tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71456787391017532892024-01-08T15:48:14.221-05:00My Life is a SitcomKatiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337528172089450582noreply@blogger.comBlogger123125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145678739101753289.post-19188427046516811562018-11-07T23:31:00.000-05:002018-11-08T10:08:15.199-05:00The One About Pee (And a Few Other Things)Let me tell you a story about last Monday.<br />
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I picked the kids up from the sitter and start getting them into the car after chatting a little longer than I should have. As I am about to buckle Ellison into his car seat, I notice that he is really wet. The sitter had just changed him when I walked in, so it took me a second to realize what happened. Only one side of his diaper was fastened, and this resulted in pee getting everywhere. Okay, not fun, but that's part of parenting. Let's move on.</div>
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I am buckling Paisley into her seat and I smell urine. I thought it was just Ellison until I went for the middle buckle and she was damp. "Paisley, did you have an accident?"</div>
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"No Mom, I just peed on purpose".Yeah. Awesome. Come to find out she peed outside because that's what boys do. But she missed. Like a lot. That was an interesting conversation to have on the way home. </div>
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I walk into the house and discover Hattie missed the puppy pad we had down for her. Monday is the one day a week we have to leave her for 6 plus hours and most of the time this is not an issue. However, this time she had to go and happened to miss. And not like the puddle was next to the pad kind of missed. No, it was just on the edge, so everything went under the pad. Thus resulting in even more pee for me to clean up. </div>
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You would think that would be the end of pee, right? Well, I thought so too. I was wrong. Ellison ended up peeing all over himself when I changed his diaper. Cause really, what is more pee this evening? As I am cleaning him up, my pajama pants get stuck on the edge of the changing table causing a nine-inch rip down the seem. Remember this detail for later, I wish I had</div>
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We manage to limp through until bath time with only one more pee incident (yes, there was even more pee). As I am about to get Ellison out of the tub I hear "BEEEEEEP". At first, I thought it was the smoke detector. But it wasn't. Three obnoxiously loud beeps later, I realize it is the Carbon Monoxide detector. I check it to see if it just needs new batteries, but both the "move to fresh air" and the "operation" light are blinking. So I really have no idea what the hell is going on.</div>
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I panic for a second to think to about how to handle the logistics of dealing with this with two kids ready for bed. After turning off the heat and opening the windows, I put Ellison to bed and call Dean. Cause he can totally fix this while he is at work -duh. He tells me to call the Landlord, who says he will come to check things out. After looking at it, he thinks it may just be a faulty detector, but would like to call the fire department to be sure (which is probably really smart). The fire marshal comes over with his handy dandy meter thingy and gives us the all clear. </div>
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You know how I told you to remember that tiny detail about my pants? Well, it wasn't until after everyone left, and I tucked Paisley back into bed that I noticed I never changed my pants. My landlord and the fire marshal saw my batman panties and a good six inches of skin. </div>
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As if all of that wasn't enough. My evening decided to flip me a proverbial middle finger when I opened the dishwasher and the handle fell off. </div>
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Screw you too, evening! </div>
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THE END</div>
Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337528172089450582noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145678739101753289.post-3217864168613415242017-02-06T13:23:00.000-05:002017-02-06T13:23:17.712-05:00My Series of Unfortunate EventsThey say bad things come in threes. I hope that is true, cause that would mean I am done with bad luck for while.<br />
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To start of the week I had a small mix up with an icy hot stick and my deodorant. Pain. Lots and lots of pain. <br />
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Me and my icy pits decided to start working on our taxes. I was thinking that this would finally be the year we get a decent return and not owe any silly fines from a <a href="http://dontcallmekate.blogspot.com/2015/11/dont-keep-calm-for-24-hours-then-carry.html">six year old mistake</a>. I entered all the info from my current job and saw our predicted refund amount was almost enough to pay off our biggest debt. I was ecstatic! I hadn't added Dean's yet info yet, but assumed he claimed the same as me. So, logically it was only going to go up even more. I kept dreaming of all the debt we could pay off and how much we could save towards a house (yes, I realize how adult that sounds). This high lasted until the next day when Dean handed me his W2. I looked and noticed that he had paid less than a grand in federal taxes all year. My heart sank as I nervously punched the numbers into Turbo Tax. My hopes and dreams of a debt free life vanished as I watched our expected return drop about seven-thousand dollars. Turns out, Dean somehow thought claiming 5 was the right thing to do. At least we didn't end up owing. Maybe next year we will actually be able to pay something off. <br />
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Later that week I managed to slice part of my finger off while using a mandolin in the kitchen. It wasn't as bad as it could be, but it was bad enough that Dean had to call out of work to take care of me. After about an hour and a half of applying pressure it was still bleeding. At that point I called my friend who is an ED nurse and asked her if I should go to the hospital. We decided to wait another half hour. If it was still bleeding at that point, I would go to urgent care to have it cauterized. Thankfully, it stopped bleeding and I was fine. The most painful part of that entire experience was that I had just finished telling Dean how dangerous that thing is and to be very careful with it.<br />
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To top this all off, whatever nasty plague that has been circulating has hit the Gootee home fast and strong. I tried to go to work today and they sent me home. I've spent the whole weekend being sick and canceling plans. Paisley had croup last week and was the most miserable I have ever seen her. I know being sick isn't that bad in the grand scheme of things, but it really sucks when it forces you to miss two days of work. Dean brought me some Vicks vapor rub, but after the Icy-Hot incident, I am petrified of anything menthol.Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337528172089450582noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145678739101753289.post-17308121246569915372017-01-17T23:07:00.000-05:002017-01-17T23:07:15.484-05:00Nap Time NightmaresPaisley has decided that sleep is for chumps and she would much rather color all day than take a nap. I know I stopped taking a nap at a young age, but I was really hoping we could stretch it out with her. It would be fine if I could just put her in the crib and leave her for some quiet time. The problem is, when I do that, disaster strikes. It's happened more than once now. I put her down for a nap, she does not fall asleep, I go back in an hour and she has completely disrobed. There is poop all over her, her crib, her favorite blanket, and her doll. She must be related to Houdini some how, cause this girl can get out of any onesie, zippered pajamas, backward diaper combo there is. On Saturday it was so bad that I threw up. On her. Yes, I threw up on my child. I stared a savings account for all the therapy she will need when she gets older. <br />
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I had this brilliant idea that I would push her bedtime back by a half hour. I would make sure she is not sleeping in too late so she would nap in the afternoon. Well, that backfired. Not only did she not nap, she was over tired and grumpy all day. When bedtime finally came, I cried literal tears of joy.<br />
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I've reached that point in motherhood I've heard about, but never really gave it much thought. That part where I am desperate to have a conversation about anything but Daniel Tiger or work. The part where I can say I need a break and not feel guilty about it. I heard other mothers say these things but I guess I never fully listened cause it never crossed my mind until this week. let me just get this out there: I hear you all loud and clear now!<br />
