...or I'm brilliant!

This pic seemed to get a lot of attention on facebook and instagram, so I figured why not put it on the blog for the remaining ZERO of you who haven't already seen it?  Actually Allison suggested I post it on the blog.

So maybe I'm an airhead, but I'm also very, very smart.  Ya see, Matt had Henry out of the house, and I knew I had limited time to sneak in a quick "at home" workout (courtesy of Ashley).  Of course it also happened to be time for Sam to eat, so... duct tape it is.

so I'm an airhead...

Haha. Guys. Thank you so much for the pity comments.  No really, I love when some of you come out of the woodwork like that.  It's amazing.

On that note, I will resume posting about normal things like how I am an airhead.  Particularly in that last post, when I made Matt read it (like I do with all my posts since I tend to think I am hilarious).  So he was reading my post, and he quoted it, "Now you've really lost me?"  I said, "Yeah."  He said, "I think you mean, 'Now I've really lost you.'" Dang it.  I am almost as smart as I am funny.

And on that note, I'd like to tell you that my friend told me that she heard or read an article that your IQ drops after having children.  She felt offended by it.  I felt justified.

And on THAT note, I'd like to tell you that the same friend also told me that pregnancy happens to be really hard on your TEETH.  So, feeling like now I have an excuse for my bad teeth, I begin this convo with Matt.

"Hey, Ashley told me pregnancy is really hard on your teeth."
"Really?" (In sincere tone.)
"Yep."
(Without hesitation.) "So is candy." (Bada boom!)

Dang it.

And on that note, we are trying to teach Henry that he's not allowed to say "Dang it."

Happy Wednesday, folks.

I am my husband..

It's humiliating for me to admit this, but after searching high and low (we are talking, on top of the fridge, in the trash can, in the drain of the sink, in the couch cushions, on my bed, on Henry's bed and everywhere in between), I found my mouth guard... and this time it wasn't anywhere cool like inside the VHS... nope, this time it was just laying out on my bedroom floor in plain view.  So yes, I have become my husband and no, I am not okay with it.

Next.  I should tell you that my dentist appointment was about as terrible as I could have planned yesterday, and I think it's because my dentist's office is really good a guilt trips, but anyway... This snapshot of my texting with Matt afterward sums it up nicely...

 

I know you can't see it very well, but that picture is a bulk package of toothpaste and floss I bought at Costco right after my appointment... I had to go there to get diapers - bad timing.  And yes, we have toothpaste and floss at home, but somehow this purchase helped me feel like I was doing something for the health of my mouth.  Rational mindset.  If I buy nice workout clothes maybe I will want to go to the gym.  If I buy crafts, maybe I will want to be crafty.  Thankfully ONE of us is rational... maybe the other one of us will regain her ability to not lose things and together we can be a fully functional adult?

Happy Friday.

Thankful: Day 23 [Umm.]

I had plans to write this post earlier on in the day.  I was going to say I was thankful that I was getting my hair highlighted today.  A sneak peak into my vanity - I had a small, secret fear that the baby would decide to come before I had a chance to get my hair highlighted and the roots were looking pretty bad.  Not that anyone cares.

Fast forward to now, and I would actually be much happier if I could have the baby with the hair I had before 4:30 PM today... roots and all.

Long story short - my normal girl (of like five years) got moved to another salon, so instead of going to her - which I should have done - I figured she left my formula in the computer and just went to the chick they were sending all of her old clients to.  (I know that sentence isn't right, and I don't care.)  Except my girl didn't leave my formula in the computer, and apparently "highlights" to me is equivalent to this new chick's "BANANA BLONDE." Ugh.

I'm not gonna lie, if I let myself, I could still tear up about it right now.  I've actually been crying an embarrassing amount tonight.  Okay, I still am.

Let me qualify all this by saying that I know my hair does not look THAT bad, and that probably no one will notice or care.  However, I do notice and care, and to be honest, I don't really mind if you like my hair or not - I want to like it.  So the problem is really with me and my attitude... I get that.  I take that back, if I am being honest, I do care if you like my hair, but if I don't like it, I won't believe that you like it, even if you say that you do... so it doesn't really end up mattering if you like it or not. Got that? Good.

