Rebuilding The Roanes

Friday, February 12, 2010

100 things I love about my Valentine, Nate

100 things I love about my Valentine, Nate:

He laughs at my stupid jokes
He always tells me I look good even when I know I don't
He loves Valentines day!
He remembers the exact date of our first date
He remembers the exact date of our first kiss
His smile
He'll watch chick movies with me
He'll cry in chick movies with me
He likes to shop
He likes fashion
He says I love you at least once a day
He sometimes calls in the middle of the day just to see how I am doin
He cleans the bathrooms
He likes scented candles
He always cuddles with me in bed
He buys me chocolates
He will massage my feet
He does the dishes
He can change a diaper
He always holds my hand
He's cute
He likes watching Extra with me
He packs me lunches for work
He always includes sweets in the lunches he packs for me
He always says he likes my cooking
He always does something special for my birthday
He wants to buy me things all the time
He's a good sport about me teasing him all the time
He loves me even when it seems the rest of the world doesn't
He feeds the cat when i forget
He's always on my side
He tells me I'm beautiful
He tells me that my butt's not fat
He does the laundry
He likes to look good
He doesn't complain if I don't do any housework for a day
He lets me sleep in on his day off
He let me have the other side of the bed so I could see the tv better
He's warm
He's a great father
He reads books to the kids in funny voices
He plans dates for us
He likes to kiss me
He tells me he misses me when I'm gone
He gives me shoulder massages
He doesn't complain if I just want to ignore him in favor of a good book
He will give me fashion advice
He takes the kids to church when I can't be there
He always says nice things about me to his friends and co-workers
He lets me have girl's nights out
He actually likes The Quilted Bear
He writes me love notes
He always makes our anniversary special
He watches Harry Potter with Ashton
He'll take the girls out for "daddy dates"
He never raises his voice
He's patient
He's kind
He loves animals-but not in his house
He loves his family and worries for them
He knows my favorite candies
He will bring me my favorite candies or chocolate when I'm PMS-ing
He's patient when I'm in a bad mood
He wants me to be happy
He wants to help decorate the house
He tells me I look hot in lingerie
He's sweet
He finds the good in everyone
Hee, hee sixty-nine!
He bought me a Jimi Hendrix tee-shirt because he knows I like his music
He listens to music he hates just because I like it
He never acts jealous when I oogle over hot actors on t.v.
He never oogles over other women
He likes love songs
He tells me some love songs remind him of us
He's a good kisser
He lights candles when he wants to be romantic
He is pretty romantic (more than I gave him credit for)
Our relationship is a priority to him
He points out the good things about me
He listnes to me whine when I have a bad day
He's thoughtful
He has a really cute butt
He doesn't know how cute he is
He lets me buy expensive jeans
He always apologizes when he makes me mad
He can eat cereal and drive at the same time
He's so smart
He doesn't know how smart he is
He's modest
He nibbles my ears because he knows it drives me wild
He lets me grab his ears-because he knows I like it
He's funny
He tells me I'm the only one for him
He lets me cry on his shoulder when I really need to cry
He makes sexual inuendos in front of the kids because he knows they won't get it and it makes me laugh
He taught me to appreciate sports (somewhat)
He's a man of integrity
He lets me ramble on about the kids, my mother, work, whatever.
He's simply wonderful!

Thank you for letting me be sappy for a minute!

Sunday, February 7, 2010

Primitive Pee-pee pleasures

Peeing outside is one of man's most primitive pleasures.

It is not often that we are able to partake of this little pleasure, but when we can, the result is nothing short of exhilirating.

Some of you might be shaking your heads right now saying, "What? Not me. I'm civilized."

You're lying to yourself as well as to the rest of us.

Think back, maybe way way back, dig deep.

You'll find that memory in there somewhere.

You. Exposed. The fresh outdoor air blowing against your nakedness.

The thrill of knowing that at any moment you could get caught.

