Not a single comforter in my house has been left out of Isabella's pee spree. Some have been graced with pee multiple times in the past 3 days. Pee, repee, and Mommy has to repeet the terrible task of washing and painstakingly drying king and queen size comforters which takes forever! I really thought I could have used the Duggar style laundry room this weekend! I can't imagine how much laundry they have to do while potty training a whole herd of kiddos at once.
We are absolutely past the point of return here. Unfortunately, we are starting to discover some hints of laziness in our princess! She'll pee on anything cushy it seems; apparently she is just too comfortable to be bothered to move her cute little baby booty as demonstrated by sitting on the rug in the bathroom floor and letting loose.
If my daughter can tell me she needs to go to the potty every single time we cross the threshold of the Wal-mart entrance, can poop on a potty at a restaurant, and can take a potty break at a movie theather, the girl knows how to pee on the potty at home! It seems I have been princessing my girlie a little too much, and she, in such a mommy made over bout of defiance, figured out that Mommy is a softy.
Please pray for peeless peace at our house.
We are absolutely past the point of return here. Unfortunately, we are starting to discover some hints of laziness in our princess! She'll pee on anything cushy it seems; apparently she is just too comfortable to be bothered to move her cute little baby booty as demonstrated by sitting on the rug in the bathroom floor and letting loose.
If my daughter can tell me she needs to go to the potty every single time we cross the threshold of the Wal-mart entrance, can poop on a potty at a restaurant, and can take a potty break at a movie theather, the girl knows how to pee on the potty at home! It seems I have been princessing my girlie a little too much, and she, in such a mommy made over bout of defiance, figured out that Mommy is a softy.
Please pray for peeless peace at our house.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Snow Daze
Snow 2 weeks in a row has given us the motivation to really work on potty training my little snow bunny. She has gone diaperless since Saturday the 5th, and we, the parents, have gone senseless.
1 single snow day is always a pleasant surprise. 3 days one week, 2 days the next week is a sneak peak at hell. I was not meant to ever be titled Stay at Home in any way. Period.
Perhaps, premarital counseling should also offer a "snowed in" class! This is A LOT of togetherness in a closed in space, and it is easy to get on one another's last nerve.
My husband's rants about me:
You would think that the sheer lack of fun things to do would drive me into an cleaning spree! Sadly, you would think wrong. I somehow managed to do only work related musts and practically zero household things. Somehow it just seemed like unnatural timing. I also realized i had an addition to the Investigation Discovery Channel, which consequently kept me up all night.
My rant's about him:
His unrunning jeep is parked underneath our carport. This means 2 things: a)my car is buried in snow and b)it is so convenient for him to spend time working on his jeep since it is out of the weather and all. He also managed to find the time to rig up a snow plow with his recently purchased four wheeler (and make a much appreciated 4 mile drive to Wal-mart for me with an ice chest strapped to the back of the thing due to my poor grocery planning)!
Isabella's only complaints: She wanted to know where her diapers were, and she wanted to watch Mickey Mouse Clubhouse any chance she got.
She and I only played outside for about 15 minutes, and that ended in yellow snow.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Sight for Sore Eyes
1946: The Willys Jeep is in production as one of the first civilian four wheel drive vehicles ever made.
1972: This predecesor to all sport utility vehicles enters antique status.
1981: My husband is born.
2011: This 1947 Willys Jeep has been neglected over time, and my husband sees the luster it once had. He takes in this artifact of vehicle history.
Our carport has had many loves in the 5 years we have lived here. This particular jeep is the 8th jeep. It was also preceded by a 2 different Chevy Blazers, a Ford Truck, a Toyota Truck, and even one night with a Jeep Truck. Our carport/my husband is essentially the pit and the one man crew to give these vehicles another shot on the road. Most of these wheels don't come with a running engine or with good looks. Time and again, my husband sees to it that no matter how long the vehicle is in his care, it leaves us a little better off.
I, on the other hand, can practically feel the bugs crawling up my back at the thought of sitting in those worn out seats. How can this thing possibly be worth anything to anyone? Why would you want to invest your time and energy into this obviously past it's prime rust bucket with a flat tire.