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There may be some hope. Dean sent me this picture today. Of course, he could have just drugged her. I am not fully convinced this happened naturally.<br />
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<br />Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337528172089450582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145678739101753289.post-22958158689446658082016-10-10T00:34:00.000-04:002016-10-10T00:34:13.046-04:00I Cried During the Presidential DebateThis is slightly embarrassing to admit, but I cried while watching the debate tonight. Every four years people make the same complaints about having to choose "the lesser of two evils". This year is the same complaint, but much more serious. Say what you will about 3rd party nominees and write in votes. The fact of the matter is that either Donald Trump or Hillary Clinton will be the next President of the United States. That is why I cried.<br />
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I cannot stand Donald Trump. I can not put into words how much I dislike this man. I remember watching the very first episode of <i>The Apprentice</i> and thinking he was on a huge power trip. My opinion of him didn't change when he started his campaign. I cannot muster any respect for a man that speaks so poorly of other people. I don't really need to go on, you know what I am talking about.</div>
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So, does that make me "with her"? Well, you would think so. As far as political parties and standings are concerned, she is who I naturally gravitate to. (Disclaimer for my conservative evangelical friends: yes, I know she is pro-choice. I do not base my vote on one issue. And yes, I know you are worried about the second amendment, but this is not the time for that discussion). I have lost count of the number of times I have taken the <a href="https://www.isidewith.com/elections/2016-presidential-quiz">I Side With quiz</a>. I side with Hillary every time. But I do not want to vote for her. I keep trying to make excuses for her. "Well, every politician is sleazy or does questionable things in their career. At least she apologized. She went to trial and they didn't indict her" and "yeah, she did defend a rapist who ended up getting next to nothing. That just proves she is good at her job" I keep saying these things to make myself feel better. But it's not working anymore, that's why I cried.<br />
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This is the first election since I have become a mother. Maybe that is why character and integrity are so much more important to me. Or maybe it is just because I matured. It's probably a bit of both. Either way, it sure is making this a very difficult choice for me. </div>
Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337528172089450582noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145678739101753289.post-16172805998497801802016-10-02T16:11:00.003-04:002016-10-02T16:11:54.652-04:00Birthday, Lipstick, Farts, Barf and CornfieldsI promised <a href="http://michellesncheese.blogspot.com/2016/09/things-went-south-as-we-drove-north.html">Michelle</a> I would share this story this week. Hopefully it will help her feel better about her hellish road trip with her car sick daughter. <div>
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For my fourteenth birthday my mom brought me to the mall with my two best friends. We made the usual rounds to PacSun, Bath and Body Works, and Gadzooks before finishing up at Clair's with the very important purchase of a "Best Friends Forever" necklace set. We walked back to meet my mom in order of our necklace words (I was best of course) and stopped at a Mexican restaurant for dinner. I should have pick Italian. </div>
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All three of us sat in the back seat and sang along with the Backstreet Boys for most of the trip home. We were most of the way there when my friend started to complain her stomach hurt. Eventually, she let out a giant, loud, extremely smelly fart and felt better. I was stuck in the middle seat, furthest from the window. I was trapped. I've always had a week stomach. Eventually, the stench got the best of me and I vomited all over myself. I started crying as my mom pulled over, because who barfs on their birthday?! My friends were laughing so hard they had to pee in the cornfield we had parked next to. Someone wasn't paying attention on there way there and ended up stepping in some sort of poop, The rest of the ride home was rather stinky.</div>
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The following Monday I got dressed for school wearing my new pants from PacSun. It wasn't until after I got to school, that I noticed the reddish-brown lip stick I got somehow ended up all over the pack of my new pants in a very unfortunate spot. </div>
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For my fifteenth birthday, I stayed home. </div>
Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337528172089450582noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145678739101753289.post-46619498039733656142016-06-29T23:09:00.000-04:002016-06-29T23:09:10.680-04:00I don't Have to Like It All to Love It <br />
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A few days ago I stumbled across this photo in my TimeHop app. The caption I posted was "So this is how we are napping today...so much for a productive Saturday". Paisley was all of 3 months old and I had been back to working 40 hours a week for a month. I was the emotional equivalent of a jack-in-the-box, and the stress of balancing work life and mom life was getting to me. I didn't have to read the comments this time, I remembered them. I remembered the guilt just as well.<br />
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Each "time passes so quickly", "you won't miss dirty dishes in 20 years", and "this is the most productive thing you can do" seemed like a twist of the knife. I "liked" the comments because I knew they meant well, but in all truthfulness, I hated them. I wasn't putting the cleanliness of my house at a higher priority than my daughter, yet I felt that people thought I was. I just wanted to do some dishes so we had clean glasses to drink out of, maybe even get a shower if I was lucky. <br />
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Here is some truth for you: I do not enjoy all aspects of motherhood. Because not all moments of motherhood are full of warm fuzzies and rainbows. There are a lot of really crappy moments when it comes to parenting a child (I mean that both literally and figuratively).<br />
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Now, before you think I am a cold, heartless monster let me just say I believe motherhood is a wonderful gift. I wholeheartedly agree that the days are long, but the years are short. I am fully aware that there are plenty of women out there who would die to have a baby keeping them from house work (I was <a href="http://dontcallmekate.blogspot.com/2014/03/waiting-and-wanting.html">one of them</a>). Combine these feelings with a desire to get some work done and guilt sets in.<br />
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Something I have learned in my short time as a mother is that it is okay not to enjoy every moment. I don't have to enjoy sleepless nights, dirty diapers, or meltdowns when I leave her in the nursery. Quite frankly, those moments suck. However, it is part of the package deal, and I wouldn't trade that for the world. That package also includes the snuggles, the popsicle sharing, the crazy dancing, the coloring, the bath time giggles, and the way she says "uh-oh" after she passes gas in the grocery store. <br />
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So, I am enjoying motherhood, at least the parts that are important. And just because I would like my child to sleep in her crib instead of my arms doesn't mean I am not "soaking it in", it just means that I would like to wash some dishes (because I probably ran out of paper plates.)<br />
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<br />Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337528172089450582noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145678739101753289.post-108728122856790202016-06-20T22:07:00.001-04:002016-06-20T22:08:23.957-04:00The Time I Scared Dean With A Father's Day CardFather's Day has always been an odd holiday for me. When I found out that we would be having a girl, I was pretty excited to see the father daughter bond develop between Dean and Paisley that I was never able to really have. I am happy to say that they are think as thieves. Paisley is a Daddy's girl through and through. So naturally, I wanted to make his Father's days as special as I could. <br />
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I went to our local game store and picked a Magic Card (yes, he is a hard core geek) that has been on his wish list for a while. Then I went over to Target to pick out some Father's Day cards while Paisley tested her lung compacity and my patience. Dean's was the easiest to select, a cute googly- eyed daddy monster being chased. It said something along the lines of not being able to escape his little monster. <br />