So anyway, when you are really pregnant- weighing way more than you feel comfortable weighing and your five year old nephew is calling you fat because he doesn't know any better... and people are commenting about how you are breathing too heavy... and other people are commenting about how BIG your certain unmentionable body parts are (which you hate and already feel self-conscious about), you want to do SOMETHING to feel attractive. Or at least I do.  Call me immature or vain or whatever- I realize my issues - just being honest here. (Funny in light of yesterday's post, but whatever.)

So yeah, when I walk in the salon as a brunette with blonde highlights, tell the lady that I want "the exact same as last time," and leave looking like pregnant Barbie, I'm probably not going to handle it so well.

You might be wondering what this has to do with being thankful.  And well, I am trying to figure it out too.  So, off the top of my head, even though I am crying, even though my husband has no idea how in the world this situation could possibly justify so much drama, and even though I am angry that this happened and that I might possibly have to face the girl again because I'm not sure I can live with my new hair color.... I will find things to be thankful about even though I'm not quite passed the "pissed off" stage... (Forgive me for being so blunt.)

1. Thankful that no one cares about my hair more than me.
2.  Thankful that situations like this actually do unveil sins in my heart - and things that matter far, far too much for me.  It's not really fun, but at least when God shows me that dirt, I have hope that he will also free me from it.
3.  Thankful that in two or three weeks I won't be breathing too hard, or being called fat by five year olds.  Wish I could say that the unmentionable body parts would be getting smaller, too, but we all know that's not what happens...
4. Thankful that I have a blog - writing about this has been therapeutic.  I am definitely over-sharing.  Oh well.  I'll regret it when some random person at my ten year HS reunion next year comes up to me and tells me that they read my blog.  For now I'll just be thankful that writing this post has given me some temporary sanity.
5.  Thankful for Henry.  I managed to stop crying enough to read him some books, say prayers and put him to bed.  He is a great distraction from myself.

I think that's good enough.  I also would like to add that mirrors are the devil.  With that, I am going to go apologize to my husband for being a psycho.  Good night!

Thankful: Day 2 [Halloween Candy]

Today I am thankful for HALLOWEEN CANDY!  I have a major sweet tooth. Everyone who knows me knows that.

On Mon night, we walked to a block party down the street because we had gotten an invitation on our door, and since we've been trying to meet some of our neighbors it seemed like a good idea.  The plan was to trick-or-treat after mingling for a while, but we ended up having such a good time that we never ended up trick-or-treating. AND (bonus) we met some neighbors who have a little boy just about one month older than Henry.

So, before it was time to leave, I realized that I was probably not going to be stealing a lot of trick-or-treat candy from Henry, which is the whole reason I wanted him to go anyway.

You can decide if this was appropriate or not - probably not - but right before we left the party, I took about two handfuls of candy from the bowl that the hosts (our new, previously mentioned friends w/ little boy) had out in their yard for the kids. And, you should remember that I have man hands- I can take a lot in a handful.

So maybe instead of being thankful for the Halloween candy, I should be thankful for my man hands. :) Or maybe I should be thankful for some new friends?  Eh, I'll keep it simple and stick with Halloween candy.

True Story: Yesterday, in an attempt to save myself from myself, I knotted up all of the leftover Halloween candy that we didn't pass out in a plastic grocery sack, and placed it at the very top of the pantry, hoping to forget about it. Then, 20 minutes later, I returned to the bag, tore it open, and continued eating candy.

Another true story: I had been saving a mini-pack of grape Nerds to eat after dinner last night.  When I finished dinner and went to look for them they were gone.  MY HUSBAND - the guy who NEVER eats candy or sweets - had snatched them!  I may or may not have called him a bad word... joking of course. Sort of.

reasons why Matt is awesome

(In no particular order.)

1.  HE COMPLETED THE 100 PUSH UP CHALLENGE!  And let me say it was inspirational to watch.  I didn't watch him actually do the 100 push ups, but I watched several of his workouts.  And the most awesome thing about this is that now if we ask Henry to do a push up, he will put both hand on the ground and start bobbing his head up and down = amazing.

2.  HE NOW HAS AN iPHONE and an iPAD.  Yes, this is work related.  Seriously, if anyone in this family was going to go buy him or herself an iphone it would be me.  Matt, if it weren't for work, would still have THIS phone.  The ipad was a (very generous) gift that Matt got as "thank you" for a real estate transaction.