All of this mixed with the relief of emptying your bladder.

Its heaven!

This little primitive pleasure is not something many of us are really able to partake of quite so freely in the winter months.

Matthew was privledged to do just that a couple of nights ago.

It was about 7:00 pm. on a Thursday evening. Nate announced that we all were to take a family trip to the local Rite Aide drug store to buy some kind of fancy new blade for shaving his head.

Being especially tired that evening, I inadvertantly forgot to inforce the 'Everyone pees before we leave' rule.

And guess what? Matthew was doing the pee-pee dance something fierce just as we all walked into the store.

I told Nate that Matthew had to pee. Nate pretended not to hear me. So...I took my son to the clerk at the front and asked if she had a restroom we could use. (Matthew's dance was getting quite intense by this time).

"Oh. Sorry, its broken!" She excalimed happily.

Why this chick was so happy about telling me that their facilities were not functioning, I will never know but she's lucky I didn't wipe that stupid grin off with my fist, I'll tell ya that much.

I marched Matthew back to Nate, told him the situation and suggested that he take him outside to a semi-private spot and let him relieve himself. Nate, being ever so refined and dignified refused to do it. By this time Matthew's pee-pee dance is looking more like convulsions.

"Can he just wait until we get home? it's not that far." Nate asks

"I don't know hon, I'll be surprised if he can wait until we get to aisle three."

"Matthew, can you wait? We're leaving right now?"

Matthew doesn't say anything, just looks up at me with wide, panicked eyes.

"C'mon." I say, And I march him outside, to the far edge of the deserted parking lot where a large bank of snow provides both the perfect cover and target.

Now, Matthew has never peed standing up before, so naturally he needed help. Of course, I'm not familiar with the mechanics of little boys' little units either, and I can now state for the record that its not as easy as it looks!

If you don't point that little thing up enough, the result is dribblets on the front of the pants.(which I learned about that night). On the other hand, if you point the little unit up too far...well you'll get what Matthew got, a urine hair rinse.

Once I got the hang of how the anatomy all worked, we both had a lot of fun. Matthew was delighted at how bright yellow his pee looked against the white snow. I was just happy to see how much pee I wouldn't be cleaning up from the car seat. (And believe me, that was a lot of pee. I think my boy must be part camel). And of course it was exhilirating!

After that little experience, I think I finally understand penis envy.

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

Punxsutawney phil verses PITA

I should write something, because if I don't write something soon the three readers I have will not read this anymore. Where oh where would I be without my couple of readers. Thanks to those who like my postings.

Anyway, I have been so completely uninspired the last few weeks. I don't really know why, but I think it has something to do with January. Thank goodness its now February and if spring doesn't get here soon I think I'll have a nervous break down!

Speaking of February, we just got past groundhog day and as my little girls have informed me we will indeed have six more long weeks of winter weather to endure. But I never heard if old Punxsutawney Phil went through with his appearance this year or not. If you haven't heard the story, PITA, the animal rights activists were trying to put an end to the real Punxsutawney Phil ceramony in Pennsylvania. They asked that a robotic ground hog be put in place of the real ground hog because they felt the annual ceremony may be too traumatic for the little fellow.

Is it just me or does it sound like PITA is bored? Maybe someone needs to report some actual animal abuse so the good folks there at PITA will have something to do. Perhaps the people at PITA are just looking for something to get their name put in the papers again. Bad publicity is still publicity, and since the Michael Vick situation has run its course, the media has forgotten all about the poor animal rights activists.

Everyone pray that one of the Victoria's Secret super sluts go out in a mink coat this week because I'm tired of PITA stupidity.

Sunday, January 24, 2010

Scattered thoughts inspired by Sixty minutes

Sixty minutes was most indefinately created for old people. Case-in-point: ducolax, fiber laxitive commercials, are aired on nearly every commercial break.