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Father's day morning arrived much earlier than I would have liked. Paisley has decided that 6 am is her new happy hour. I straggled my way into the kitchen, muttered "happy birthday - I mean Father's day" to Dean and handed him my carefully selected card. His reaction was not at all what I was expecting. He read the card and just stood there with this puzzled look on his face. Then he said "So... umm... what does this mean?". Now I was confused, "What?! What do you mean - it means Happy Father's Day, what don't you get?". Well, apparently, I picked out a card that was meant to be from more than one child. Dean thought I was trying to tell him I was pregnant. (I am not - let's not start rumors). Once we cleared up that little misunderstanding we had a great day involving the playground and Pho. <br />
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And just in case I haven't made myself clear - we are not having another baby any time soon. <br />
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<br />Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337528172089450582noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145678739101753289.post-60097252984821976222016-06-12T22:48:00.001-04:002016-06-13T08:28:04.096-04:00When A Weeks Feels Like A Month As you can see, I finally settled on a blog title. "Don't Call Me Kate" wasn't horrible, but it just felt very juvenile to me. Not to mention, I am pretty much over my distaste for people calling me Kate. (As long as you know me well. If I met you 5 min ago and you call me Kate I will dislike you.) At one point this week, I found myself uttering the words "My Life's a Sitcom" and I call it my light bulb moment. So here we are.<br />
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My crazy week started last Thursday when Paisley got a bit of a fever. I wasn't overly concerned until Friday night when instead of sleeping she would just cry in pain. So, we took her to the walk in hours at the doctors on Saturday morning where she tested positive for Strep. We had to skip a birthday party we were invited to and spend the weekend locked indoors with a cranky kid. </div>
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Monday morning I discovered that Paisley has inherited her dad's Penicillin allergy. I brought her back to the doctors office and freaked out about Scarlet Fever just to be told that it really was an allergy and my kid is not dying even if it sounds like it. Monday also happens to be the one day a week that we need a sitter. Our Sitter is an ED nurse. So I know she can completely handle a sick kid. Paisley had pretty much the worse meltdown of her life when I tried to leave. I am a genius and had to go back after I left and she settled because I left my wallet in the diaper bag. Of course this caused another meltdown. We paid the sitter a little extra that day.</div>
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Tuesday seemed to go as expected until the evening when I turned a little ghetto. Living in the city has a lot of advantages, but sometimes it's a problem. Like when there is some idiot screaming profanities outside your window at 11:30 pm and wakes you sick sleeping child. I won't go into a lot of details, but I was marching down the street after someone at midnight in my PJ's. Hell hath no fury like a mother with a woken child. Or something like that.</div>
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We made it through Wednesday and Thursday with only a head knocking incident ( I was convinced she had a concussion, but apparently I overreact). Friday came and I was feeling like I finally shook the week's curse. Paisley had her 15 month check up scheduled and I had to work. I no sooner get to the office and turn my computer on when Dean calls me. He had locked him self out and needed to bring Paisley to her appointment. Thankfully my office is less than 2 miles from home, so I was able to get home and back in a matter of minutes. As if that wasn't enough, Dean texts me about 20 minutes later to inform me that someone rear-ended him so hard that he hit the car in front of him. Every one and thing is fine. The Air bags didn't even deploy, so it wasn't serious. It was just one more slap in the face from this crazy week. </div>
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Bring it Monday. You've got nothing on me!</div>
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Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337528172089450582noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145678739101753289.post-83003860302996469312016-05-22T13:56:00.000-04:002016-06-12T01:00:19.503-04:00Currently 1.1<b>Loving. </b><br />
My new planner. I have seen a lot of the "Glamour Planner" stuff out there on Pintrest, and even built a beautiful planner set up on <a href="https://www.erincondren.com/">Erin Condren's website</a>. But, I just couldn't bring myself to drop $50 on a planner no matter how awesome it was. Then I discovered <a href="https://www.etsy.com/shop/PlumPaperDesigns?ref=l2-shopheader-name">PlumPaper</a>. Admittedly, $30 still seemed a bit steep to me, but after going back to work 5 days a week I realized I could use it. So I asked for it for my birthday. Then I found sticker shops on Etsy. A merge of my two favorite things - being organized and stationary? Count me in!<br />
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<b>Feeling. </b><br />
Completely warn out if I am being honest with you. I don't really know what changed, but this past week has been really hard for me to keep up with. I wake up just as tired as I did when I went to sleep. I am sure a better diet and a little exercise would help. I also have a ton of things going on (hence my need for a planner). After my this next week, my commitments will be spread out more, so I am hoping I can recoup a bit then.<br />
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<b>Eating. </b><br />
A bunch of junk. Which I am sure is responsible for my lack of energy. It really is time for an overhaul with my diet. I am just looking for budget friendly options that will not have me eating rice and beans everyday. Not that there is anything wrong with rice and beans. I just like a bit of variety in my diet is all.<br />
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<b>Listening to.</b><br />
Right now this very second - nothing. It is beautiful. I have some things to do, but I really want to sit here and enjoy the nothing for a while.<br />
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<b>Drinking. </b><br />
Coffee coffee and more coffee, Have I mentioned that I am tired?<br />
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<b>Smelling. </b><br />
The last of my Winter Candy Apple candle stash. I had an awesome coupon this past December and bought about 5 of the 3 wick candles from Bath and Body Works. I have a small obsession with Winter Candy Apple so I buy as much as I can around Christmas. Obviously I need to buy twice as much this year cause I only made it half way through the year.<br />
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<b>Reading.</b><br />
<i>Troublemaker: Surviving Hollywood and Scientology</i> by Leah Remini. I was a little hesitant to read another book about Scientology after finishing Jenna Miscavage's autobiography. However, this book is a lot easier to get through. I feel like Leah and I are BFFs now even though she has no clue who I am. I also have a completely different view of Tom Cruise. You should read it. <br />
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<b>Cooking. </b><br />
One batch of <a href="https://www.skinnymom.com/skinny-sour-cream-enchiladas/">Skinny Mom sour cream enchiladas </a>for a friend that just had a baby and spinach and tomato quesadillas with pesto for my family. Yum.Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337528172089450582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145678739101753289.post-53044018571616028662016-05-16T09:29:00.001-04:002016-05-16T09:29:35.146-04:00That Time I Accidentally Spent $50 on My Hair<div dir="ltr">
Anyone who knows me well knows that I am pretty frugal. I have a hard time spending more than $12 on a new outfit (including shoes). There are always exceptions to my penny pinching (I have recently fallen down the pretty planner rabbit hole for example), but for the most part I don't like opening up my wallet if I can help it. </div>
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With my hardcore frugality (which spell check is not correcting so frugality must be a real word), it comes to no surprise that I rarely go to get my haircut professionally. My sister-in-law is a hairdresser (and a pretty darn good one at that). So, I generally end up having her cut my hair every third visit or so. This would be great if she didn't live 5 hours away. With the current set up, I get my hair cut about once a year. This was fine before I had Paisley, but my postpartum hair is a wreck! </div>
