Night Terror

I woke up feeling nauseous and I'm pretty sure it wasn't morning sickness. The following is an excerpt from me and Ryan’s conversation:

Ryan: I had a nightmare last night.
Bethany: Me too!
Ryan: Mine was awful.
Bethany: Oh Pooh Bear (sympathetically), whatever your dream might have been…mine was way way worse.

Ryan proceeded to tell me of his nightmare of a boss from hell and an assistant suing him for racial discrimination. I sat there smugly as he recounted his dream because I knew that my bad dream could run laps around his bad dream. Still, I politely let him finish and even added a few “oh nos” and “that sounds horrible” to be supportive.

Then it was my turn. I left out the gruesome details, for obvious reasons, but gave him the general idea of my night terror. Then I made him promise that under no circumstance was he to EVER bring up my dream to me again.

While he conceded that my nightmare was one of the worse he had ever heard, he had a hard time taking the vow of silence. Surely he could use the dream to tease and torment me for years to come. You see, in my nightmare…I had a love affair with David Hasselhoff.

A Serious Matter

I know it was stupid but everyone was doing it. Maybe I am just predisposed to this type of addiction…genetically I mean. My mom has been known to do it. Just “recreationally” of course. I caught my grandma doing it on several occasions, too. She even did it with me in the room once. I suspect that my brother and sister also have a problem. I have yet to confront them on the issue.

It is time for me to come clean. I’ve hurt the people I love the most. Ryan has asked me several times this week if I was mad at him. He said that I was ignoring him and when he asked me questions I just…gurgled… in response. But then my attention-starved child resorted to sitting on my face to get me to notice him. That was the turning point.

My name is Bethany Robinson Lee and I have a problem. I am a book-junkie.

When I started Twilight I thought I would be fine. But I couldn’t stop. I just kept reading. And when I wasn’t reading I was thinking about reading. Food lost its taste, sleep…a nuisance. People became mere objects to me. I was in a zone. A “book coma” is what the professionals called it.

My PR representative, on the other hand, called it “a career glitch” and suggested rehab.

Turns out, Twilight was just a gateway book. I immediately started New Moon and then turned to the hard-core stuff …Harry Potter. I want to stop, but don’t know if I can. Your prayers and support will help. Presents are also good.

It's Raining Books...Hallelujah!

Have you ever had so many blessings thrown at you all at once that you felt like you couldn't possibly physically receive them all? My manna from heaven came in the form of literature this past weekend. In addition to my six library books Harry Potter also arrived in the mail. Then my friend loaned me both Twilight and New Moon by Stephenie Meyer. All of these books were highly anticipated and entered my apartment within 24 hours of each other.

So I did what any person in possession of well over 3,000 pages of unexplored joy would do. I turned on the TV.

I guess I felt the same way a patient who just underwent the lap band procedure would feel upon entering a Chuck-O-Rama. So many good books, so little Bethany. I just froze. There was just so much amazing stuff to read that there was really no rational place to begin.

Yellow Blanket

I still have a blanky. I am not ashamed. I love it and I need it. Especially after giving Cuddle Puff away. Cuddle Puff is my stuffed pink mouse. Was might be a better word. Now Cuddle Puff is my stuffed pink pancake. Let me explain.

When Ryan and I were dating he had heart surgery. I thought it would be a poetic gesture if I loaned him Cuddle Puff to get him through the ordeal. While he appreciated the thought, he may have been a little grossed-out by the patchy pink/gray rodent (Cuddle Puff had seen better days). Although I informed Ryan that Cuddle Puff frequented the Laundromat, the Puff still remained on the bedside table next to Ryan instead of tucked in bed with him.

This is why when Ryan and I got engaged I knew that my mouse had to go. I bravely gave it to Ryan before we wed and told him he could throw it away if he wanted. Instead, he gently tucked it away with his other childhood treasures in his black chest. Is it any wonder why I married the man?

So maybe the joke is on Ryan. I may have gotten rid of my stuffed animal but I kept my yellow blanky. I sleep with the threadbare rag tucked in my arms every night. I have finally admitted to myself that I don’t just like it because of its soft texture or vibrant color, but am completely attached to it.

I still miss Cuddle-Puff, though. I snuck to Ryan’s treasure chest just to check on my old friend once. I pushed aside Ryan’s old baseball cards and footballs and *gasp* there was my beloved mouse “de-Puffed.” Cuddle Puff was as flat as a pancake with no hope of recovery. It was heartbreaking to say the least.

So now the yellow blanket is really it… for me at least. Doug has a blanky, too. My mom made it for him and it is blue. He calls it his “gooka.” Previously, he has shunned all other blankets, but there was a surprising development this morning.

I went to check on him in the master bedroom and Doug was on my bed snuggling with my yellow blanket. I have mixed emotions about this. On one hand, I feel like my blanket is cheating on me. On the other hand, I feel more bonded to Doug because he too has discovered the secret wonders of the yellow blanket. Just to be safe, however, I should not introduce him to my pink-and-condensed mouse.

One is Silver...

When Doug spots someone his approximate size he shrieks and runs full force toward them. About two feet in front of them he comes to a screeching halt, sticks out his belly, reaches out his fist -as if to present them with a bug or small carpet muffin- and then boom, they are now best buddies. This friendship ritual has yet to fail him.

As a child, making friends was a piece of cake. “You like pizza! I can believe it! I like pizza, too!” Link arms and skip into the sunset.

