Seriously, I haven't been this embarrassed since high school.

So there I was, scrambling to find a swimsuit that in some way flatters my still fat ass. My mother and I went to TJ Maxx. Now, usually I can not discount shop for swimsuits, because I have ridiculously large breasts and must have maximum support, coverage and still some element for cuteness (read: I spend over a hundred). This year however, times are pretty tight. We have less than a month left in our savings and while that might dissuade some people from shopping, well... you can't keep a good card down.
Back to the Maxx. So, my mom is being a saint, playing with the munchkin at the entrance to the dressing rooms while I mad dash try on suits in hopes of a miracle for our annual trip to Florida to see Pauls parents. Let me lay the ground work for this by saying that I am 30, and was sealed to my husband less than a year ago, after about 10 years inactive. Needless to say, garments are new. I find an appropriate suit and throw my clothes back on grab the suit off the floor and truck out of the dressing room in hopes of getting Elle home in time for a nap. My mother looks at me and says, "Katy... your shirt?" I look down in horror, I had grabbed my suit AND my shirt off the floor and neglected to put the shirt on. I FELT fully clothed! Mortified, stunned and mortified I gasped and ran to the dressing room threw on my shirt and considered momentarily just setting up housekeeping there. I mean it is connected to a homegoods, I could live there for awhile right?

This one's for Mia, or the no holds barred ugly truth about my honeymoon

*WARNING* If you are male, not related to me and attend my church, you should refrain from reading this particular post in order to maintain the ability to say hello in the halls without an inappropriate and downright unappealing visual.

Paul and I married in a little chapel on Captiva Island in November of 2006. It was a brilliant wedding, thanks in no small part to my brilliant mother who pretty much gave herself hemorrhoids to get everything perfect for her last remaining single daughters impending nuptials. The weather was perfect, we were deliriously happy, my in-laws were sober and able to stand in the same room with each other. Like I said, BRILLIANT.
I had been a smokin' quasi mormon when I met Paul, and he encouraged me to go for the gold. Yes, ladies, the man actually WANTED to stop having sex with me 6 months into our relationship in order to facilitate my returning to full activity as I so desired. You can fawn over him, he is that amazing.
I digress, so, we were as newly weds should be... desperate to get back to our hotel. I demanded that we cut the cake and fast so we could return to our hotel and consummate our blessed union. Having no health insurance, I had recently visited planned parenthood to get birth control and because the pill turns me into a fatter lunatic, I decided to go with the nuva ring. IF you are not aware of this little contraption in is a ring that secretes hormones and that you insert up towards the cervix once a month. I was excited at the thought of not having to use condoms and not making my husband sorry he married me because of the horomone surges. (That would come later...thank you pregnancy)
We rushed back to the hotel and jumped into bed. Then it was, "OUCH!" Ahhh, hold on it hurts. Apparently I am allergic to the nuva ring. Wedding night, EPIC fail!
I immediately take the damn thing out and we buy condoms on the way to the airport to head for our amazingly romantic private island, overwater thatched hut in Bora Bora. We cuddle and kiss and make people nauseated in the airport. We arrive in Papeette and stay in a nice hotel that night before our short flight to the Bora Bora. We then are picked up by the boat to go to the island hotel.
People speak french and are golden brown and give us flowers. We sign in at the front desk and they serve us little tasty heart cakes and fresh squeezed juice. We head to the hut and are amazed! We go to the island beach restaurant for dinner and have oysters and sushi and sparkling water. We attempt a wedding night do over, but no luck. My vagina has jumped ship, closed up shop, locked the door and bolted the chain. We cuddle, I cry and my dear new husband comforts me and assures me that he does not regret marrying a frigid woman. We fall asleep smiling because barring this, we are smitten with each other and grateful to be married.
Somewhere around 3am I awake with a start. I have a stomach cramp. Thinking it is travel gas(come on, you KNOW you get off of the plane with the toots) I go to the bathroom and sit down marveling at the bidet. I mean really, a bidet? How do you even use one of those things? Anywhoo, I feel that oh so uncomfortable feeling that is diarrhea and I think, "Oh no, frigid and shitty? I am going to throw myself into the sea!" Little did I know that my embarrassment was about to be the least of my problems.
Within the hour I was laying in the bathtub trying to feel better when I started to feel nauseated. I know what you are thinking, you are thinking, well maybe it is just food poison and she will get over it by the morning. Dear reader, by the morning, I was writhing naked on the bathroom floor alternately vomiting and pooping, pooping and vomiting and even at least once vomiting into the bidet while pooping. For 56 hours I did this. There was no medicine on this paradise island, no pepto, no tylenol, not a thing to stop me up.
For his part, Shmoo was a dear. He took it in stride. He rubbed my back, got me fresh clothes, when I put them on, got the bed ready for me each time I tried to lay down. Inevitably I would end up back in the tub, or on the floor, the toilet or sitting in the shower (what can I say, I am a water baby, it cures all ills.) By the 56th hour thing were slowing down. I was finally able to cling to DH out to the water and watch him snorkel. Of course, I forgot in my delirium to put on sunscreen and so by sundown I was burned to a crisp on top of it all.
I made what would prove to be an 80 dollar 4 minute phone call to my mother and we set about getting emergency flights home as soon as possible.
We would have stayed after my stomach stopped its revolt, but by them, the smell of tahitian vanilla bean which permeated the island has become my own Eau de Hell. On the bright side? I lost ten pounds in 5 days. It was the most expensive colon cleanse in the history of colonics. I am going to try to talk the Bun into going to Disney world for her honeymoon. They have fully stocked pharmacies there.