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Last week I got sick of my frizzy, unmanageable lion's mane and decided to suck it up and pay for a hair cut. I decided to go to a local chain that advertises walk-in cuts for under $20. I walked in, put my name down for a cut and an eyebrow wax (it had been about a year since a wax too). The 12 year old looking hair dresser took me back, washed my hair, asked if I wanted conditioner, and got to work. She listened to everything I wanted and did a great job. When she was done she asked "would you like me to blow dry it for you?". "Yeah, sure" I answered thinking about the few stores I needed to stop in before I went home. It took her about 20 minutes to blow dry my hair, which seemed like a long time to me, but I was really enjoying the alone time, so I didn't question it.</div>
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I walked up to the counter thinking I actually looked good for once (if you didn't count the peanut butter Paisley affectionately left smeared on my shoulder). I was trying to decide if giving her the $40 cash I had would leave her with too big of a tip when I was interrupted with "your total comes to $53" I just kinda stood there for a second before handing her my debit card. I was too dumbfounded to question it. When I got back to my car I looked at the receipt. "The works" package includes a wash, cut, wax, and blow dry for $49 and condition was $4. Needless to say, I won't be going back there, even if I looked fabulous in the end.</div>
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Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337528172089450582noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145678739101753289.post-37430291799193870902016-05-04T10:15:00.002-04:002016-06-12T01:19:20.116-04:00The Working Mom PostOne year a go today I stuffed my postpartum body into some dress pants, changed my top three times because of spit up, kissed my tiny 2 month old goodbye, and went back to work a job I tolerated with people I loved. I made it through the day with surprising ease and at 4:30 (I really couldn't wait until 5) went home to snuggle my love again. Since that day I have worked full-time, part-time, and not at all. I have concluded that even if we were to win the Mega Millions tomorrow, I would still want to work. <br />
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I have learned many things about my self since I became a mom. One of those things is that I need to work for my sanity. When I was working full time I cherished my weekends. They were my time to get things done and hang out with Paisley. I wouldn't trade them for the world. I had my moments of course. There were a few times that I cried to Dean saying I missed my baby, but for the most part our weekly routine worked for us. Then I was <a href="http://dontcallmekate.blogspot.com/2015/11/dont-keep-calm-for-24-hours-then-carry.html">laid off</a>. At the time, Paisley was 7 months old. I was thrilled to have more time to spend with her. I also used the time to get a lot of things done around the house. I was loving my time home, but we just weren't making ends meet. <br />
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When I went back to work part time it was the perfect balance! I had time with Paisley, my house was still clean, I didn't have to buy groceries on a Saturday, and I was bring in enough income to make ends meet. Then I was <a href="http://dontcallmekate.blogspot.com/2016/04/vocational-update.html">laid off again</a>. I thought I would enjoy my time off as much as I did the first time, but that was not the case. To be frank, I was bored. I did what needed to be done, and I enjoyed my time with Paisley, but I needed more structure. I blew through about 6 seasons of Gray's Anatomy on Netflix in just a few weeks. I needed to work again. <br />
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So, that's what I did. Granted it is part time, but that is perfect for us. I love the balance it brings to my life. I love that each day brings something a little bit different. I love the structure that is created by a weekly routine. I love that I have a reason to wear cute clothes and get out of yoga pants more than twice a week. I love that Paisley will grow up seeing the benefits of hard work. I love that working part time forces me to focus on the quality of our time together instead accepting the quantity. Working actually makes me a better mom. <br />
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I understand this is not for everyone. I will admit that I still have my moments where I feel like I am missing out. I occasionally still get the "it's so sad you have to leave her" comments. I do my best to brush them off, but I would be lying if I said they didn't sting. I get sad when Dean tells me how cute she was at Story Time or hear her cry when I leave. I know that staying home would have equally hard moments because that is what parenting is. So, I take them in stride. Maybe down the road things will change, but for now, this works for us. Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337528172089450582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145678739101753289.post-67832386564512137392016-04-27T21:34:00.003-04:002016-04-27T23:34:49.668-04:00Vocational Update<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
I never really followed up about the whole job situation since my <a href="http://dontcallmekate.blogspot.com/2015/11/dont-keep-calm-for-24-hours-then-carry.html">post</a> in November. About a month after my post, my previous supervisor called me up and offered me a part time position doing some HR and recruiting stuff. I was hesitant about working for the same company after everything they pulled, but I figured "hey, it's a job", so I took it. My second day back I was informed that they sold the company and that the office would be closing some time near the spring, but that this time they would be offering severance packages (if you call 2 weeks pay a severance package). Yes, I know, this seems like a plot line in a sitcom, but it really happened to me. For the next 6 weeks the story changed consistently. From "Oh we are keeping the office open" to "well we are only keeping 2 people". I never really knew one day to the next if I was going to have a job the following week. Finally I had enough and point blank said "I need to know when I am done". They gave me 2 more weeks and then asked if I could be available Per Diem if they get in over their head. I laughed and said no. </div>
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When I finally walked out of there for good I felt so relived. I promised myself that I would be very picky about my next employer. I was ready to find the place I could call "home". I wanted to be able to say "well, I worked here for 30 years and figured it was time to retire". With some guidelines in mind, I hit the job market strong. I went on about 7 job interviews in a 3 week period. I had a few offers that I turned down because they didn't meet my guidelines, one fall through, and some that just didn't pan out.</div>
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In mid March I found myself in a difficult position. I had a guaranteed offer from an organization (a nursing home) that is less than 3 miles from my house and a potential offer from a local university in Rochester with a ton of benefits. After a stressful weekend, I chose to take the guaranteed position near to my home because the university took to long to get back to me. </div>
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At the time, I was a little disappointed that the university job didn't work out. I was really drooling over all of the benefits it could offer. However, after being in my job for all of three weeks, I can say that this is the best possible place for me. The people in my department are wonderful. The majority of employees love their jobs. My supervisor is the most genuine, efficient, and compassionate boss I have ever had. We have fun. Plus, I get to bring Paisley in to visit some of the elders that adore her as much as I do. I never thought I would feel this way, but I am so thankful I was laid off. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Oh, they also give me cupcakes for Administrative Professionals Day. So really, what more could I ask for?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>
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Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337528172089450582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145678739101753289.post-77837059918788601082016-04-24T18:38:00.001-04:002016-04-24T18:38:37.859-04:00Currently 1.0<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<b>Loving</b> - Etsy. I have purchased items from Etsy in the past, but I have just recently discovered how wonderful it really is. I have gotten a lot of cute things on the cheap (including this fancy to blog design) from Etsy.<br />
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<b>Feeling</b> - Like I'm in a change of seasons. Technically spring time <i>is</i> a change of seasons, and maybe that has influenced my emotions. I started a new job, I'm learning a lot about myself, and over all I am ready to change some things in life. I want to be more intentional with the things I do and how I do them.<br />
