Recently in Steven Category

Being ill last week and answering your email and comments has left me with the cream of the crop of commentary. Thank you all! Today is the first day that I feel like I am back and got my stuff together. Today is also the day I climb back on the wagon with my dieting. You must know through all of this I have only been able to eat and keep down white foods, milk, bread, yogurt, potatoes, rice. It has been nice while it lasted but I know I have gained back a pound or two. :-( Today I have to start taking it off again. Back to salads and lean meats. You have no idea how unappealing salad has been the last week. So anyway - One of the subjects of the comments and emails has been a comment Steve made just this past week. When discussing how no one is ever as sick or as tired as he is when he is sick I made a comment about my body physically supporting the process of making our baby and the trials I suffered while carrying him for nine months. The whole flesh of my flesh conversation. Now if you are a female and have experienced pregnancy and childbirth you have a perfect understanding of -

morning sickness, phantom aches and pains, headaches, killer heartburn, pressure on your bladder, kicks and punches to your ribs and organs, unbelivable pressure on the floor of your pelvis, the urgency to urinate frequently, a sneeze or cough that causes the bladder to leak, heemoroids, constipation, swollen feet, face and hands, weight gain/loss, hair falling out, dark spots on your skin (the mask of childbirth), not to mention the poking and proding by doctors, nurses, lab techs, the whole lack of descency and the degrading need to have half a dozen people looking and proding your nether regions, the actual force of labor, the pain, oh, the pain, the needles, the broken blood vessels, the passing of a seven to eight body through an opening at best 10 cm, the swollen tenderness of your body afterward, the abdmminal cramps, the 4 to 6 weeks of birthing aftermath, sore, blistered nipples from the first week of breastfeeding, -

Do I need to go on with the basics? I think you all know what I am talking about and can add a dozen or more complaints to the list of the physical suffering to bring a bundle of blessed joy into this world. We women know child birth. We have looked it in the face and for the most part come out the victors. Our beautiful, wonderful babies are our trophies. All this leading to this - He said to me - "I was there and went through all of it with you. I suffered the same as you did every day." "Oh, you did? You were so sick every day you couldn't hold your head up? You went through the aches and pains and the hives and the constant pressure on your bladder -?" "I was right there, I did it all." WTF???!!?? "You did it all? You physically carried this baby and supported his life with your own? You have also spent the last year of his life supporting his body with your own by breastfeeding him every two hours for months and months?" "I have done it all, except the breastfeeding." A side note here that while Steven was sick and the only time he kept anything on his stomach was when he breastfed, Steve questioned my ability to care for the baby, to sustain his diet, he attacked my ability on so many levels by insinuating that breastfeeding was not enough to sustain the baby. WTF have I been doing his entire life? Secretly feeding him protein shakes in a bottle and not actually breastfeeding him? My boobs have supported that baby from the day he was born! "And you laughed at me while I suffered!" "No, I did not, " a shit eating grin on his face, head down trying to hide it. "You laughed at me when Steven kicked me so hard my bladder leaked and I wet my clothes. You laughed at me on many occassions!" "I never laughed at you," while he tried his best to hide and stiffle his laughter, making a quick exit to bring in firewood and end the conversation. All the while he was grinning and chuckling. Why is it a man thinks he knows every thing about birthing babies and he has NEVER had one labor pain yet he refuses to give a woman her due when it comes to earning her stripes of motherhood. Standing in a labor room watching your child come forth is NOT the same experience as the sheer physical will to get him there. Watching a baby being born is not standing at the cusp of life and death. Watching a baby being born is no way compensates for the physical act of labor. Steve's constant insistance that he knows all and has experienced all when it comes to the nine months and the birthing of a baby makes me take back a tiny bit of respect I have for him. He knows nothing, you can't even begin to explain it to him, yet he insists he knows it all and has experienced it all. He also doesn't realize (or refuses, not sure which) that he makes himself look like the biggest ass mankind has ever created when he makes those comments. He also makes me very angry at him deep down on some primal level. The one thing we women have that men don't have is the ability to bring life into this world. Men are physically incapable of bearing a child the way we women have been blessed to do so. Why must men always try to take the very last shred of what makes us a woman away from us? I am not male bashing here. Nor am I trying to make Steve look like an ass. He already did that by his comments. I am just blowing off steam. It bites my ass that he and many other men think they know so much when they don't know sh!t about certain things other than the mechanics of it all. Please tell me if your husband/significangt other has said equally as assinine remarks concerning childbirth.