In junior high it was a little trickier but usually we gravitated towards the people with similar grooming habits. If we were lucky we would not deviate from these friendships and smooth-sail through high school.

College was also easy. Move into a random apartment, offer to share the contents of your closet, and pray that your roommates are A) not interested in the same guys you are or B) not as cute as you are. Provided either A or B are true than these friends fulfill most social needs for the semester.

Now that we just moved to Dallas, Ryan and I are once again starting from scratch in the local friends department. I find this stressful because I have forgotten how to make friends. In the past I have minimal social requirements and therefore dodged getting-to-know-you shindigs like the plague... or squash. But now I find myself in a more vulnerable state. Ryan has more responsibility at work, my hormones are ricocheting off the walls, and my toddler needs some buddies himself.

I don’t like forced awkward friendships, but I do love dear true friendships based on common interests, goals, experiences and natural chemistry. I am good at these types of relationships. Unfortunately, I have to “do the time” on order to achieve this level of friendship. It is time for me to bite-the-bullet.

I began my quest to find friends last week at church. I thought Doug’s method might be as good a start as any. I went up to a woman approximately my size, stuck out my belly and said “You’re pregnant! Look, I am pregnant too!” Okay, so I am not yet a well-oiled machine but this technique seemed to work. She is now my friend. Thank heavens that I didn’t overdue it by also giving her a bug.

Top Ten Reasons NOT to Take your Toddler to your Obstetrician Appointment

1.) The fish tank in the waiting room only occupies a toddler’s interest for 33.5 seconds.

2.) Baggies of Goldfish crackers are sometimes emptied out onto the waiting room carpet and stomped upon by size four and a half shoes.

3.) Trying to eat to settle your stomach, while feeding your hungry child, chasing your hungry child, calming the tantrum, filling-out your stack of paper work, and paying your co-pay all at the same time is problematic.

4.) Being interrupted with your eating, feeding, chasing, calming, writing, and paying by a page from the nurse informing the waiting room that there is a black corolla in the parking lot with its lights on is also a little thorny. (I was wondering why my car was buzzing after Doug had pushed a few mystery buttons as I was getting my purse off the front seat.)

5.) Stepping on the scale while holding a 20-something pound one-year-old, who is kicking, doesn’t accurately gauge your weight gain.

6.) Stirrups.

7.) There are easily accessible trash cans labeled “Bio-hazard.”

8.) Drawers filled with pre-sterilized stainless-steel instruments (eh-hem) are not supposed to be touched by sticky curious fingers.

9.) Chasing your toddler around the room without your pants on is...drafty.

10.) If nothing else because it gives you the feeling “what on earth was I thinking creating ANOTHER one of these!”

Anniversary

My teeth and hair are their genetically-appointed color. I have purchased only about three pairs of shoes in the last several years…two of which were athletic shoes. I have received only one professional pedicure in my life… and it was from the Walmart salon. So basically this: I would not consider myself a high-maintenance girl.

This is not to say that I don’t have my girly-kryptonites. I do: MAC counters, Haagen-Dazs, haircuts, People magazine, sparkly things. I admit that every time I pass a jewelry counter at the mall my pace becomes snail-like as I inconspicuously survey the goods. Of course I do not expect any of these sparkly luxuries. On the contrary, I figure these things come much later in life when one’s monthly mortgage is not well-balanced by the purchase of diapers and juice boxes.

Early June Ryan and I were strolling in the mall when we passed Kay Jewelers. I gasped when I saw IT. Call me old-fashioned but I luh-huh-hove cameos. Not only was this particular cameo a breathtaking image of a young woman adoring her infant baby but it was in non-other but my signature color… a perfect celebration of my current life.




After I had gaped at the necklace for a few minutes I did not mention to Ryan that I wanted it so badly. I didn’t even tell him of my daydreams of parading it proudly around town and having strangers ogle at my neck and beg to know where I got such a beautiful piece of jewelry. How embarrassing it would be if anyone knew that.

Our third anniversary was last Monday. True to form my hubby wined and dined me. He walked though the door after a long day at work with an amazing arrangement of lilies (in a cobalt blue vase), took me to dinner, and then we came home to open presents… bet you don’t know what’s coming... My very observant, thoughtful, handsome husband had special ordered me my perfect beautiful cameo necklace even with a few bonus sparklies on it.

I got him work clothes.

So my gift to him was sub-par and I felt sheepish. But I also felt so happy that my husband sees his wife as a beautiful ten-cow woman worthy of an occasional spoiling… even if she herself sometime feels like a grouchy, tired, bloated low-maintenance woman.

Tantrum

Contrary to what you may have thought this entry is not about Doug. It is about me. I threw a good old-fashioned tissy-fit yesterday and it felt good…real good. I have never been so frustrated with a company’s product and “customer service” in my life. My conversation with the AT&T rep ended in me foaming at the mouth and snarling, and I quote “Your company is a freaking joke!” I know, how very Mrs. March of me but at least I did not give in to my original impulse which was to call her a “big fat poop head.”

Anyhow, this company is the reason that Ryan and I have been living in the ice age without phone, cable, or internet for the last three weeks. The worst calamity of all is that I missed my Wednesday night ritual of So You Think You Can Dance. I almost invited the wooly mammoths for dinner just so I could further delight in my victimhood.

But today things are looking brighter. The cable guy is coming, our internet package arrived, we have a land-line, and Ryan is about to install our router so our cell phones will work. All is not lost. That being said, expect regular blogs from now on by yours truly…and maybe I will even return your phone calls.