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<b>Listening to</b> - The Giggle Bellies. It's a station on Roku that has super cheesy music videos for kids. Paisley LOVES it. She points, claps, yells, and dances when it is on. I don't put it on very often cause there is only so much annoying music I can stand. Also, people look at me funny when I start singing "I'm a space girl, yeah, it's what I am, I know aliens yeah they are my friends..." while waiting for the elevator at work.<br />
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<b>Drinking</b> - I've hopped on the protein shake band wagon. My work schedule is odd and because of that I don't have the chance to eat lunch at a normal time, so protein shake it is. I don't do Shakeology though. Mostly because I am anti MLM business that force you to spam your friends via social media. Not to mention it's crazy expensive! I found a brand at Walmart (of all places), that works great and is affordable.<br />
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<b>Smelling</b> - Paisley's bubble bath. I love evenings that Dean takes over bath time. Especially when I am completely spent after a cranky day.<br />
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<b>Reading</b> - <i>I am Malala </i>Well, technically I am listening to it. Can I say I have read a book if I listened to the Audio version? Some times I feel like its a cop out and other times I feel like its a great solution to my lack of time. What do you think?<br />
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Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337528172089450582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145678739101753289.post-49009572339327235582016-03-24T12:09:00.000-04:002016-03-24T12:09:02.974-04:00A Year of LastsPaisley's first birthday was three weeks ago. Oddly enough, I was not an emotional wreck until just the past couple days. A few friends of mine have recently had babies, and my social media feeds are blowing up with newborn photos. I can't help but remember how tiny Paisley was and how quickly her first year went. This admittedly has given me a little bit of baby fever. (Disclaimer: we are no where ready for Gootlet #2 yet - calm down!) <br />
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For whatever reason, when I look back at her first year of life, I don't think of all her "firsts". Like her first tooth, or her first time in a big girl car seat, or the first time she ate solid foods. Instead, I think of all of her "lasts" and how I really didn't even know they were her lasts. There was the last time I nursed her to sleep, the last time she got a bath in the sink, the last time she sat in her Bumbo chair, and a million more I could list. Then I think of all the "lasts" she has coming up in her life. The last time she sleeps in her crib, the last time she drinks from a sippy cup, her last day crawling vs walking, ect. I know the time will come when she doesn't cry at all during the day (yes, I know that is a long way away), and eventually the day will come where she doesn't want to sit in my lap and cuddle while reading "Peek-A-Who"</div>
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While I think of all her lasts, of course I am reminded of all the cheesy cherish-every-moment-cause-they-are-only-little-for-so-long-time-flies blog posts there are roughly 1,685,716,987 of. Which then gives me a bit of reassurance about my job situation. After a bit of an up and down roller coaster of employment and job offers, I am now working part time. It is a good compromise, and I am happy. And to be honest, happiness trumps all in the end. </div>
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Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337528172089450582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145678739101753289.post-1847376185848285052015-12-23T23:26:00.002-05:002015-12-23T23:26:38.720-05:00The Thrill of Hope<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I have never been one of those people that goes crazy over the Holiday season. I didn't see Elf until 3 years ago. There was a 9 year stretch where I didn't even put up a tree in my apartment. I was a self proclaimed Scrooge and rather proud of it. I blamed it on working too many years in retail, but if I am being honest, my distaste for Christmas started long before I filled out my first I-9. <br />
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When you are a kid, Thanksgiving to New Year is full of magical expectation. The air seems heavy with excitement and happiness. Nothing could go wrong because it was Christmas time. Then, you grow up and you realize that those expectations are never fully met (at least for me they weren't). I'm not talking about material expectations. It's more that you realize there is still pain in the world even though the calendar reads December 25. That realization came much earlier for me than most. My grandfather passed away when I was 8 years old. It was just me and my mom after that. We would exchange a few gifts in the morning and go to a friends house if we were invited. There were no traditions, no excitement, It seemed like any other day to me for the longest time. <br />
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Then, 18 years later, I married Dean. He reads Charles Dickens's <i>A Christmas Carol </i>every year. His family has 3 days of Christmas celebrations starting Christmas Eve. Our first Christmas as a married couple he insisted on going to Hobby Lobby and purchasing an exorbitant amount of Christmas decorations. Slowly, my tiny Grinch heart started to grow and I hated Christmas less and less. <br />
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Than this Christmas came. Having a baby makes a lot of things different. I knew this Christmas would be different, I just expected a different kind of different. I expected that I would want to be into Christmas <i>for</i> Paisley. I expected I would spoil her with millions of toys and clothes, but that is not what happened. In fact, I didn't even wrap one of her 4 gifts. What was different was my understanding of Christmas. What I didn't understand when I was 8, or 18, or even 26 was all the times I was let down by unmet expectations I was missing the point. Christmas isn't about meeting expectations. It's about the thrill of hope that allows weary hearts to rejoice over the birth of our savior. This world may be broken and scary right now. There may not seem like there is much to rejoice over. But I believe that is not going to last. This world is not my home, as the old lady in the wooden church pew used to say.Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337528172089450582noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145678739101753289.post-84309429213821012682015-11-19T12:55:00.001-05:002015-11-19T12:55:52.093-05:00Don't keep calm for 24 hours, then carry on.I am not a fan of those "Keep Calm and (insert something funny here)" graphics. Besides the fact that they are completely over used, they don't offer practical advise. Every once in a while, you just need to freak the hell out. It's healthy. I have this rule about times of crisis. You have a 24 hour period to freak out, cry, throw a fit, hyperventilate, whatever you need to do. After those 24 hours have past, it's time to pick yourself up, dust off the pains of yesterday and find a way to fix it. Yesterday was my 24 hour freak out.<br />
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First, let me give you a little background on my life since I last blogged (yes, I am ignoring the fact that it has been over a year). My sweet Paisley Jeanne was born on March 4, 2015 at 9:46 am. She was my 6 pound, 5oz bundle of love I have been waiting for my entire life. The first few weeks that I was home with her I cried thinking about having to leave her to go to work. I really wasn't happy about it. However, two months past, my maternity leave was up, and I didn't have much of a choice. It took a few weeks of adjustment and one trip to the bathroom to cry, but eventually I did fall back into the groove of things. I missed her, but I genuinely enjoyed my job and frankly, we needed the income. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Paisley 2 weeks old</td></tr>
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Fast-forward to October. Our little family of three has settled into a nice weekly routine. Paisley only needs a sitter twice a week and we just so happened to have family near by that adores her and begs to see her. My weekends are hectic but over all life is good. Then my company announces that they have filed for chapter 11 bankruptcy and closed close to half of their clinics. It was no surprise to me really. I worked in the finance department and saw that the company was bleeding money. There had already been some downsizing. I thought I was safe. If anything I would have my hours cut and that just meant more time with Paisley. Well, the following day a company wide email went out explaining who is responsible for what with all of the changes taking place. I looked at and saw my responsibilities, but not my name, Long story short, that is how I found out I was laid off. <div>
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I went home angry that day. Not because I had lost my job, but because they didn't have the decency to tell me before a company wide email went out. They offered me two more weeks to tie up loose ends and finish a project I was working on. I took it because I didn't want to burn bridges. I got a kick ass letter of recommendation from our CEO and left on good terms. </div>