Saturday night we went to a corporate 'holiday' party. Yes, I know it is January. It seems MANY companies have their holiday parties in January in D.C. It must be easier to rent the ballrooms AFTER the holidays in question because nearly every nice hotel was crawling with party goers. Saturday morning I went out looking for a pair of black heels. I haven't worn heels since before I got pregnant with Steven. I ended up at Payless of all places and found a simple pair of black heels. Everything I own is opened toed and I really thought a closed toe was better with the outfit I was wearing. Palllazo pants with side split and new black heels. I wore a red blouse/jacket type thing that I bought myself before Christmas as a gift to me. I popped in the shop after finally getting a pair of shoes yesterday and found the silver/grey similar styled blouse on clearance and then 40% off that price so I picked it up and brought it home too. I have no idea when I will ever get to wear it. I find this to be a very elegant red. The only thing I have to show for the incredible night view of the Washington Monument and the Lincoln Memorial is this shot of the back of Steve's head. The flash would not turn off! so you can guess I nearly blinded him while he drove us along I-395. If only you could see the Washington Monument and Lincoln Memorial. I did get a photo of the second tunnel on I-395 before we got lost and ended up on New York Avenue down SW way. Holy Moly. Second tunnel on I-395. We were not the only party goers with poor directions. Many people said the directions issued with the invites sucked. But evenutally we found ourselves where we were supposed to be somewhere along New Jersey Ave. in a hotel ballroom. The employees were given $125k in poker chips. Each $25k was worth one raffle ticket. We ended up with $625k in chips at the end of the night. We planned blackjacked and nothing else. Lots of drinks and lots of food. It all flowed freely. The DJ man looked like Jerry springers long lost brother. The games was a large screen TV. People danced. Several women looked to be one drink away from hugging the porcelain throne. It was a fun night. I enjoyed meeting everyone. However ... How do so many very skinny and pretty young 20-something women end up with cellulite clear down to their ankles? Who never taught them that strapless dresses do require undergarments because small saggy breasts make your dresses look cheap. Why do they not comb their hair? I mean seriously when did a hot mess become fashionable? Aside from critisizing their appearance I met several very sweet young women. I also learned that my 'sweet gentlman' husband has been charming these women into submission. They gush over him. They smile so sweetly and offer to get him drinks. They stand behind him and watch him play blackjack. One had a complete startled look when she found out I was his wife. It would be so easy to get upset over this behavior but I know why they fawn over him. He uses his manners while talking to them. I witnessed much less-than-polite behavior from others toward these young girls/women. Steve and his other wife, Angie. Jennifer is not pictured. :-/ One thing that will never die from this night out - our first nice night out in over two years - Steven introduced me as "Jennifer" - as in "This is my wife Jennifer" as I shook the hand of a nice young woman. This was about the 6th or 7th time he was introducing me to someone new. Each time he did suavely and with perfection. This time - ummm not so suave. I shook her hand and said, "Hi, I am Angie, Steve's other wife." Hahahaha! Enough about us. Look who is working. Colby before work. Look who is climbing. Fuzzy photo as I quickly shot, put down the camera and rescued him from himself. CLIMBING.