3.  HE'S GAINED FIVE POUNDS in the last TWO MONTHS!!!  Why is this awesome?  Well, you see, after Henry was born, the eight permanent pounds that I put on must have come straight from Matt... because Matt LOST about 8-10 lbs after H came into the world.  My goal in life (okay that's an overstatement) is to WIDEN the gap between our weights.  Matt seemed to be trying to narrow it.  Anyway, I am more than positive that the weight is ALL muscle.  And also, it decreases the likelihood that I will pass Matt in the weight department by the end of my pregnancy.

Should I list some sentimental reasons too?  YES!

1.  He is the most helpful husband on the planet.  Seriously, and if I were my own husband, I might not help me a lot because I am a control freak and I unknowingly and subconsciously criticize him. So instead of saying, "Thanks for running the dishwasher babe."  I say, "Why didn't you try to fit that bowl in there?"  And instead of saying, "Thanks for putting the groceries away babe!"  I say, "You have really interesting ideas about where the groceries go, don't you?"  And instead of saying, "Thanks for changing Henry's dirty diaper, babe!"  I say, "Why don't you use the diaper cream that smells better?"  So, here it is all public for everyone to see... THANKS FOR ALL YOU DO, MATTY!!!

2.  He is LOVING and he works hard to know me and figure me out.  Obviously I don't make sense 95% of the time... and to a man, I don't make sense probably 99% of the time.  (I mean, I just wrote in my last post that I wish I was showing, but like 3 posts earlier, I said that I didn't want to be showing.  Confusing is an understatment.)  Also, I say I want to be healthy and eat less sugar, and then I come home from the store with all the ingredients for smores.  So, I'm thankful that Matt doesn't just roll his eyes and count me to be a crazy (okay sometimes he does), but most of the time, he loves me through it all. And he tries his darndest to get to the bottom of... of me.

3.  I want to be like him!  My man sets a high bar for integrity, hard work, discipline, service, self-control, love, committment, and so many other things... He is so respectable.  I want to be like him.

why Matt thinks I'm crazy

So you know how I've been working out like a freak show?

The other day I said to Matt, "Babe, I'm getting nervous.  I don't feel like my stomach is getting any bigger.  I wish that it was getting bigger, then I would know the baby was okay."  (Mind you, this comment was like 2 days after I went to the doctor and heard the heartbeat - never mind that it took intern nurse like 999 hours to find the heartbeat.)

He laughed and rolled his eyes.  "You are unbelievable."

Clearly, we don't have to go any further here. Obviously it doesn't make sense that I want my stomach to be huge and everything else on my body to be small.  Well that does make sense, but it wasn't all making sense to Matt when I was just spouting it out.

Anyway, so I was having these strange dumb dumb feelings like my stomach wasn't getting bigger, then therefore the child must not be growing, therefore something must be wrong.  So......

I prayed that God would help me feel the baby moving.  Cause up to that point I thought I might have felt it move but I wasn't really sure.  It's a big difference the movement at 40 weeks and the movement at 17 weeks.  And, surprise!  HE DID!  Last night on the 4th of July, I felt a lot of movement. Yay!

Also...  Just thought I'd share another funny interaction Matt and I had last night.  (This actually happens a lot.)

Leah: Laugh out loud to herself.
Matt:  What are you laughing at?
Leah: Nothing - I'm just hilarious.  Continue laughing.

Okay so probably not funny to you, but I think it's hilarious. Obviously.  I know Matt thinks it's super-annoying because my dad does it all the time (laughs at his own jokes, thinks he is funnier than everyone else thinks he is), and we (kids) all usually just roll our eyes at him (lovingly).  Apparently that trait runs in the family.

And if you really want to know, I was laughing at some comments I had written on Matt's Facebook wall (my own jokes).

what did they DO before home pregnancy tests?

After I took my first positive pregnancy test with Henry I literally followed the one test with about six more because I didn't feel pregnant.  This time, after I had my first positive pregnancy test, I took ZERO more.  However, no one could count how many NEGATIVE pregnancy tests I took before I got the positive one (with baby number 2).  Without question, it was an embarrassing number of tests. 