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My plan was to collect unemployment and enjoy Paisley's first holiday season (starting with Halloween) and find a part time job in January that pays me what I'm worth (there were/are receptionists making more money than I was as a project manager). And that's what I did for the first 3 weeks.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The cutest little monster there was!</td></tr>
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I was happy, I had my days with Paisley. I was cooking and cleaning and getting projects done. I thought "hey, I will have time to blog again!". Then, yesterday happened. Yesterday I realized I hadn't received my first unemployment payment yet, so I went online to see what the hold up was. Come to find out I owed a massive fine for over payment of unemployment benefits from 6 years ago. 6 years ago I was laid off from a job and when I found a new one it didn't pay as much ($4 per hour less to be exact). I was under the impression that I could collect partial benefits because of the difference. Well, I was wrong. So now, 6 years later, I do not get any payments until my over payments and fines are paid off. Basically what that means is we now have to live off of Dean's wages alone. Honestly, that's not a lot. </div>
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So, I completely panicked. I was hyperventilating and Dean had to find me a paper bag. I cried, threw a fit and freaked out. Then I made a plan. I spent my whole day on the computer yesterday. I applied for a total of 5 jobs, applied for food stamps (not happy about it but thankful it is there), WIC, and HEAP (to help pay our heating bill). We have enough in our savings account to cover rent through February which just so happens to be when I can start getting actual payments again. I also plan on filing taxes as soon as possible so that we get the refund sooner than May. </div>
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And now, here I sit in old dirty Pjs that I have been in for over 24 hours, on a floor covered in toys and dog hair, sporting a 3 day old pony tail that my baby keeps pulling, and just now having coffee for the first time in two days. (why did I do that to myself?) Is this what I expected life to be like for me right now? Not at all. I never thought I would need welfare benefits, or that I would have to skip out on some Christmas presents for my family to make ends meet. However, I am still blessed. My home is still standing, my city wasn't bombed, I don't have to travel the world with only the things I can carry to feel just a tiny bit safer than I did before. Life my be rough right now, but at least it is just first world problem rough and for that I am thankful.</div>
Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337528172089450582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145678739101753289.post-26530900527328667642014-10-08T20:28:00.000-04:002014-10-08T20:43:33.316-04:004 Down 5 to go <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I always thought that I would be one of those women who would post weekly, with pictures of me displaying my belly and a chalk board sign comparing my child to some type of random produce. But I haven't. In fact, this is the first time I have written anything since our announcement. The only photo I have taken is this bathroom selfie at work two weeks ago. </div>
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The reason for my silence is actually two fold. First of all I have been incredibly ill. What do I have in common with Kate Middelton? <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hyperemesis_gravidarum">Hypermesis gravidarum</a>. Basically my morning sickness is so severe that it is causing some medical complications. In 16 weeks I have lost 18 pounds (but annoyingly my pants still don't fit), I have needed to get IV fluids twice, and I have basically been miserable. According to ultrasounds and routine screenings, the baby is growing and developing just fine. I guess it was a good thing that I was fat before I got pregnant or things would be really bad. I have still been working as much as I can. I am so thankful I have such an understanding employer who allows my schedule to be flexible. My main focus has been keeping my dinner down, and finding ways to make my nightly shots less painful. <br />
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The second, and slightly more serious reason these pages haven't been spilling over with cheesy update posts is because I have had a lot of anxiety. To be frank, I am scared to death. I'm worried that we may have jumped the gun and started fertility treatments too soon. I'm worried that our finical situation isn't as solid as it should be, that we don't have a proper home to bring a baby into, that being a working mom will be more emotionally tolling that I can handle. I am scared that I will have sever postpartum depression and that motherhood in general will be more difficult that I expect. Then, once I have thoroughly freaked myself out, I feel incredibly guilty. I wanted this baby more than anything. I am the one that has always been so good with children and had a "mother's heart". I was the one who suggested we do fertility treatments. So shouldn't I be more excited than scared?<br />
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After talking with a few of my friends I realized these feeling are completely normal and I am not really going crazy (so they say). Pregnancy isn't always glamorous, in fact for a lot of people it down right sucks! So, if these freak outs and emotional breakdowns are normal, why doesn't any one talk about them? I have been so hesitant to share these feelings with people because I didn't want to come across as ungrateful. I was shocked when our fertility treatments finally worked. I seriously thought that we would have to go for more invasive procedures and it would take much longer to get pergnant. So when two lines showed up on that pregnancy test I was happy yes, but I was shocked at the same time. <br />
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So that is basically what my first trimester was like. Between vomiting multiple times a day and regular emotional breakdowns, you can understand why I haven't been quick to document every detail. I am starting to feel better, both physically and emotionally. I am so thrilled to become a mother. I really do believe that it is a role I was born for. There are so many women who become mothers in much more difficult situations (my mother being one of them) and they turn out fine. If they can do this, so can I. I believe this will be the most rewarding challenge of my life. I can't wait to hold my little blonde love bug in just 5 more months.<br />
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<br />Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337528172089450582noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145678739101753289.post-19540683523456299502014-09-10T20:27:00.001-04:002014-09-12T15:40:08.156-04:00What comes next?<div style="text-align: center;">
I will give more details in a later post but for now ......</div>
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..... I just want to let you know that, after a lot of blood sweat and tears, our fertility treatments finally worked! Our little Gootlet will be here March 2015! </div>
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Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337528172089450582noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145678739101753289.post-26383807913970720742014-06-25T18:04:00.000-04:002014-06-26T13:09:47.728-04:00Updates and a storyYes, I realize I haven't graced you with my presence since April. I should be sorry, but I am really too lazy to be. So, instead of saying "oh, life has been super busy", or "I was in a blogging rut", or my personal favorite "I was busy enjoying life!" I'm just going to say I'm sorry if you missed me. <br />
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So with that being said, here are a few things that have happen since April.<br />
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1. We got a second dog. Her name is Hattie and she is the sweetest thing ever!<br />
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2. Dean's family has been having a tough break. First his uncle was in a freak tree trimming accident and had to be life frighted to the nearest trauma center (same hospital that Tracy Morgan is in by the way). During this time Dean's grandfather was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer and passed away shortly after. His uncle never had a chance to say goodbye, that was hard to watch. <br />
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3. I became an auntie! My sister-in-law gave birth to her first child at 12:01 this morning. A little girl they named Abrienne Jael. <br />
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4. I am still not pregnant after even more aggressive treatments. I am trying not to lose hope, but to be honest, I am starting to get very depressed. Life just doesn't seem fair to me at times. Which brings me to my story:<br />