Anyway, thats beside the point. More importantly, tonight on sixty minutes they were reviewing some of the great interviews that were conducted by the late Don Hewitt. I'm not really familiar with him.

But...what caught my attention, as I sat at my reception desk in the waiting room tonight, was that Don Hewitt once interviewed Gorbichoff (?) Is that how you spell it?
Anyway, during the interview, which was conducted outside on Gorbichoff's private tennis court, the dictator noted that when he and his wife were first married they had very little money and therefore did not have much furniture.

"We had to do everything on the floor", he said, "we ate on the floor, we made love on the floor."
He paused a moment, then added, "That's why we got girls."

really?

"Tommy, you think thats true?" I ask, turning to face my co-worker.
She looks up from the catalogue she's thumbing through. "huh? what?"
"Gorbichoff just said if you make love on the floor you'll concieve a girl. You think that's true?"
Tommy just grins politely and shakes her head.
"I've heard lots of old wives tales about how to concieve a certain sex of child, but I've never heard that one."

Suddenly a miriad of memories flood my brain. Memories you don't want to hear anything about. Come to think of it though, both of my girls were concieved on the floor. Coincidence? Probably. But my very interesting and creative son Matthew, concieved via car. Could that have something to do with his creative personality?
Creative love making = creative offspring.
Its an interesting and creative idea.

Sunday, January 17, 2010

OCD, and the never-ending quest for the perfect kitchen calendar

Nate continues to deny that he has OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder). Its cute really, this ability of his to live within his own make-believe world. What is really mind-boggeling, however, is that he can continue to proclaim he is not obsessive in the face of his latest obsession.

Nate's newest obsession, that is finding the perfect 2010 calendar to hang in our kitchen, began with the ringing in of the new year and persists to this present day.

We have been out on numerous shopping trips with the agenda to find our new calendar in mind, none of which proved fruitful. Once, I even thought we'd found it, the one. It was a charming little calendar, donning various photographs of England's country side. I figured it would be a shoo-in. No such luck. Nate, of course, zoned in on the one photograph in the lot of tweleve that he didn't much care for, thus rendering the entire calendar useless.

Another, near success, was a beautiful number entitled, 'twelve places to visit before you die.', but was ultimately rejected due to an apparant bend in its corner.

I, personally don't understand the importance of aesthetics for a calendar we only end up mutilating and scribbling on, over the course of the year. And, anyone who knows me knows I'm none too patient with these obsessive behaviors. Therefore, in order to avoid conflict, I have tried to assure my husband that I have every confidence in his ability to find a beautiful calendar to grace the walls of our ugly kitchen, and to keep my mouth shut. That was of course until last night, when I foolishly attempted to make a point, make a joke, and put an end to this insanity for good, all in one move.

I was at the mall, returning some pants I had bought for Brooke a while back, (she found them so hideous she wouldn't even touch them, and dubbed them 'the ugly grandma pants'), and decided to stop in at See's candies for a free sample while I was there. (I'm afraid I'm terribly shameless about my use of the free sample policy at See's.) Anyway, as I was walking back toward the exit closest to my car, I glanced at the calendar booth set up in the middle of the mall, and noticed this perfectly tacky calendar:

And...what's better is it was 75% off making this little gem only $3.00.

I was sold. I bought the calendar, knowing Nate's disdain for any pictures of animal life as well as his absolute disgust for rodents, and hung it, proudly on the kitchen wall.

All evening I waited in anticipation for Nate to return from work and happen upon this calendar. Surely he would see the humor. Surely he would see that I was making light of his silly quest. Surely we would both have a good laugh over photos of gerbils in flower pots, and sporting bifocals. Surely this would ease the tension he's been building.

Surely I do not know my husband as well as I thought I did.

Needless to say, my joke did not have the desired effect. Nate was both appauled and disgusted as well as angry for the $3 I wasted on an ugly calendar. My gerbil friends were immediately pulled off the wall and discarded as mere trash. I then, spent the remainder of the evening listening to Nate's lecture on handling finances responsibly. And so, continues the quest for the perfect kitchen calendar.

