Jibblies!

So, Ben is officially done with this house...

Over the past 3 years and a little, we've had various critters thrust their company upon us: Ants, FLYING ants, many types of spiders (including a furry black kind with a red bottom that JUMPS!!), moths, flies, wasps!!, and who knows what all else.
Outside the confines of our walls, there are many other creatures cute and not so cute that populate the neighborhood but do not come in. Among those that typically do not enter our house is the cockroach. *Shiver!*

Okay... even looking at the picture gives me the jibblies!

Over the last three years, I have found perhaps 3 dead cockroaches in our house, or at least the evidence of them since they were pretty well done in by one or all of the cats. They do, however, like to hang out on the sidewalks after dark, so if you are watching closely after your eyes adjust, you'd see a good dozen or so at any give time. *Jibblies!*

Ben had me go out at look at something in the shed a couple of nights ago and it's a good thing he led the way since he flushed out all the lurking cockroaches and set them running to the weeds. A tougher woman would have ignored them... a jumpier woman would have screamed... I got the JIBBLIES...

Why do I mention this? Ben was getting Audrey ready for bed tonight while I was attending to Hank. All of the sudden, I hear a loud exclamation and Ben telling Audrey to "Go see Mama!" At my query, Ben, voice dripping with stress, only said, "I'm dealing with something right now!"

When he finally came out, it took him a while to spit out what happened. He kept holding his fingers apart about two inches with a strained look on his face. Finally, he explained that he practically ripped apart Audrey's room trying to catch the two inch cockroach that had been finding Audrey's pillow cozy.... Eeghhhh!

That's just SICK!

I have visions of Audrey innocently sleeping in her bed with a cockroach on her face... JIBBLIES!!!!!

Good thing we're leaving this week.

By way of updates

I'm completely and utterly exhausted. On top of that, I feel guilty because my daughter didn't get to celebrate her 2nd birthday yesterday. I know she doesn't know the difference yet, but I do and that's the point.

Tuesday afternoon and evening I started having contractions regularly (about 3 to 4 minutes apart). We contacted some friends and decided to wait to see if they would settle down. They lasted about an hour and a half and then let up. I had my weekly appointment on Wednesday (is it really only Thursday today??) and was told by the doctor that if I had more contractions like that to just go in to the L&D Triage and see if I could have a baby.
Wednesday afternoon the contractions started up again and were about 2 to 3 minutes apart. We made a call to the doctors office to see how long they wanted us to track them before going in. While waiting for them to call back, we settled Audrey at her little friend Theo's house. When the doctors office finally called back, we'd been tracking the contractions for about an hour and a half. They told us to just come on in.

So, I was thinking to myself: Okay, this is it.

Yeah.

Let me tell you, an IV is only worth-while if you get ADMITTED. Never mind if they can't get it right the first time and have to do it over again...

They pumped me full of fluids to see if dehydration was causing the contractions. A liter and some later, no dice.

After more than 4 hours they decided that even though I was having regular contractions, they weren't doing anything. So, apparently, I have a stupid, lazy uterus that doesn't want to do it's job. By this point, I was nearly delirious and couldn't even think straight. I wasn't too tired, however, to be a bit ticked about being told to go in for no good reason. Grumble, grumble.

So, we let Audrey stay at her friend's house rather than get her up out of bed at 9pm. Poor thing! No birthday!

We picked her up early this morning (no sleeping in) and have been running ever since. We went to the mall to see if we can walk this baby out. Then we went to her 2 year check-up. The Dr. K thinks she's doing very well and is quite surprised at how observant she is. He toyed with the idea of autism for a few minutes but quickly threw it out because she doesn't follow the normal patterns for that. She's just a smart girl who notices EVERYTHING (including what we don't want her to).

She got two pokes today. One in the leg (Hep B, I think) and one on her finger. They were checking for diabetes because we mentioned how Audrey seems to be constantly thirsty. Everything turned out okay but we did take a very tired, very sad girl out of the office and had to talk to her all the way home to keep her from crying herself into a fit. Poor girl.

Oh, when they checked her blood sugar, that little finger poke bled like crazy. She got it all over her leg, the exam table, her foot, her stomach, her other hand and I don't know what else.

As I sit typing this, she is on the couch yawning. I'd like to think she'll have a nice, long nap this afternoon.... but I know better.