As perplexed as I was, it dawned on me that my husband doesn't see what I see. No, we most definitely do not see eye to eye. He must see beyond the discolored metal bug graveyard I see and see it for what it could be. Maybe he is seeing these:
Admittedly, I am practically incapable of visualizing anything. Seeing is believing, and when I can't see it, I have a hard time believing it. I can only see the time and money it would take to get The Artifact into the condition these two jeeps are in.
For the second time in less than a week, I realize that I am the downer of the duo!
What is my problem? I can only see the pitfalls of owning such a far cry from a restored vehicle. Why is it that I can't look at the pros to this or any situation for that matter? Why can't I see the good in things?
Now I just need to figure out how to transform my husband's rust goggles to apply to me. Wouldn't it be nice if he always saw the perfection I could be? I also need to figure out how to get a prescription for these goggles. I would love to have better eyesight, less the lasic surgery. Maybe I just need to change how it is I see rather than worry about how to see without my glasses.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
My Road to the BCS!
War Memorial Stadium was filled with sugar packet confetti and chants of "BCS" after the LSU win Thanksgiving weekend. How anyone could not feel the overwhelming pride of being a Razorback fan is unimaginable to me. As soon as I step foot into the Mears' home in Little Rock, I request tickets for the Sugar Bowl through the U of A.
Enter my husband. Doom and gloom. I had to break the news that he and I would be making a little trip down to New Orleans assuming we would not be overlooked in the BCS and tickets would fall into my lap. He, who did not attend the LSU game mind you, was quick to laugh it off that I just gave the U of A a whopping $10 for nothing.
First and foremost, the BCS did not deny my Hogs the coveted berth to the Sugar Bowl. Second and third, the U of A sent me a ticket rejection email, and my husband retracted his previous statement that he would make the trip with me. This girl was on a 24 hour roller coaster, and she felt sick!
Now, at one point in my life, I boasted that my husband and I were two peas in a pod. "We are mirror images of each other". Maybe Charlie should be called Bad Luck Chuck, cringe, or maybe somewhere along the way I just flat out broke The Mirror. How could he possibly not understand how important this milestone was for the football program and for me, the fan?
2 weeks of misery at the Mears' house ensued. I chickened out on multiple, behind his back, ebay bids. My co-workers where closing in on their own tickets and trying not to rub it into my wounds. Argument, after argument, after argument got me absolutely nowhere. "Why do you need to be there when you can watch it on tv?" "Why would you want to be herded around with all those people in a place you've never been?" Is he insane? It sounded like perfection! Then it hit me......If I am arguing THIS MUCH, I deserve tickets to argue about.
Well it turns out I wasn't alone. The U of A apparently also thought I deserved tickets to the Sugar Bowl. It took all of about 3 seconds to call the ticket center after they emailed me about releasing additional tickets. About 15 minutes later, I was grinning from ear to ear telling everyone about the tickets I just purchased. Everyone, except my husband, that is. Crap! Minor detail right? "Oh yeah, by the way, I do have tickets after all. Thanks so much for being so understanding." Uh, no.
So I decided to lie by omission. Never really a good idea. At least it was a week from Christmas. I thought I could wrap the tickets up "From Husband, To Wife". Then I could just make a big dramatic scene about how thankful i was for him getting me what I really wanted. Gameplan underway; tickets not in my mailbox. Yes, in my excitement, I made a fatal error, and I didn't have the tickets sent to anywhere but my house. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Fast track to the Tuesday before Christmas, still no tickets. Husband wants to know what I'm going to do about the game. I felt a sweat break out across my forehead as I was put on the spot. I cracked under the pressure, and I just threw away my plan. I told him I had lucked out, and he wasn't all that mad. I asked if he had intercepted the tickets, and he said he hadn't gotten them. I had just too suddenly stopped arguing about the game that it seemed fishy. He still had no desire to head to New Orleans with me. Stick in the mud.
Liar meets liar! Liar marries liar! Liar lies to liar! Christmas Eve. My family is at our house for the Bowman gift exchange. Presents dwindle, and finally I get to the last one. It is from my mom because it says it is from "Santa". She always put wrapped presents under the tree from "Santa" about 2 weeks early. "Mommy, why does Santa come to our house before Christmas?" "He is really busy Ashley. He is just making sure that he doesn't leave you out." I pull out a knife set. Typical. Not really something I asked for. I am too busy to notice that Charlie is filming this because I just saw 2 glorious Sugar Bowl tickets taped to the side of the knife set. What??? Oh crap. No wonder Charlie was so adamant that I didn't get tickets. No way. Surely not. I'm so confused.