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About a week or so ago, I was at work and decided I needed a coffee break. So I went to the Dunkin' Donuts that is about a mile from my office building. I walk in and notice a small child, about 2 or 3 years old at the most sitting on the counter with his (her? I honestly couldn't tell) mother standing there. He was filthy, in pj's, and shoe-less. When his mother asked him what he wanted he said "coffee coolata and sprinkle donut!" So, mom ordered it for him. I was appalled. Here it is 3 o'clock in the afternoon, your child is not dressed, shoe-less, in desperate need of a bath, and you just gave him caffeine AND enough sugar to feed ten ant farms! What are you thinking?! And I am the one who can't get pregnant?! Please explain to me how natural selection works again? I think Darwin was wrong. Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337528172089450582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145678739101753289.post-26084454117884114042014-04-03T23:46:00.001-04:002014-04-03T23:46:35.432-04:00My mother would call it stubbornIn the past year or so, I have to come to the realization that I'm a strong person. I don't mean physically strong-I need Dean to open my salad dressing. I mean emotionally strong. Various people have told me this throughout my life. Employers always told me I was committed, energetic and ambitious. To me that translated to "cool maybe I can ask for a raise" or "my mother always said I was stubborn." The real meaning never really struck me until recently. <div><br></div><div>In the midst of a huge emotional breakdown earlier this evening, my husband said these words to me: "you're the most capable person that I know. If you really want something I've never seen you fail to attain it because you don't give up." Now most levelheaded women would melt at such a compliment. But, at the moment I wasn't a levelheaded woman. I blame the infertility drugs, lack of sleep, and general stress for my bad mood. But, he ment it sincerely. I am so thankful for his clarity when I am too emotional to think correctly. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMeBStoASsG1EBe7N_s3-VaIGTG4qhjzWfpbdAsNmODb1-KY1KL3qHmDZxIaQKB5ggT_ajAiiI9_m8-WQSWvmU8gZ48QQC6o9GC7ZmxF7B4gDcqKJEKZPOO75mguzH3iGazf2eL4qCB80/s640/blogger-image-1014410850.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMeBStoASsG1EBe7N_s3-VaIGTG4qhjzWfpbdAsNmODb1-KY1KL3qHmDZxIaQKB5ggT_ajAiiI9_m8-WQSWvmU8gZ48QQC6o9GC7ZmxF7B4gDcqKJEKZPOO75mguzH3iGazf2eL4qCB80/s640/blogger-image-1014410850.jpg"></a></div>This perfectly represents what Dean is to me. </div><div><br></div><div>My ambition is something that I sometimes really dislike about myself. Failure hurts no matter who you are. My try try again attitude often means more opportunities to fail. Sure, I'll pick myself up, bandage my wounds and go right back at it, but that process is so exhausting. There are days when I feel like I'm never going to succeed and I can't tell you how many times I've been longing to throw in the towel. Those are the days that I do nothing but lounge around in yoga pants eating cheese and binging on Netflix. Then, once I have fulfilled a successful pity party, I start over again. So, here's to new beginnings. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337528172089450582noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145678739101753289.post-35232208610258673402014-03-25T22:17:00.001-04:002014-03-25T22:17:09.416-04:00we won't accept NOFirst of all, I want to say thank you for a the well wishes, and prayers. From your comments, to emails, and text messages I felt so loved. I was really apprehensive to publish such a personal struggle. But I am so glad that I did, because I realized that a lot of my friends have gone through the same thing and now have multiple children. It gives my dying hope a little bit to feed off of, and this past week that was greatly needed. <br />
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I have received a lot of emails asking me what I have tried and if I ever heard of such and such all natural method, and all sorts of other recommendations. Without going into a lot of detail I will say that I tried a few natural methods before going to the doctor, they all failed. Yes, I have had my thyroid checked. Yes, they tested me (twice) for PCOS and a whole slew of other things. Supposedly, everything is "within normal limits". I am on my second cycle of a second kind of medication and it seems to be failing. I will say that I have a lot of confidence in my doctor, and he has a lot of confidence that I will become pregnant. <br />
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I understand that there are a lot of families out there that have struggled for much longer than we have. And I get that it's not over yet. Often times my emotional understanding (or lack there of), gets in the way of my logical thinking. But, I'm human, that is bound to happen. I have good days and bad. Yesterday was a bad day. Yesterday I had to take a sick day and stay home. It was a pretty emotional weekend for me, and I woke up with a killer migraine that wouldn't let up. I stayed in bed most of the day. The last time I was in bed most of the day was when I had just gotten out of the hospital. The fact that it was my birth control that caused me to get so sick a year and a half ago, is kinda like rubbing salt in my wound now. BUT, today was good. I was super productive at work, I got girl scout cookies from a co-worker, and had a rather uplifting conversation with my boss. Doctors told my boss and his wife point blank that they would never have kids of their own. Well, his wife is pregnant with their second child. He would not take no for an answer and neither will we.<br />
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<br />Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337528172089450582noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145678739101753289.post-81822005460779665982014-03-20T22:48:00.000-04:002014-03-20T22:48:26.889-04:00Waiting and WantingI have been thinking about this post all day, but I still can't seem to piece it all together. Actually, I have been thinking about this for months. I've been a little indecisive about how much of my personal life I share here. Usually I am pretty open, and if you asked I would pretty much tell you anything about my life. But for some reason, this felt like something I should keep to myself. Until today. Today was a super emotional day for me, and I realized that I need support. So, here I am pouring me heart out on the interwebs.<br />
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It's no secret that Dean and I want to be parents. It is also no secret that my health has a <a href="http://dontcallmekate.blogspot.com/2013/04/i-think-i-can-i-think-i-can.html">history of being less that stellar</a>. After everything that happened with my lungs, Dean and I decided that we wanted to become parents. Things seemed to fall into place just perfectly. I got a new job with a more flexible schedule, Dean works an opposite shift than me so we wouldn't need a full time sitter, I was off of my "dangerous to babies" medication, and we are looking into get a house within the next year or so. we decided to go for it, we had no reason not to. <br />
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Fast forward 7 months (December) - we are still not pregnant. So, I decided to bring it up with my doctor when I went in for my least favorite appointment of the year. He asked me to come in with Dean for a second appointment after doing some blood work and an ultrasound. So, we did. And that's where he dropped "the I bomb". Infertility. And what's worse - there is no explainable reason why. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGUw3HF7DVSor1qkvsM9gJK0toet9EQQtz-vphqUwyylD_xTODNyF5dPnETKtaLdEmrH7yJnD9hpIqP6PgdTafrFeev30V75ATQhjd12oagpA3chakYnUuGg1PGbcD9fhnrEBAOCZKiAg/s1600/up-hospital-room.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGUw3HF7DVSor1qkvsM9gJK0toet9EQQtz-vphqUwyylD_xTODNyF5dPnETKtaLdEmrH7yJnD9hpIqP6PgdTafrFeev30V75ATQhjd12oagpA3chakYnUuGg1PGbcD9fhnrEBAOCZKiAg/s1600/up-hospital-room.png" height="356" width="640" /></a></div>
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Since then, I have gone to numerous doctor appointments, taken multiple drugs, peed on countless sticks, and faced disappointment month after month. <br />
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So, here I am. That's all of this post I was able to logically write. The rest, the part about how I am feeling, what to do next, how you can help - yeah that stuff I can't seem put into words. I know I am sad. I know I am frustrated. I know that telling me "Your young, you have plenty of time!", or "don't lose faith, God has a plan" actually hurts me more than I would expect it to. <br />