Stephenie Meyer vs. Stephen King

I recently read an article featuring Stephen King and his opinion about Stephenie Meyer and her Twilight series. Upon being asked what he thinks about the recent success of both Stephenie Meyer and J.K. Rowling, he is quoted as saying, "The real difference is that Jo Rowling is a terrific writer and Stephenie Meyer can't write worth a darn." Unfortunately, the article did not detail any explanation he may have had for these words, so I can't say whether I would agree with him.

I am more than ready to admit that Stephenie Meyer's writing isn't exactly Pulitzer material. However, I would hesitate to say that she can't write at all. In my humble opinion, she captures teen insecurities and awkwardness quite well and her metaphorical language evokes wonderful imagery. Her characters are reasonably realistic, their personal flaws adding dimension to the overall story.

When I first started reading the Twilight series (back before it was an outrageous teen best seller), I remember being inspired by her ability to take a phenomenally ancient legend and reinvent it in surprising and sometimes beautiful ways. I had been feeling rather hopeless in my efforts to do the same with another ancient legendary creature and felt renewed upon reading her books.

Mr. King goes on to say that Stephenie Meyer's writing was attractive to fans (especially young girls) because she was able to connect love and sex in a safe way. Whether he meant that as a compliment or another dismissive comment on her talent, I'm not sure. I, myself, am glad for her sensitivity with such an intimate subject. The fact Edward insists that he and Bella get married before involving themselves in such a sacred act only endears me to the stories all the more. Mr. King in his own writing, however, has no shame in detailing explicit and, in some cases, disgusting episodes of private behavior.

Mrs. Meyer treats the relationships of the characters in her stories with the respect that "real" people would deserve.

While both Mr. King and Mrs. Meyer are now well-recognized authors in their own rights, I have actually read more from the latter than the former. The fact that she, so far, has only written five books says something for my respect and enjoyment of her abilities.

Welts

There is one thing that I suppose I will never understand about (some) men. Why, oh, why do they feel the need to injure each other in the name of fun? Wrestling in the backyard, headlocks, sports of any kind... I can't even think of all the ways manliness comes out in explosive bursts of testosterone. Like badges of honor, they come home smelling of sweat (and who knows what else) and proudly show off their latest injuries to whoever will pay a modicum of attention.

Ben and his buddy, Gabe, went paintballing today with a bunch of other guys (mostly from the ward). I suppose on some level, I understand why it would be fun to go out into the wilderness and play at war. I fail to understand, however, how getting hit in the head at close range by a paintball doesn't ruin it completely. For those of you who haven't either played paintball yourselves or witnessed the outcome of the carnage, you must be thinking, "What? A little paintball? Pffft!" Oh, you lucky souls who have been spared the awful truth.

A little anecdote: I used to subscribe to Rolling Stone magazine. Several years ago, Johnny Knoxville (of Jackass fame) graced the cover. This guy got famous for allowing his friends to do horrible, painful things to him. The cover of the magazine featured him tied to a bullseye, ready to get splattered by paintballs at close range.
Inside the magazine was a picture of the end result. I must assume that he was shot at VERY close range because those welts are some of the nastiest I've ever seen. (Sorry for the underwear shot.)


When I first looked at this article, Ben was not involved in a paintball group. I remember thinking, "What a complete moron!" Moron, indeed. As I said, those welts on Knoxville are some of the nastiest I have ever seen, but Ben has come home with some rather painful-looking ones himself. Arms, legs, hands, back, ribs, head... they've covered quite a bit of area on my mildly retarded husband. But, he usually comes home happy and well-relaxed. I say usually because there have been times he has come home steaming a little over some idiot who ignores the rules and shoots people at very, very close range or tries going into off-limits territory. And don't let me start on the terrible smell he brings home with him, somewhat like fresh air tainted with mildew and sour sweat.. I don't know.. whatever it is.. it's gross.

Catch Up

Wow.. time just flies and I haven't been posting.

First things first. If I hadn't been there for the actual birth, I wouldn't believe that Audrey is my child. She doesn't like chocolate milk!! I am completely boggled. We went out to eat and got her some chocolate milk, just to try it out. She started drinking, stopped, looked confused and let it all dribble out of her mouth onto her bib.. thank heaven for bibs! She must have got her chocolate aversion from her dad.... and here I am with a can of Almond Roca and Ghirardelli White Chocolate at my fingertips... sigh.