So, my mom says the tickets aren't from her. Charlie, "Well I got you 2 tickets, and now you have 4 of them." NO WAY! As i stare him down, looking for the slightest hint of trickery, he looks kind of teary-eyed, serious. For a second, I think maybe he is telling the truth. Only for a second though. Then, i know better than that. He is lying through his teeth and doing a pretty excellent job at it too. I call his bluff.
He admits that on Monday, the day before I confessed, he did actually find 2 tickets in our mailbox. Luckily for me, I didn't get the bulk of his initial reaction like i thought i had. Come to think of it, he did seem unusually less mad than I had expected. I ask if this means he set aside his unwillingness to go, and he says we'll see. Then I ask my mom if she got me the knife set or not. Nope. Santa is not my mom???? How did I get tricked with my own trick?
Cut to Christmas with Charlie's family 2 days later to avoid the arguing in between these 2 celebrations. Charlie still doesn't want to go. Seriously? We are at Christmas dinner, at the table, with all his family, and my lovely mother in law asks the dreadful question. "So, who is going with you to the Sugar Bowl?" Not again. Not at Christmas dinner. I look at Charlie and reply, "I really don't know. My husband apparently doesn't want to spend time with his wife." Way to bring down the holiday Ashley.
In the Christmas spirit, and I'm sure to lighten the mood, Charlie's sister Amy decides she would like to go. Merry Christmas to me, but she will have to see if she can get off work considering it is a week away. After 2 suspenseful days, Amy can go! My husband is off the hook, and I'm going to see my Razorbacks play in the BCS!
Enter my husband. Doom and gloom. I had to break the news that he and I would be making a little trip down to New Orleans assuming we would not be overlooked in the BCS and tickets would fall into my lap. He, who did not attend the LSU game mind you, was quick to laugh it off that I just gave the U of A a whopping $10 for nothing.
First and foremost, the BCS did not deny my Hogs the coveted berth to the Sugar Bowl. Second and third, the U of A sent me a ticket rejection email, and my husband retracted his previous statement that he would make the trip with me. This girl was on a 24 hour roller coaster, and she felt sick!
Now, at one point in my life, I boasted that my husband and I were two peas in a pod. "We are mirror images of each other". Maybe Charlie should be called Bad Luck Chuck, cringe, or maybe somewhere along the way I just flat out broke The Mirror. How could he possibly not understand how important this milestone was for the football program and for me, the fan?
2 weeks of misery at the Mears' house ensued. I chickened out on multiple, behind his back, ebay bids. My co-workers where closing in on their own tickets and trying not to rub it into my wounds. Argument, after argument, after argument got me absolutely nowhere. "Why do you need to be there when you can watch it on tv?" "Why would you want to be herded around with all those people in a place you've never been?" Is he insane? It sounded like perfection! Then it hit me......If I am arguing THIS MUCH, I deserve tickets to argue about.
Well it turns out I wasn't alone. The U of A apparently also thought I deserved tickets to the Sugar Bowl. It took all of about 3 seconds to call the ticket center after they emailed me about releasing additional tickets. About 15 minutes later, I was grinning from ear to ear telling everyone about the tickets I just purchased. Everyone, except my husband, that is. Crap! Minor detail right? "Oh yeah, by the way, I do have tickets after all. Thanks so much for being so understanding." Uh, no.
So I decided to lie by omission. Never really a good idea. At least it was a week from Christmas. I thought I could wrap the tickets up "From Husband, To Wife". Then I could just make a big dramatic scene about how thankful i was for him getting me what I really wanted. Gameplan underway; tickets not in my mailbox. Yes, in my excitement, I made a fatal error, and I didn't have the tickets sent to anywhere but my house. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Fast track to the Tuesday before Christmas, still no tickets. Husband wants to know what I'm going to do about the game. I felt a sweat break out across my forehead as I was put on the spot. I cracked under the pressure, and I just threw away my plan. I told him I had lucked out, and he wasn't all that mad. I asked if he had intercepted the tickets, and he said he hadn't gotten them. I had just too suddenly stopped arguing about the game that it seemed fishy. He still had no desire to head to New Orleans with me. Stick in the mud.