Ya see, our "birth control" method after Henry came into the world was breastfeeding... which is not technically 100% effective, especially after they start solid foods at around 6 months.  So, there always seemed to be the possibility that I could be pregnant.  But, surprisingly, the natural/lactation method seemed to be PRETTY effective for me.  (Or maybe that's not so surprising, seeing as I felt like I could have nourished an army of babies.)  TMI?  Maybe...

Anyway, no telling how many times Matt heard, "I think I might be pregnant" when I was most definitely not even possibly pregnant.  So, it's no wonder that when I really thought I was pregnant, he didn't believe me.  Somehow in that last cycle, I found in myself the self-control to wait till about 15 DPO (days past ovulation) to take a test, which is kind of a big deal since I got a positive pregnancy test with Henry at 10 DPO.

Anyway, I'm pretty sure I took the test in the bathroom at Starbucks on a Saturday morning.  (Of course.) I took a picture w/ my smart phone, sent it to Matt, and that was the end of him not believing that I was in fact, preggo.

By the way, I am hoping, after writing this post, that about 99.99% of my readers are female.

mystery diagnosis...

1. After Henry was born, the skin on my face rebelled against me in the form of (GROSS) acne.  Because of the location (surrounding my chin), the dermatologist agreed with my own personal assessment that it must be hormonal.  Aka out of my control.  Except that I still blamed my poor diet and lack of exercise- I have somehow decided that those are the culprits for all my problems, which is silly because my diet and "lack of exercise" is really not THAT bad.  I dare say it could be worse.  Anyway, I still payed a pretty penny for topical medication.

Well, well, well.  Let me just say that somehow God (it must have been Him) brought it to my attention that ever since Henry has been born, I have hardly ever had two free hands.  And, since Henry doesn't carry on a conversation like I sometimes crave, I am often calling whoever will carry on a conversation with me on my trusty smart-phone.  And, since I am on the phone more, but I have only one free hand and sometimes no free hands, I am often keeping the phone up against my ear with my cheek and my shoulder.  SOOOOO.  The bacteria and dirt on my phone was CONSTANTLY up against my chin and cheek = NO WONDER MY SKIN WAS BREAKING OUT!

It has now been over a month since I went out and very nerd-ily bought a nerdy, nerdy bluetooth, which I am somewhat ashamed to wear in public...  but I wear it because as silly as it looks, I'll take it every day over acne.  And guess what!??!?!  My skin has hardly broken out at all!

2.  As you might remember, I had terrible back pain when I was pregnant.  Of course, I thought it was because I was pregnant.  (My back and shoulders were unusually tense for a pregnant woman - which was confirmed by several massage therapists. :) ) As you might also remember, shortly after giving birth, I went to the gym and did the same workout in the same shoes that I had worn my entire pregnancy, and after not having back pain for 12 weeks or more, I had that same ol' back pain again.  I mistakenly concluded that my shoes were to blame.

But last week, I hopped on that same ol' trusty elliptical machine in my new running shoes, which are not really new at all because I have worn the same exact style for about 6 years now, and which also have not given me any trouble when I run or walk... and... the back pain returned!  IT WAS THE ELLIPTICAL!!!  Darn machine!

I guess I'll stick to running and spinning.

you're so vain

I haven't had a tan since the summer of 2007.  After that I decided that wrinkles and skin cancer really aren't my thing, and I "vowed" to always wear plenty of sunscreen and never get sunburned again.  Even on a beach trip in 2009, I stayed as white as I possibly could.

Fast forward to this year, when I went walking with one of my friends - ahem, you know who you are - and she started laughing at me because my legs were so white.  So since then, I've been trying to wear shorts and get outside more. 

But today my vanity got the best of me, and I went to the pool to lay out.  I only put sunscreen on my face, neck, chest and hands (the places where the sun can really do/has already done some aging damage).


Now I am very pink.  Fortunately my shoulders were somehow been spared.  And fortunately it's not as bad as the some of the sunburns I got in my younger, dumber years that forced me to cry myself to sleep at night. 

Once every four years is an improvement though.  At least I have that.  My dermatologist would not be proud.