... and then I'll tell you how much I love you," I said to Steve Sunday afternoon. He looked up from his laptop and said, "I love you so much it is unquantifiable." "Oh," I turned from my place in front of the fire, "mine is quantifiable and two words. Apple. Pie." The light bulb went on and his eyes gleamed. Yes, he is spoiled. I made his favorite for Sunday supper dessert -apple pie. I used the Virginia Staymans. Goodness but that is a most excellent apple. We also are had roasted potatoes, salad and a standing rib roast served with horseradish. Mmmmmmm mmmm.

Setting: Kitchen, evening, getting supper on the table. I am standing at the stove making plates for everyone. Colby is at the table feeding Steven mashed potatoes because he can't wait when he smells food. Steve is wandering about the kitchen because he never takes his seat at the table until I do. Gracie is in the fridge getting out steak sauce and other things when she says, "I am trying to get the condoms for the table. You know, all those sauces and things we need to eat proper." Steve made a very good attempt at the transition to the word condiments by way of condo's but he was about to hyperventilate when he thought he might have to address the subject 'condoms'. He was quite red in the face and bit sweaty in a matter of just a few seconds. All I could do was laugh. Today is the first day of school for Gracie. We leave in a few minutes. I'll be back later to post a photo. First day in third grade.
She can't believe I brought the camera to school and not real impressed with me at the moment.

We had agreed that the kitchen would be gifted to ourselves instead of buying anniversary presents. He brought me pink roses anyway. Happy Anniversary, My Darling.

On July 2, 1776 the United Colonies of America voted on and adopted the resolution declaring independence from Great Britain officially becoming the United States of America. It was on this day that John Adams thought would be celebrated by future generations of Americans writing to his wife Abigail on July 3, 1776:

"The Second Day of July 1776 will be the most memorable Epocha, in the History of America. . . . It ought to be solemnized with Pomp and Parade, with Shews, Games, Sports, Guns, Bells, Bonfires, and Illuminations from one End of this Continent to the other from this Time forward forever more."

Steve was born July 2. He is officially a Yankee Doodle Boy. Happy Birthday, my darling!

After my divorce I went through the I-am-never-getting-married-again stage. It took a while but in time I came to my senses and realized that I could not hold every man accountable for the shitty way my marriage left me thinking and feeling. So then I stepped into the I-will-marry-again-one-day but it quickly transferred to the but-he-can't-already-have-kids subdivision, which quickly was upgraded to a-man-who-has-never-been-married-before department. I had convinced myself from observing those around me that I wanted NOTHING to do with baggage from a previous marriage. Mine was enough and I certainly didn't want to help tote anyone else's bags around. I was steadfast in my determination to not get involved with men who may have been married before and those who had children from previous marriage(s). I especially gave wide birth to those who had kids but had never felt they needed to marry the mother either. My pickiness good sense left extremely slim pickings in the single men category. That was perfectly okay with me. However it didn't take long to realize that most of those men were only interested in tiny blondes with big boobs and no sense at all. What was left wasn't much to write home about. It was my experience from those I met that women with children were not a top choice either but if you were only interested in some recreational sex then you were a red-hot commodity in the single world. No, thank you. You have to marry this cow if you want milk. I don't give nothin’ away. So being single again, with children, living in the boondocks, not putting out and not caring to be a Sometime Sunshine for a good ole boy, left me sitting at home a lot on Friday night date night. Saturday night, too, if you want the complete honest truth. Sunday nights as well if you want the brutal truth. Which really was no big loss to me anyway. I just hated the looks from other single people. I also hated the thoughts I could read on their faces with them thinking pathetic thoughts about me rarely having a date. That was okay, too. I would rather be dateless than stoop to the I'll-go-out-with-anyone-just-so-I-have-a-date that many of them did. I shiver thinking how low several stooped just to not be at home on a Friday or a Saturday night. There are a couple times I stumbled and didn't realize I stooped until it was far too late. I seriously hang my head in shame and hope to god no one ever finds out the complete details of those few times. I had had enough of all of the varying degrees of single men (and one who wasn't single but wanted to pretend he was) by the time I met Steven that a divorced man with a child from a preivous marriage wasn't such a taboo thing after all. Today that divorcee and this divorcee are the happy parents of a four month old baby boy. Steven, 4 months old today Life doesn't get much better. ***** There is breaking news on the internet this morning )and no it isn't that baby picture - let's move on from that old news). This is big news. This is beautiful news. OMG is she beautiful. And she has her own newspaper column. Go see. Go on. Oh. And it is her birthday. Go party. Happy Birthday, Lucinda! This is a big bonus day. Lucinda is posting on Mamarazzi today. Make sure you check her out.