Liar meets liar! Liar marries liar! Liar lies to liar! Christmas Eve. My family is at our house for the Bowman gift exchange. Presents dwindle, and finally I get to the last one. It is from my mom because it says it is from "Santa". She always put wrapped presents under the tree from "Santa" about 2 weeks early. "Mommy, why does Santa come to our house before Christmas?" "He is really busy Ashley. He is just making sure that he doesn't leave you out." I pull out a knife set. Typical. Not really something I asked for. I am too busy to notice that Charlie is filming this because I just saw 2 glorious Sugar Bowl tickets taped to the side of the knife set. What??? Oh crap. No wonder Charlie was so adamant that I didn't get tickets. No way. Surely not. I'm so confused.
So, my mom says the tickets aren't from her. Charlie, "Well I got you 2 tickets, and now you have 4 of them." NO WAY! As i stare him down, looking for the slightest hint of trickery, he looks kind of teary-eyed, serious. For a second, I think maybe he is telling the truth. Only for a second though. Then, i know better than that. He is lying through his teeth and doing a pretty excellent job at it too. I call his bluff.
He admits that on Monday, the day before I confessed, he did actually find 2 tickets in our mailbox. Luckily for me, I didn't get the bulk of his initial reaction like i thought i had. Come to think of it, he did seem unusually less mad than I had expected. I ask if this means he set aside his unwillingness to go, and he says we'll see. Then I ask my mom if she got me the knife set or not. Nope. Santa is not my mom???? How did I get tricked with my own trick?
Cut to Christmas with Charlie's family 2 days later to avoid the arguing in between these 2 celebrations. Charlie still doesn't want to go. Seriously? We are at Christmas dinner, at the table, with all his family, and my lovely mother in law asks the dreadful question. "So, who is going with you to the Sugar Bowl?" Not again. Not at Christmas dinner. I look at Charlie and reply, "I really don't know. My husband apparently doesn't want to spend time with his wife." Way to bring down the holiday Ashley.
In the Christmas spirit, and I'm sure to lighten the mood, Charlie's sister Amy decides she would like to go. Merry Christmas to me, but she will have to see if she can get off work considering it is a week away. After 2 suspenseful days, Amy can go! My husband is off the hook, and I'm going to see my Razorbacks play in the BCS!
Friday, December 31, 2010
Open Hearts Ball
Ok! Ok! Ok! I realize that New Year's resolutions don't tend to stick, but I guess the desire for it to magically be easy is just so tempting. Last year, I made a bet to use my elliptical every single day for crying out loud! I lasted a month and a half, and unfortunately for the elliptical, it has been relocated from inside to out on our deck so that the site of it doesn't stir up any lost desire for healthiness. Basically, my husband screwed up by not actually selling the thing on craigslist the first day I didn't use it per the terms of the bet.
This go around, I decided that maybe, just maybe, I should set aside a competition and actually do something I want to do. I have been thinking about blogging for a while, and I have always come back to the minor little itsy bitsy detail that I am completely worthless at opening up to anyone......wait for it........unless I already know and love you. Then and only then will I bombard you with every thought that crosses my mind. Yes friends, it is ok to giggle here because you know it's the truth!
I'm thinking that blogging might potentially be a good practice round before throwing myself in the ring to actually open up to real people in person. Typically I have my guard up, and before I know it, I haven't said a word so that there isn't the slightest insight into how to take me down. It is just too bad that this particular strategy seems to leave a lot to be desired.
So, please be in my corner this year as I embark on this fight to speak my mind with an open heart.
This go around, I decided that maybe, just maybe, I should set aside a competition and actually do something I want to do. I have been thinking about blogging for a while, and I have always come back to the minor little itsy bitsy detail that I am completely worthless at opening up to anyone......wait for it........unless I already know and love you. Then and only then will I bombard you with every thought that crosses my mind. Yes friends, it is ok to giggle here because you know it's the truth!
I'm thinking that blogging might potentially be a good practice round before throwing myself in the ring to actually open up to real people in person. Typically I have my guard up, and before I know it, I haven't said a word so that there isn't the slightest insight into how to take me down. It is just too bad that this particular strategy seems to leave a lot to be desired.
So, please be in my corner this year as I embark on this fight to speak my mind with an open heart.
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