Maybe I should have gotten the goats.

Sunday, January 10, 2010

Melancholy and the ugly monster

When someone very close to you is going through something very hard, the effects of that hardship kind of radiates out to you. Like tentacles of an octapus, it takes hold and pulls you in. Then, before you know it, you're right there beside them, living out their nightmare.

This ugly monster, this octapus with its angry tentacles has been present in my relationship with this friend from the beginning, sometimes loosening its grip, sometimes sliping out of sight completely, giving me false hope that it has gone away when in realtiy its laying just beneath the surface, waiting to rear its ugly head once again.

For a while, I've been able to justify, "Its just a little case of the blues," You say. "It'll get better when this happens, or when this is over." Then, when things don't get better, I blamed myself. "Maybe if I were a better friend." Inevitably the frustration reached its boiling point, pushing all kindness and understanding out the window, leaving only anger, or so I thought. Eventually, the anger, too has subsided revealing the sadness that has, from the beginning been laying right there underneath it all. Now, I must figure out what to do next, how to move on and how I can best help my dear friend. This process will take some time.

In the meantime, I'll take it one day at a time, one moment at a time if I have to. I'll have to insist on having 'the talk' again, my own little intervention of sorts. This time I'm going to be more than persuasive about seeking a professional on this matter. This time, there's an ultimatum, me or the monster.

Sunday, January 3, 2010

Plugged in and tuned out

I have a beef with the technology-obsessed twenty-something generation and I'm going to bitch about it. First, I must confess: I am not technology savvy, I do not know how to text, I do not even own a cell phone and I absolutely refuse to waste my time with twitter. Some might say that I just don't understand. To that I will agree: I don't. and I don't want to.

This little beef stems mostly from my twenty-two year old neice whom, I absolutely adore, and absolutely love spending time with, but could do without the constant interruption from her cell phone when we are together. Am I selfish to want the precious little time we have to spend with eachother to be completely devoted to just us? Mabe, but in my opinion this is a matter of:

1. common courtesy

2. making the most of the moment we're in at the moment we're in it

I know I'm not alone in this school of thought. John Mayer just wrote a current blog post vowing to turn off the texting device and stay the heck out of twitter for a week. He encourages his fans and friends to do the same and when those seven days are up to write about what they missed or didn't miss while on the tech fast. My hope is that all these techies have some real moments that otherwise would have been spoiled by their obnoxious gadgets.

Lets take a moment to examine my points more closely. First, can anyone really argue that there is ever an appropriate time other than when one is not in the company of others to answer a phone call or text? I mean, nothing says "I don't really want to be here with you" like answering a call in the middle of a face-to-face conversation with someone else. Its just plain rude. If someone I was dating (thinking back to when I was single) had their cell on while out to dinner with me, it would be the last supper they had with me. If someone's phone starts playing 'don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me' in the movie theatre you can bet the owner of that phone is getting more than a nasty look from me. And when I'm in the middle of doing my job, which would be checking patients in at the clinic, and they start talking on their phone I suddenly develop an overly loud voice. Why should visiting with family be any exception? Its not any less rude to text in the middle of a conversation with a family member or friend.

My second, and perhaps even more important point was that these young people who are constantly attached to their cell phones and text messenger gadgets are missing out on moments of their lives, or at the very least lessening the value of the moments in their lives. Everywhere you go you're subjected to teenage kids ignoring the parent they are currently with to punch out messages to friends on their little key pads. Or worse, parents who put the moment they're in with their child on hold while they answer a call from their cell phone.

I miss the good old days when telephones were anchored to the kitchen wall, not your hip. When phone calls from boyfriends were taken excitedly to the closet where a person could have a private conversation. I miss the days when leaving the house meant leaving all calls to be answered by the machine and time spent with loved ones was real quality time.

Thats my beef. I'm done.