Now or Never

That's my new motto.  Or it was this morning at 5:30 AM when I thought it would be a good idea to go to spin class with all the crazy spinsters.  But while I was peddling on that bike after no sleep and after not having set foot in a spin class since summer of '09, the song "Right Here, Right Now" by Jesus Jones came into my head.  (Yes, I had to look up the artist. Yes, I only know two lines in the whole song.)  And I began to think deep thoughts about how, really, all we have is right now, the present moment.  That's something I need to remember more often because, you see... I tend to be a procrastinator.  LATER is like my favorite word.

Later I will...
get back in cardiovascular shape
clean up dinner
make friends with my neighbors
try to resolve my problems
finish my 10000 scrapbooks
be a part of solving the world's problems
give more energy to seeking the Lord
put forth effort in important relationships
share the gospel with people that don't know God
eat healthy
save more money
give more money

But right now, let me eat cookies, watch Seinfeld, leave the house a mess, go straight into my garage so I don't have to talk to my neighbors... You get the idea.

But right now is all I have.  God gives us the joy of His presence one moment at a time.  He gives us help and grace in the present moment to do the things that He has created us to do in that moment.  Right now is all the time that I am given.  Tomorrow does not yet exist and may never come.  So really, it is now or never.  Don't laugh... it's true.

Thanks for letting me share my spin-class-induced thoughts.

can't eat, can't sleep...

Lest you begin to think I am depressed or something, I'll let you know that one of those statements is totally false.  I can always eat.  So, even if I was depressed, that statement would not be true.

In fact, I am trying to think if there has ever been a single time in my life when I did not feel like eating... perhaps... and that's a BIG perhaps, in the middle of a violent stomach virus, or one time when I had the flu.  That's really it.

Actually, I can think of maybe two or three instances where I was too excited to eat... like at the beginning of my relationship with Matt and at some best friends' weddings.  But not my own wedding - no way.  All day long everyone was telling me how important it was for me to eat.  I guess they were all afraid I would pass out or something.  So no worries.  I ate plenty on my wedding day.

Did I ever tell you guys that my sister and I went to Starbucks on the way to the church on my wedding day?  (I know what you're thinking. "Of course you did.")  Unfortunately, I wasn't in my dress yet, but I definitely had my veil on.  Awesome = yes.  That was back when I still ordered Mocha Fraps.  Now I just get plain, old, boring but highly caffeinated coffee.

I don't know if this is obvious, but I am just rambling tonight.

Another time you'd think that you might be too excited to eat is right after you have a child, but not me.  I think the first thing I did was order hospital food after Henry was born.  And then the next morning I had two breakfasts and a VENTI Starbucks coffee.  Hospital food is actually really good.  Yes, I had caffeine when I was nursing... Henry would have had withdrawals if I didn't.  Okay I'm totally jk.

What time is it?  I am exhausted and not making sense... so back to trying to fall asleep it is.  My poor baby has a cough - also not making it easy to fall asleep.  Look at that sweet, chubby face.

 

Nighty night!!

giving thanks

So, I have started a new habit.  Being thankful... I have started to say out loud the things that I am thankful for.  Or I write them down...  So, even when I don't FEEL thankful, I am practicing the discipline of giving thanks.

Here's some reasons why... (in relation to "material things.")

1- I've noticed there's a tendency of mine and of people in the church (maybe just my church, who knows) to feel guilty about their stuff, their blessings.  Almost like it's bad to have stuff.  So we give things away and sell things because we feel like we are spoiled or something.  (I'm all for radical generosity.)  The problem is that I don't think God wants us to give out of guilt... or walk around feeling spoiled and bad about the fact that we own a car and a house...  Plus, what does our sacrifice of stuff even mean if we are only sacrificing so that we don't have to feel bad about being blessed?  If we are thankful, our giving is much more enjoyable and meaningful.  So, instead of feeling like I don't deserve anything I have... or feeling like I "should" just (legalistically) give it ALL away... I'm starting with the "sacrifice of thanksgiving." (That's quoted bc it's somewhere in the Psalms.)  I think God will take it from there.

2-  Next.  The other tendency of mine (yes, at the very same time as #1) is to wish that I had better stuff, ie a bigger house, a different car, my pre-mom body.  (If you want to use an ugly word, it's "coveting.") But of course because of what I previously mentioned up in #1 I wouldn't necessarily feel the freedom to just go chase after that stuff... get what I mean?  Plus, I am commanded to be content.  So, my solution when I start to think about how convenient a minivan would be and how convenient it would be if we lived in a different neighborhood, I stop dead in my tracks and start finding things about my current car and current house to be thankful for.  I say thanks to God, in faith, believing that he will give me a thankful heart as I continue to choose to be thankful.

