Monthly Archives: February 2011

What’s wild, fast and spotted all over?

Okay, well, yes, but in this case, the answer we’re looking for is “Knox.” Poor little guy seems to have come down with a case of Roseola. Last week, we took a trip to the doctor because he had a fever and was very irritable. He was diagnosed with a virus, of course, because he never gets anything that can be cured with an antibiotic, it seems. The next day he sprouted a light rash (doesn’t this always happen after you’ve left the doctor’s office??) over his belly. I called back the doctor, and they said to call back if it didn’t go away in a couple of days. The next day: holy cow. It was everywhere! All over his back, belly, behind his ears and across his forehead. Today, it’s faded slightly, but could last up to a week. He seems to feel just fine, though, thankfully. Look how pitiful he looks.

I'm not so sure about being photographed in this condition...

Despite being heavily speckled, Knox had a great weekend and took his first steps last night! Woo hoo! We knew this was coming soon because he was getting very brave when cruising along the furniture and would let go and stand alone for long periods. It seemed to be bravery issue with him- he just didn’t want to let go! He definitely did last night, though, and chased after a little book we picked up in the Target dollar section. Great investment, if you ask me! Here it is, all caught on video (about the 0:20 mark is where he gets going!):

On the move

Tonight, I played with Knox. Yes, I play with him every day, but I feel like a lot of times, we’re busy corralling him or rushing around finishing one thing or another, and don’t just sit back and enjoy the moment. He’s been sick this week, so we came home early from work today when he got inconsolable. Turns out, just like a grown-up, he just wanted to come home.

I got on his level, followed him around, and just fell in love with him all over again. We are so blessed.

“I prayed for this child, and the LORD has granted me what I asked of him.” ~ 1 Samuel 1:27

Getting Past the Past

I ran into someone this week that I had honestly hoped to never see again. In a nut shell, way back in my freshman year of college, probably seven years ago, I was in the midst of the first “break” with my now husband. We had several of these over the course of a year or two, but this first one was undoubtedly the hardest because I didn’t know where things would end up. I definitely acted out and got a little too wild, doing things I would come to regret soon after. I used to work at Pier 1, and one night, a guy came in to buy a gift off of a registry for his friend’s wedding. I helped him pick it out, one thing led to another, and he ended up getting my phone number. This was not my normal “type” to be sure. He didn’t look like my type, he didn’t act like my type and he was kind of a jerk. I don’t know what possessed me to even talk to someone like that, but nonetheless, I did. We went out a couple of times, and it was clear the guy had some issues. I guess I felt like I needed to validate myself as being attractive enough or worthy enough for attention from males, in general, after being dumped, and a part of me wanted to “get back” at Trevor (even though he had no idea what I was doing), so I fell into this stupid, short-term whatever it was.

One night I picked him up to hang out at my house, he was drunk and couldn’t drive- doesn’t this just scream “good idea?” Anyway, we were kissing and, long story short, he took things to a place I had already told him I wasn’t going to go. It was not a violent or rough situation, just kind of sneaky and deceptive and when I realized what he was doing, I was livid. I took him home and never spoke to him again. I was so mad at myself for putting myself in that type of situation, and madder at him for trying to take advantage of me. Trevor and I ended up getting back together soon after, and I told him about this situation. It bothered him, immensely, being that neither one of us had ever had sex before and I had come dangerously close because this jerk took it upon himself to make a decision for me.

Years went by without incident, I did see him at a festival downtown once, pointed him out to Trevor, and that was that.

Then, two days ago, I went to a meeting for work, and when I walked into the building, guess whose face greeted me behind the receptionist’s desk. To make matters worse, I had Knox with me, and he proceeded to talk to him. I seriously wanted to rip his teeth out for even looking at my baby, much less speaking to him. And then, he told me I “looked familiar” and asked me a line-up of questions like my name, where I went to school, etc, and said he couldn’t figure out where he knew me from. I told him “I don’t know,” and went to my meeting. I was not about to play this ridiculous game with someone who so obviously knew who I was- the realization on his face told me that much- sorry, but I’m worth more than that.

I told Trevor about this encounter when I got home, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it bothered him as much as it bothered me. I can’t get that guy’s disgusting smirk out of my head, and as much as I don’t even want to give him the time of day, I can’t quit thinking about it. I feel such guilt for that whole situation, at least for my part in it. This whole thing has made me even more  thankful for my amazing husband, son and the life I have. I am grateful to God for pulling a college girl out of a mindset that she wasn’t good enough, smart enough, pretty enough to have standards for herself. Let me tell you, my standards now are pretty darn high! I just need to learn to leave the past in the past and move forward because I am forgiven for the person I used to be and what I have done before now. Thank you, God.

My Dirty Secret

In the spirit of full disclosure, here it is: I have a very dirty secret. Upstairs in my normally tidy house, there is a door.

If you come over to my house, this door is almost always closed. There is a reason for that. The first being that when it’s open, I break out into hives of nervousness and get generally stressed out. The second being that I don’t want you to judge me when you see what’s behind it.

Well, I like to think that I am generally pretty honest with you guys, my favorite internet buddies, so here you go: my dirty secret.

Behind door #1 is….

The Guest Room of Doom. I can’t believe I am showing you this. This room collects all of the junk, crap and stuff that we don’t know what to do with, don’t have room for, or can’t/won’t/don’t feel like dealing with any given moment. Every couple of months, we go in, clean up the whole thing and it looks great for a couple weeks. Then, slowly but surely, the junk creeps back in. I blame Trevor for this. Why? Because he’s not here to defend himself. :)

Seriously, it generally starts after my sweet husband takes out his much-loved camping stuff from the attic or closet. He inevitably won’t feel like putting it back up, so it “temporarily” goes into the guest room until we get motivated to move it. The real villain in this story is the attic- it’s such a pain to stick stuff up there so we shove it in the guest room until we get motivated. Anyway, once one thing goes in, it’s like the floodgates of junk open up and swallow up the room. I feel like once it’s a little messy, it’s okay to shove everything I come across in there and ignore it. It doesn’t help that it’s one of only two rooms in our house that still has the hideous forest green carpet (we’ve replaced the rest) so I generally shut the door anyway. A closed door is like an invitation for me to hide things behind it! It’s a sickness, really.

Just because, here are some more pictures of the room detailing exactly what kind of junk is filling it:

I just realized that I am just like Monica on “FRIENDS” with her crazy messy closet. Oh no.

I do plan on cleaning this room this weekend. But while we’re sharing, do you have a spot where you shove all your junk? Or is it just Monica and I? Oh, the shame.

Projects Snowballing

Do you ever feel like when you finish one project, another springs up from the depths to irritate you? Case in point: I finish the laundry room this weekend. Trevor starts painting some trim around the interior of the house. We FINALLY paint the baseboards in our half bath that someone (certainly not me… okay, maybe me) spilled paint all over three years ago. And this morning? Our toilet paper holder falls off of the wall. Darn it. It wouldn’t be so bad if the dry wall hadn’t split when it fell out. Have I mentioned the half-bath is already riddled with patched places in the walls? I think something is wrong with that dry wall, personally, because nothing manages to stay anchored for very long. Hand towel holder? Fell off of the wall. Original TP holder? Falling out before I ripped it out to replace it. Current TP holder? We’ve been through this. It’s on the floor. And yes! I used special dry wall anchors. They aren’t so special, it turns out.

I like doing projects when I choose to do them, not so much when they’re forced upon me. Drat. I guess I know what I’ll be doing this weekend… nagging my husband to install another fixture in the bathroom. Ha!

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