Want to know how I know that I married the world's most perfect man? Want to know how I know that no other man in the world would do for me the way Steven does? Want to know how I know how much he loves me? I'll tell you how I know ... I do the breastfeeding ... And he? ... He does the 3am burping and rocking of the baby boy. If that isn't love I don't know what is ...

Have you ever watched a baby who won't take no for an answer and MUST spit and lap into your glass trying to get a drink? While the adult tries to tip the glass just enough not to spill it? Keep that image in mind. No matter where Steven is in the evenings there is always a glass of water never too far away. He drinks alot of water, even with his meals. If I am going to the kitchen I will refill his glass as will he. At bedtime the glass is empty. Mr. Darcy, this morning Last night I sat on the couch and Steven had the kitten in his lap over on the other small sofa. The kitten curled in his lap. The kitten rolled and tumbled along side of his stretched out legs. The kitten walked up his chest and rubbed its head against his face. Steven drank his water, absently petting the kitten while we watched Law and Order. I checked my email and looked up to see ... Steven holding his glass at an angle letting HIS kitten lap the last of his water from the glass. He has no one but himself to blame for every single bad habit every animal we feed has developed. Moving It With Mistress Mary: Heavy housecleaning (my mother is coming next week!) 600 trips up 2 flights of stairs (16 steps each) to the attic, where I have put away Halloween things, brought out Thanksgiving things and am working on Christmas things and wrapping gifts. NaNoWriMo Word Count: 16971, no change, brain dead -my mother is coming! Thanksgiving: Almost ready, most foods purchased and many things in some stage of preparation waiting in the freezer. My Mother is coming!! Need to get up to Bed, Bath and Beyond for linen spray and little things to pamper her with. Christmas: Christmas cards reprinted and should be delivered today. Christmas Party: Planning under way, trying to decide on the cakes I will bake. Invitations ready. Gracie's Birthday: Gifts purchased, wrapping to do. Christmas Eve: Dinner reservations to be made for the absolute best Peking duck and plum sauce.

Mowing: - the yard - the orchard - 2 fields around the chicken barn - clearings around the livestock barn - trim around the house, the boxwoods, the fences, the roadside ditches Clear everything from the side porch and store it properly in the barn. Continue filling the sink hole where the pool heater gas tank is buried and the rain settled the earth. Take everything I have been throwing out of the house and attic to the landfill. Fill the back of the Excursion with all the things I need to take to the Good Will. Lay with me in the dark and dream about our baby. ******* The last time I posted a photo of my house several people commented they had never seen my house before then. Here are a couple photos. The front of the house and the back. The back view was taken before they destroyed my yard constructing the pool -which is still no where near being finished because of 8 straight days of rain. It is now 2 feet deep in rain water. Front of house Back of HouseThe huge bush at the back of the house, nearly reaching the second story roof, is a boxwood. The boxwoods here are the same age as the house. We have at least 25 that size or bigger. They look like trees not shrubs. Koi Pond Path to the Koi Pond Water Garden Damson Orchard I am off to order a truck load of mulch in preparation for the coming winter. We need about 200 cubic feet. Anyone care to volunteer to come help spread it? We do have a front end loader and cart but it will still require lots of shoveling and raking.