So, the end result of all of this in my life right now feels like FREEDOM.  The freedom to enjoy the things that God has blessed me with, the freedom to give them away in a second for the sake of the gospel, the freedom to ask God for more while being content with what I have.


Of course, my stuff is the least important to me, and the things I am most thankful for cannot be bought or sold.  But this is just one aspect of thanksgiving that is really impacting my life right now.

New Post, Long Overdue!

Since we last touched base, I have started two different posts on two entirely different topics and haven't finished either of them! I suppose it is highly unlikely I finish this post either.

Did you know that I like to make fun of "inspirational" quotes?

If you've been around awhile, you might have figured as much.

I do not make fun of quotes which I consider to be truly inspirational, but only those which I consider cheesy and not inspirational and/or too cheesy to be inspirational. Therefore it is totally arbitrary. Also, at one point in my life (early high school), I do remember being obsessed with cheesy "inspirational" quotes, so something changed in me, and I am not necessarily sure if I am better or worse for it- just different.

My sister and I have a game where when we come across a "too-cheesy-to-be-inspirational" quote, we post the quote on the other's Facebook wall.

Last time I did this, one of my good friends commented on the post, "Leah, is that you?" Clearly, it is out of character.

So, now you know. I am too cool to be cheesy. Or I think I am too cool. One or the other.

Anyway, I thought I'd give you a few examples (five, to be exact) of my favorite "too-cheesy-to-be-inspirational" quotes. Please don't be offended if you love these quotes or identify with them. I was once a cheeseball, too. Without further ado...

1. "Work like you don't need the money. Love like you've never been hurt. Dance like nobody's watching."
2. "Life is not measured by the number of breaths you take, but by the number of moments that take your breath away."
3. "Don't frown! You never know who's falling in love with your smile!"
4. "Reach for the moon. If you miss, you'll stand among the stars."
5. "To the world you might be just one person, but to one person, you just might be the world."

And my work here is done. Please feel free to share your favorite inspirational or cheesy, non-inspirational quotes with me.

someone actually asked me if I was a barista

Matt and I went to a wedding on SUNDAY night (and yes, we double checked the date this time), and you can imagine my excitement when they had a gazillion desserts and a coffee bar with a barista serving up whatever java concoction fit your fancy.

While getting very specific about how I wanted my caramel macchiato, the barista asked me if I happened to be a barista. Of course I was elated - to appear to have such knowledge!

BTW, missed you bloggy friends the past week! I've been so bad about both reading and writing blogs! Gonna work hard to catch up on that! FORGIVENESS PLEASE! I live on forgiveness.

does the car doctor know I have road rage?

Who would have thought that getting an oil change could produce in me the same sort of anxiety I get when I visit the dentist?

You might recall that pretty much every time I have visited the dentist since I was about 17 he has asked me if I am wearing the mouth guard that keeps me from grinding my teeth.

And every time he asks, I think, "Dang it, he knows!" Something about the fact that he's the expert makes me feel like he somehow knows exactly how many nights I didn't floss or that in fact, I hardly ever wear my mouth guard or what have you.

Well, today I had to get an oil change, and upon checking out, the car technician dude quickly briefed me on the condition of my car...

I basically heard, "Blah blah blah blah blah... and oh, by the way, your front brake pads are in really good shape, but your rear brake pads look to be only about 20 percent effective, and you will need new ones the next time you come in here." And then...

He immediately looked at me with this face like, "Do you have an explanation for this you crazy woman road rage driver?" I'm telling you, I could FEEL it!

Avoiding unnecessary condemnation, I just kept looking straight at the piece of paper in his hand and said, "Okay." (Sort of in a "not my fault" slash "I'm perfectly innocent" tone of voice.)

I guess if any of you know anything about cars, you can correct me if I am wrong about whether or not the wearing out of my rear brake pads has anything to do with aggressive driving, but by the way that dude was looking at me...

I'm telling you, he knows.

And, by the way, you're welcome... for spelling out the word "slash."