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We plan to keep trying for now. I know that eventually, some day, I will be holding a sweet blonde baby in my arms. I will look back on this time with much more clarity than I have now. But tonight I am just sad.Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337528172089450582noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145678739101753289.post-47410386438843610722014-03-17T10:31:00.002-04:002014-03-17T10:31:25.515-04:00I hope the "church" dies with him.<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.333333969116211px; line-height: 18px;">Of course the first post I publish in weeks will be slightly controversial. In case you haven't heard, Fred Phillips, the founder of the Westboro Baptist Church, in <a href="http://www.cbsnews.com/news/westboro-baptist-church-founder-fred-phelps-sr-on-the-edge-of-death-son-says/">on his death bed</a>. It's not a big surprise that there are people saying his funeral should be protested. But let me ask you something, What does that prove? That the world is full of as much hate and anger that this man taught? Personally, I hope it is a quiet, empty funeral, a</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; display: inline; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.333333969116211px; line-height: 18px;">nd I hope that none sink to the level that this man and his followers have done, in some vain attempt to achieve some sick, twisted form of justice. I hope his "church" dies with him.<br /><br />Truthfully, I feel a little sorry for him. He choose to live a life of hate, to the point of pushing some of his family members away, he has led his followers to believe a perverse and twisted form of the "gospel", and has led countless others to hate Christianity, because all Christians must act like him....right? So, I feel sorry for him. I do not wish what I believe he will encounter when he passes over on my worst enemy.<br /><br />“Whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him if a great millstone were hung around his neck and he were thrown into the sea."<br /><br />I cannot and will not celebrate his death, I believe these will be the last words he will hear before descending into hell, damned forever for rejecting the redeeming grace and love of our blessed Savior...... "Depart from me for I never knew you"<br /><br />I'll admit, there is a part of me that wants to go dance on his grave, that wants his followers to know the hate they showed to so many. But there is another part of me that realizes, and grieves, at a soul that has willfully and knowingly chosen to reject the grace of salvation offered, to pervert a message of love into one of hate, his torment will be beyond anything we can imagine.<br /><br />This is not something to celebrate, merely something to note, let him die, and let it be, lest we become the very monsters we detest.</span>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337528172089450582noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145678739101753289.post-46794063820475502412014-02-20T10:27:00.002-05:002014-02-21T12:04:10.171-05:00I know the Magic WordsI know everyone posted their "Valentine's Recaps" on Monday, but I am not one of the cool kids so I am just mentioning it now. My Valentine's day started with a quick newborn photo shoot before I headed to work (I work half days on Fridays - yes you can be jealous). <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAVdbdzunQXaJhFhr3-MNXyNHG75c3DoCYFvfwmtj5arW4phhckaMR6hBHfhvaKeIkFY7QBU-9JkBWFEnrBH9cwwNumq9uTBfM5SOQaPH5RMF4yZHLfC9ny7D4VX7TA76E5jKXXMh0xWo/s1600/v-day.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAVdbdzunQXaJhFhr3-MNXyNHG75c3DoCYFvfwmtj5arW4phhckaMR6hBHfhvaKeIkFY7QBU-9JkBWFEnrBH9cwwNumq9uTBfM5SOQaPH5RMF4yZHLfC9ny7D4VX7TA76E5jKXXMh0xWo/s1600/v-day.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Post Valentine's photo</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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It's a tradition that Dean sends me flowers to work on Valentine's day. He always orders the same bouquet from the same company and they are usually always beautiful. Except, this year they were not. The delivery was late, the roses were half dead, and I was missing a bloom. Eventually we did get the refund, but we had to sweet talk the customer service agent, who was set on just sending replacements.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLMPoNz9_WZqHATArO3AC3MRacifUwwea2xLMPuSnFTg2fu2464xkuaouixrEQeLzjy5RToUXeBz1XHZb40bHbf7Ga87kcHtV6wcw-nGXYZE1r-cSnChwudgv6n8GLERvOPkaS7lQjPL0/s1600/what+I+got.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLMPoNz9_WZqHATArO3AC3MRacifUwwea2xLMPuSnFTg2fu2464xkuaouixrEQeLzjy5RToUXeBz1XHZb40bHbf7Ga87kcHtV6wcw-nGXYZE1r-cSnChwudgv6n8GLERvOPkaS7lQjPL0/s1600/what+I+got.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I could have gotten nicer flowers from Wegmans!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Since I have worked in one form of customer service or another since I was 17, I have learned exactly what to say to get what I want. And since I am a nice person, I will share some of that knowledge with you.<br />
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<b style="color: magenta;">ONE </b>Make sure you have a legitimate complaint.<span style="color: magenta;"> </span><br />
If you are calling your internet provider because you don't have enough bandwidth to stream Netflix, you have a good case. If you are mad that you have to pay extra for HBO when there are hundreds of other channels you don't watch, well, you are tough outta luck. <br />
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<span style="color: cyan;"><b>TWO</b></span> Have a solution in mind that is actually attainable. <br />
Expecting free flower delivery for a year is a little bit over board. However, it is perfectly reasonable to get a refund for the dead flowers I did receive. <br />
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<b><span style="color: magenta;">THREE</span></b> BE NICE!<br />
This is probably the most important piece of advice I could give you. Let's be honest, no one ever calls an 800 number when things are peachy. So, unless you are the first call of the customer service rep's day, they have been verbally abused by a few other people before talking to you. If you become your CSR's friend, they are more likely to help you out. <br />
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<b><span style="color: cyan;">FOUR</span></b> Only ask for a supervisor if your new friend really can't help you. <br />
What I mean by that is, don't jump the gun and ask for a supervisor as "punishment". Often times, CSR's say no off the bat because that is what they are told to do. If you explain the situation calmly, and ask again, they may be able to give you what you want after all. If they can't, then it's time to ask for the supervisor. But remember, the CSR controls what supervisor you get transferred to. So it is in your best interest to be nice, because they will send you to the person that will fix the problem. <br />
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99% of the time those simple steps work. Hopefully you won't need to use that info, but if you ever do, it's good to have a guide. Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337528172089450582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145678739101753289.post-70769831726426676772014-02-11T21:08:00.001-05:002014-02-11T21:08:27.602-05:00The L WordYou guys, I think it's just time I come out and say it. I am lazy. Remember when <a href="http://dontcallmekate.blogspot.com/2014/01/i-am-way-late-to-party-on-this-one.html">I said</a> I was going to be more productive and write 2 blog posts a week? Well in case you haven't been counting, that was 2 weeks ago and this is the 3rd post since then. Why? Because I am lazy.<br />
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The thing is, if you asked people that knew me, they wouldn't say I am lazy. My employers have always complimented me on my hard work (by the way I was promoted last week, but that is a whole different blog post), my mother-in-law has asked me how I do so much, and my home is usually in order (as long as you don't look in the bedroom). And while those things are great, and I am thankful for those things, I feel like just getting them done does not make me not lazy. It just makes me responsible - which at 27 should just be expected. <br />
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I tend to ignore the solution to a lot of things if I don't think it would be easy. For example, I was complaining about my lack of a social life. That weekend this conversation happen:<br />
Me: "Mary invited me to go have drinks with her to celebrate her new job"<br />Dean: "Oh, that sounds like fun! What time are you leaving?"<br />Me: "Never. I would have to put a bra on and that sucks the fun out of everything"<br />Dean: "so you are not going out because you don't want to wear undergarments?"<br />Me: "You know me so well."<br />
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I know that complaining about being lazy while sitting on the couch wishing I had a snuggie is not productive at all. I am not sure what motivation I need to change. But the fact is I don't like it. I know the simple answer is "just go do it", but I feel like there has to be more to it. <br />
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To go with the theme of "lazy", there will be no photos in the post. Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337528172089450582noreply@blogger.com1