Mothers Day

Had I been told that I would be desperately happy to receive the above pictured for my first mothers day even a year ago, I most likely would have snorted and sneered at he who dared to attempt to domesticate me, as if I were some kind of animal. Now? Now I am ecstatic. Being a mom means not really having anything visible to work and finish... Sure there is laundry, but it multiplies. There is cooking, but it just gets eaten and leaves a mess. There are diapers, sippy cups, baby food clean ups, grocery store visits, baths and every once in a while, I get to shave my legs. While all very time consuming and necessary, I used to have a job. I used to get praise, a raise, travel benefits, emergency phone calls with problems I could actually solve.
These things made me feel important in some way, acknowledged for something I could measure. Motherhood, well, there isn't really a measure now is there? It's not like the sims where I could feed, diaper, burp, cuddle and build up points that will net me a napping child when I need a moment. This is the hardest thing I have ever done, but I am loving every minute of it.
Back to my machine. I made a dress for Elle the other day on my moms machine. Simple, cute, easy. I loved having a project that was finishable. So, my husband, for mothers day, got me my own. I can now start and finish things for myself. I do not have to go to moms or borrow her machine. The question now is what to sew first? Thank you Paul, for the machine, for the baby, for love and happiness. You are the best. I lovey you.

The Missing Tree

My best friend from LA has started a blog. Well, one post does not a blog make, but she is moving in that direction. Let me tell you about my Tree. When I met her, she was a part-time stand up comic is an awkward relationship with an asshole actor/comic. He was married, she lived with her mother, ya know Hollywood. I was recently single, working at a Malibu rehab and running away from my dysfunctional apartment. We met for coffee in Venice after following each others myspace accounts. I thought she was dressed a bit slutty(I was right), she thought I could stand to lose a few pounds(she was right), we smoked and drank coffee and were soon inseparable.
This did not amuse my roomate at the time who was fairly jealous of her. Anywhoo, over the next year or 2, tree-pea got a job, moved out of the rents house, got another job, dated a couple of winners, a couple of losers, I lost weight, got my own place, dated a couple of winners, a couple of losers. Tree loved me, hated my dog. I loved tree, also hated my dog, but felt guilt for it and pretended that she was being rude.
Tree is now in a stable relationship, in college, drives a vespa and is still the funniest girl I have ever met. I have more stories of good times with her than I can recount, so I think I will start writing them every so often just for shits and giggles.
5 Facts about Tree:
She is a South American by birth.
She can charm anyone, anytime, anyplace.
When she is drunk, she always tries to get me to kiss her.
She is going to be a teacher (those boys are going to crap, a teacher who was once in FHM magazine?)
I miss her desperately, she is irreplacable.