WEDNESDAY LOVE!

the walls hate me

Jonathan Edwards in his resolutions wrote that he was resolved, "never to suffer the least motions of anger towards irrational beings."

I could certainly learn a thing or two from Jonathan Edwards. And the walls, doors, and furniture in my house would appreciate it if I did.

Let me explain.

I have a tendency to react very strongly if I stub my toe, or run into a wall, or bump my elbow/any other limb on a piece of furniture. And by "very strongly," I mean that I may or may not cry out with rage, pump my fist, and beat down the inanimate object responsible for causing such pain in my life.

It happens all the time. There is a very ill-placed ledge thing in our bathroom that eats my lunch almost everyday, and trust me, it has received it's fair share of beatings. (Read: It's a wonder that I haven't broken my hand.)

The irrational part of me is screaming inside and sometimes aloud, "IS THERE NO JUSTICE?!" As if the furniture and walls in my house are purposely getting in my way and inflicting pain on me.

Matt has witnessed these reactions on a number of occasions. Usually his eyes get very wide, he starts to smile (mockingly, since he can see how ridiculous I am acting), and he responds in disbelief, "Oh my gosh." He finds it very fascinating that I could get so angry at something that doesn't have a will.

Then I say, "What?" as if he has no good reason for looking at me like I am a lunatic, and I proceed to justify myself, knowing that there is not a rational excuse in the world for that sort of behavior, "THAT REALLY HURT!"

Then I repent. It will get better. I'll keep you updated.

what makes one an adult?

If you read my post about Matt's brother, Meyer, you might remember that I wrote this:

"It took me marrying Matt to realize that there really are people in the world who don't enjoy being just a little rebellious. Matt is one of them. But Meyer is probably a little more like me; he has a little bit of a rebellious side (or as my mom likes to call it, an 'edge.')"

This edgy rebellion of mine came out twice on good Friday.

First situation was at Chuy's with Matt's family. Let's just leave out the details and say that Matt's 16 year old brother, Mitchell, made a sarcastic remark in response to a question posed by his mother. While I immediately busted out in laughter, Matt and his mom both scolded Mitchell and told him that his joke was "not funny at all." I then ducked my head and tried to hide the fact that I was laughing. Oops.

The second situation happened about an hour later when we were attending the Good Friday service at a Lutheran church with Matt's family. Matt's youngest brothers were not thrilled about having to go to the service, so we were trying a little bit harder to be optimistic and set a good example. That pretty much went down the pipe about two minutes into the service. You see, the script for the service was written in the 1800s, and it consisted of liturgy followed by very dramatic transitions into opera style music. At every transition, I started to snicker, and I eventually had to pull out my Bible and ignore the singing just so that I wouldn't be a bad influence on Matt's brothers. I'm pretty sure Matt "ssshhhed" me about five times before we left... but I caught him holding back laughter.

Anyway, Matt became an adult when he was 11, and we're still not sure about me.

leah goes to the dentist (continued)

Note: Read part 1 first. And do I really need to tell you that? You are smart enough to know.

So...I've lived with an aversion to "the dentist" since I got my first cavity, probably while I still had my baby teeth. Lord knows the dentists have never had an aversion to me; when I go to visit, it's like they are getting their semiannual bonus. They LOVE me at the dentist.

This relationship sort of explains the last 2 months of my life in which they constantly pursued me and I just ran away. You see, I had my semi-annual cleaning scheduled in February at the same dentist I've been going to since 8th grade. I really didn't feel like going to the dentist in February, so I canceled my appointment.

I kid you not that I have been "missing" an average of 2-3 phone calls a week since February. And then the unthinkable: I ran into my dental hygienist at H-E-B on Monday. On Tuesday, I missed another call. So, I took the little hint from God, and finally called yesterday to make a cleaning and x-ray appointment for today.

When I got there this morning, my hygienist told me that when she saw me on the schedule, she and the dental assistant who had been calling had a minor battle over who should get the credit for the fact that I finally booked my appointment. It sort of makes me wonder if the dentist has some sort of deal with them - like if they can get people with "problem teeth" to come in, they get commission or something.

It really wouldn't be a bad idea because like I said before, when I go to the dentist, it's not a matter of whether or not something will be wrong with my mouth, but about what is going to be wrong with it this time, and how much it is going to cost.