My Rant: What is all this I keep hearing about people "Compartmentalizing" their lives?? The line usually goes something like this: "Well, you see, he/she is compartmentalizing his/her life so that it's more manageable and that's why he/she is behaving that way." It sounded a little shady to me... but wait, here is the back story, with the names changed to protect the losers involved.

John and Mary have been married for many years. They have 5 children (all young enough to still be at home) and seem to be relatively happy (at least in public). Don't get me wrong, they have had their problems like all married couples do. Fights, comfort spending & eating, etc... But, overall, they seem to be trying to have a good marriage and raise their kids right. I, personally, look up to them as examples of good, moral people who have something to teach to others by way of example and experience.
An unfortunate conversation with Mary reveals that John a few years prior participated in an indiscression with a female coworker, but that he confessed to Mary and they have been working it out (with the assistance of some councelling). The result was the birth of their 5th child and everything seemed to be hunky-dory again. I mean, would you have a child with someone you don't want a relationship with, really? (Maybe I'm just naive.)

Anyway, when everything blows up, a bunch of us are having a party. We're all having a good time and waiting for everyone to show up. Mary and the kids are already there and waiting for John to get off work to join us. We're starting to get worried because it should only take about an hour to drive and it's been several hours.. we're just about to send out a search party, when he finally shows up. At this point, the story gets fuzzy for me because I was in the back yard and got the story second hand. Apparently John says that he is late because he was at his girlfriends house... at his girlfriends house!! So, things just go downhill from there and I won't get into any of the gory details, but everyone is shocked and Mary is especially distraught.

This all happened several years ago, so the usual stuff has already happened, divorce, yelling, shouting, awful things being said about both sides of the marriage. Mary decides to move to another state that is significantly far away and John says he thinks that is a good idea. (Several of us disagreed, but we weren't able to comment as it's really none of our business after all.)
Through the years, John has made a rather feeble effort to visit his children, saying that it is difficult to get the time off work and drive up there (flying doesn't seem to be an option for some strange reason). He also says that calling is difficult because Mary keeps moving and doesn't give him the new numbers/addresses. (To our knowledge, she has only moved once and there are several people who she notified of the change.)

All the while, John is living with his girlfriend who, incidentally, is the female coworker from several years ago. She has a little girl, who I feel awful for because she really is an innocent in all of this drama.
Anyway, so for the past few years, anyone who knows anything about all this is trying to ignore it and John has been pretty successful in avoiding everyone. So, my feelings on all the goings on are still pretty raw since I haven't had a chance to deal with it all.
Come to find out, John and "the other woman" got married in Vegas last weekend. Thank heaven I wasn't there, I would have had some choice words.. small miracles.
The whole thing just disgusts me. Okay, so if you don't love your spouse anymore, be honest about it and go about it the right way. Sneaking around behind their back, and then letting it slip at some point.. just horrible.

AAAAANYWAY.. the whole compartmentalizing thing. I was talking with John's mother about how weird it was that John wasn't making much of an effort to deal with the issues in his life: seeing his kids, etc. She said that he was "compartmentalizing" his life. She said that he puts things into little boxes so that they become more manageable. The idea, she said, is to deal with each item separately from the others. It sounded kindof hokey to me, so I got an unbiased opinion. My mother, who knows nothing about the situation at all.

She said that people like to put "cute" names on their bad behavior to legitimize themselves. She also said that he is trying to get others to buy into his delusions and that his mother is rationalizing for him or that she feels guilty. Ben said something of the sort when we were talking about it. He said that this mother doesn't want any of her children's behavior to reflect badly on her, so she excuses it the best she can. She doesn't want to take responsibility for the possibility that her parenting may have had an effect on this man's ability to deal with problems or responsibility.

I think what makes me angry the most is that I really looked up to this man and went to him for advice, especially as a new wife and possible mother. And now, I have to look back at everything he ever told me and analyze it to see if his skewed moral outlook tainted it in anyway. It makes me angry that I trusted him. Sorry, this is a super long post, but I do feel better for venting it out.. I'll be on happier topics next time.