i hate to cry

(Here is your daily Eloise.)
no really, like spent 4 years refusing to see a romantic comedy, any episodes of ER, or anything on TLC, kind of hate. The kind of hate that would drive a girl to disallow any and all music except Ani DiFranco (the angry years) and Fiona Apple. This string of overtly hostile years was finally crushed out of existence upon becoming pregnant. No longer could I avoid cry triggers, because the front porch could bring it on. I share this so that anyone who was not present during those years will understand how ridiculous it is that I keep watching the trailer for "My Sisters Keeper". I watch, I cry, I try to stay away, but it is almost as addictive as the trailer for "Funny People".
also of note, I hereby declare fresh ground honey roasted peanut butter from market street a trigger food. It is like the vodka* of peanut butters. I can no longer have it in my house.

*vodka was my beverage of choice back in the days of poor choices.

Lore

This is my stunning niece.  She was the inspiration for our kiddo.  Actually, I think she was the inspiration for my marriage.  When Paul and I were fairly early on in our relationship she was born.  We went on a road trip to Arkansas, where her father was finishing Law School.  Paul was nervous about it on the way up.  He was so concerned that people would think he was weird to want to kiss on a kid that wasn't his.  After several assurances that our family thinks nothing is weirder than a person who can keep their hands OFF a baby, he decided that it would be best if he took pictures of her and left the holding to us.  

That didn't work out so well.  He could not help himself.  She was head over heels in love.  I mean he LIKED me, but he LOVED her.  and I loved him lovin her! (at this moment I am spouting foul language at said husband for moving picture files all over the f(*&ing internet and leaving NO TRAIL as to how to find them.  He falls in love with a new site and poof, leaves all old pics on the old one and starts using the new one. )  I digress.  Anyway, as I encourage him to find those pictures for me to share with my vast readership of like 2 people (I love you guys, really) I will leave you with another picture of Eloise.

Easter Sunday, how f%#@ing cute is she!!!??!?!?!

Best Movie I've seen all year

The winner of the academy award for best foreign film.  Japanese movie, Departures.  Some may say I am biased towards Japanese movies, well, you are right, but authentically, this is the best movie I have seen in a LONG time.  It is moving and gorgeous and well acted with a beautiful soundtrack.  I will probably be raving about this one for awhile.

In other news, Eloise's future husband invited us to his birthday party.  No seriously, I could really dig having his parents as in-laws.  I am thrilled.  

Eloise has taken to sucking on my arm and hand, it is cute and a relief for my nipples, but the hickeys are unsightly to say the least. 

That is all.

Skinny kate, blog Stalking, friend finding and fertility

1. This is why I am back on the workout wagon.  An old co-worker emailed me a link to this pic from a conference I was attending in San Antonio right after I met my husband.  Not quite the svelte chick I was then.  My boobs actually look like a normal persons!  I have 20lbs and several cups sizes on that girl.   

2. I actually got an email back for the cool aussie mormon artist chick.  I wish I had the balls to wear dreads, I mean how cool is that?   I went to the blog from which I found her and saw that there were links to other blogs and may I just say, I think the OC must put something in the water to make it rain chicks I wish I could hang out with.  

3. I was complaining about my lack of buds the other day and ran into Kary who is somewhat of a hero to me.  She is cool, nice, funny and laid back, but never boring.  I then stroller Elle past one of the cooler houses in our neighborhood and some women were sitting on the porch drinking beer and chatting while about 8 kids played in the yard.  One of the women asked how old Eloise was and we started talking.  They invited me to a historic district play group.  This sounds like a blast.  The question to ponder then is, when they offer me a beer for the 4th time do I tell them I am a mormon or a recovering alcoholic?  Both seems like overkill right?  Which one is less likely to alienate me?  And do I give a hoot?