Today, while my hygiene report was good, they still found cavities problems. Usually these "problems" lead the dentist to ask me (EVERY single time I see him) if I am still wearing this splint that I got in 10th grade to protect my teeth from grinding while I sleep. Until this time, I have always answered, "Yes, but I think I take it out subconsciously in my sleep." But this time I told the truth... almost all of it.

I was never good about wearing that thing, but over the years I have had phases of compliance. Anyway, two years ago after I broke one of my fillings from grinding so much, I decided that I was going to start using it regularly... except first, it needed to be cleaned.

So I, being the genius that I am, cannot be satisfied just cleaning it with the typical sanitizer. Instead I decide that I need to put it in boiling water to clean it. Um, it's made of hard plastic. Der. So, naturally, it shrunk, and I said goodbye to the expensive splint that was fitted perfectly for my tiny little teeth. I tried to go to Walgreen's and get the kind that you form to your teeth by yourself, but I found it's effectiveness lacking.

So when the dentist saw signs of rather intense teeth grinding, he was faithful to ask, "Do you still wear your splint every night?"

"Um, no." (Leave it at that. Does he really need to know that I'm a total idiot?)

"No?"

"It's gone."

"The dog ate it, huh?"

"Yep."

Then I got a lecture, and they actually think it's MORE urgent for me to get a splint than it is for me to get my cavities filled other problems fixed, if that tells you anything. I'm afraid that they are afraid that I am going to lose my teeth, and to be honest, I think Matt is right there with them; he "jokes" that all of my teeth will be gone by the time I am 35.

So, long story short, I received a lovely piece of paper with the suggested treatments and the cost of the treatments and was told that the teeth grinding issue was urgent. Let's just say that paying for my teeth won't be an issue, but there wasn't exactly an allowance in the newly revised budget for my million-dollar mouth. Okay, okay, it's not millions.

Before we parted, the dentist told me that he would rather me put him out of business with my perfect teeth than have to keep getting expensive treatments for the rest of my life. And just when I was starting to feel good about contributing to his welfare...

Stay tuned for information about how you can donate to the cause of my million-dollar mouth.

And I hope that you know that last sentence was a joke, but just in case... that was a joke. Happy Thursday!

leah goes to the dentist (Part 1)

Note: This post was way too long, so I had to break it up.

I've been a little short on blog material this week, which has actually been a nice chance for me to focus more on Easter and the mystery of the cross of Jesus Christ, my Savior, and the Savior of the World. I have loved that.

But then, I went to the dentist, and I realized that I have been concealing a huge "gibbizarresque" part of my life since the start of this blog: my relationship with the dentist.

When I go to the dentist, it's not a matter of whether or not something will be wrong with my mouth, but about what is going to be wrong with it this time.

I used to be ashamed of this reality because I didn't do what I was supposed to as far as dental hygiene goes. And on top of that, I don't suck jolly ranchers, I chew them, and I used to chain-chew an unbelievable amount of bubble gum. So less than excellent hygiene plus a diet consisting of about 50% sugar doesn't so much help someone like me. Oh, and do not let me forget to mention that my top and bottom teeth fit together like a puzzle because I grind them so much.

But I have stopped feeling ashamed at the dentist for several reasons. First of all, my brother's hygiene wasn't much better than mine growing up, and he has maybe only had one cavity ever. Second of all, Matt's brother, Mitchell, eats far more candy than I do, and he also does not have a cavity problem. And lastly, I have showed very strong improvement in both hygiene and sugar consumption in my adult years, and the problems haven't gone away. All of the evidence leads me to conclude that this is a genetic problem. I guess only God knows that, but I am passing off the blame until all is revealed.

I guess there is one thing that still makes me feel a little ashamed, and that's the fact that Matt has PERFECT teeth and PERFECT hygiene, not to mention the fact that he doesn't eat much sugar and he doesn't grind his teeth. And would any of you expect anything less than perfection from Matt?

But to say that he doesn't understand my dental problems is a ridiculous understatement. I know that many of you out there are like Matt in this respect, and I'd like to suggest that you take a good look inside and consider whether or not you've been self-righteous when it comes to your perfect little teeth? Now I am getting off topic, and this is getting long, so let me get on with the story... continued here.