4. Weird things are happening in my families private regions.  The littlest sister has remnants of maleness, fibroids, and poly cystic ovarian syndrome on one of her fallopian tubes.  She has a 3 year old and has been trying to get pregnant again for awhile now.  The middle sister is on her latest round of hormone injections and sonograms in hopes of conceiving soon as well.  IVF is the next option.  My mother joked for a year that we would all get pregnant at the same time and have 3 boys.  If LS needs a laproscopy and MS needs IVF, mom could be right about the 3 pregnant drake girls, God help the men during the holidays if that is the case.

The Cooter Diaries

I went to see the midwife that delivered Eloise today.  She was amazed at how big Elle has gotten.  Interesting encounter:

Me: soooo, are things dropping or....

Aliza: everything looks fine...

Me: ok, uh..

Aliza: are you doing your kegels?

Me: not so much

Aliza: squeeze my fingers, ok

           that's good, just do more kegels

All I could think was "Pull my finger"  The visual was astounding.  

Awkward turtle

Things with which I am currently enamoured:

1. These 2 LDS chick bloggers.  2nd sister sauviloquy and embers , respectively.  Seriously, where are the women like this in Texas?  

2. Mothering Magazine, even my mother looks at me cross-eyed about the co-sleeping thing, and the woman marched against nuclear armament with me in utero!

3. Chess With Friends on the IPhone, I know, I know, shameless plug, but since my husband is the only person who reads this sad excuse for a blog, I had to mention the game he created.

4. The trailer for Funny People.  I may have watched it 15 times.  The stage that Adam Sandler is doing stand up on in the beginning is at the improv on Melrose where I spent a considerable amount of time while drifting in LA for a couple of years. 

5.  Eloise, could she be any cuter?  

6. Carol Lynn Pearson.  Consider the Butterfly is still one of the best books available in Mormland.

7. MGMT's Electric Eel, the song keeps getting stuck in my head.  It seems to require of me a jog.  

The last time I taught RS, I left early and got drunk

Ok, that was 10 years ago, but still.  I am amazed at the distance between then and now.  

Then: I was 20 and teetering on the edge of becoming inactive.  I had just moved to SLC and was called to teach RS having only been to RS in that ward once.  I taught my lesson, and knowing NO ONE in the ward I left with the resolve to just get as far away from that building as possible.  I had yet to become a full fledged alcoholic, but I was on my way.

Today: I was able to be real and vulnerable, teach a fantastic lesson, starting with, "So, Joseph Smith was a peacenik!"  I was able to express my disagreement with Prop 8 and my respect for the leaders of our church and their council at the same time.  There are some of the coolest chicks in this ward.  

I have only one complaint, several of the women I would love to hang out with, that are my age, are in a totally different life situation than I am.  I am 30 with a 10 month old.  They are 30-36 with like 4 or 5 kids!!!  No way they have time for any friends whose kids don't entertain their kids.  It's a damn good thing I have my sister.  

We went to Sushi Sake last night for date night. I miss Japan. I also miss coffee, and occasionally cigarettes, but it has been 3 1/2 years and my mother assures me that soon I will not even think of them.  

I told you

See, I told you, I really suck at this.  Usually upon making a new goal, I follow it for at least a day or two before abandoning the idea altogether.  I couldn't even make it a day.  It is cloudy in Tx today.  While my porch is all but finished, I am in the process of paint my porch swing(valentines day present) a shiny black before begging P to take a wee bit of time off to hang it up.  

In other news, I was called to teach RS.  I am sure this is a good thing, for I have been known to skip SS in favor of a lil sabbath breaking 7-11 run and sashay into 3rd hour at a quarter past.  This should nip THAT in the bud, at least every third sunday.  

OOOOO, my sister just arrived from  trip to Seattle.  

Officially, I suck at blogging

IMG_0296
Originally uploaded by paulbettner

unofficially, however, I am just a deeply misunderstood albeit creative, inquisitive, crafty blogger who writes in her head daily but is such a severe procrastinator that she can't seem to commit to screen. New goal. Blog daily, even if it amounts to verbal drivel. In the mean time, here is a puppy.