Originally published at American Family. Please leave any comments there.

Damn, wasn’t the Olympic opening ceremony pretty effing awesome?  I mean, no one else  can throw a couple thousand performers out there and do it as well as the Chinese.

I asked Mr. A what he thought as we were watching:

Me: “So, you are impressed?”

Mr.A: “Yes.”

Me: “What are you thinking?”

Mr. A: “I should have worked harder at learning Chinese.”

Me: “Does it make you feel proud of your people?”

Mr. A: “Yes, but also a little scared.”

Me: “Scared?”

Mr. A: “Yeah, see how those guys are walking all over that big lit-up globe?  It is like they are saying ‘We are coming to take over the world with our massive numbers and ostentatious display of new found wealth!’”

Me: “Yup, I can see how one might interpret it that way…but look!  There are the happy faces of all the children of the world flashing on the screens.  They are smiling because they are happy to be conquered by the wealthy Chinese masses!  If they manage the world has well as they have managed the opening ceremony, we will all be happier once China rules the world!  Just give into your Chinese-ruled destiny, my friend.”

Mr. A: “Man, the Chinese are good at propaganda.”

Originally published at American Family. Please leave any comments there.

Once upon a time, Mr. A’s job bothered me.  I mean, I am a FEMINIST.  A LIBERAL.  And here I am, living off the profits Mr. A earned by representing corporations who kill puppies and destroy the ozone layer for fun.

Just kidding, I actually don’t know what companies he represent actually allegedly did or did not do. 

I don’t know, because when Mr. A starts talking about work, my brain gets cloudy and I hum a nice “la la la la la” song in my head while trying to look interested until he gets it out of his system.  I learned this technique when M started telling me ridiculously boring stories about dragons, imaginary friends and super heros.  It works equally well with both of them.

Anyway, what I was trying to say is that I used to be more bothered by Mr. A’s clients until I got used to living off his income and not needing to work myself.  The ethical stuff doesn’t bother me much at all anymore, now I just wonder why they aren’t paying him more.  Ahem.

Recently, though, Mr. A got assigned to a case that is clearly on the good guys’ side.  For the sake of lawyer-client-lawyer’s wife confidentiality, we will just call that client “Benevolent Corp.”  I like Benevolent Corp.  I think they are very interesting and cool, so I gave Mr. A a big thumbs up when he told me about the case.

I think Mr. A is trying to leverage this rare opportunity of wife job-approval.   His is name dropping Benevolent Corp. all over the place.

“I was really busy at work today, the Benevolent Corp. case is taking a lot of my time.” he said.

And: “I was researching blah blah blah for Benevolent Corp….” 

And “Today I was talking to XYZ person about Benevolent Corp…”

“I have to work late tonight — it is the Benevolent Corp. case!”  he said, knowing full well I wouldn’t begrudge the extra time for Benevolent Corp.

I am starting to think I am lucky he doesn’t work in public interest law all the time.  If it was his career I may actually have to be interested in his job, rather than just pretending to listen.  We would probably be a lot poorer if he did that kind of work too. 

Hopefully, he will get this bit of do-gooder-ness out of his system before it becomes a lifestyle choice.  Everything in moderation, right?

Originally published at American Family. Please leave any comments there.

If I do say so myself, I am totally kicking ass at the not shopping thing. 

We are 25 days into June and I think I have spent less than $25 on frivolities.  And most of that was cheating with cheap take-out last week when I was going crazy because Mr. A was working so much overtime.   Oh, and I also bought a really deeply discounted set of sheets for about $28 because Mr. A’s hair product has yellowed all our pillowcases and they are grossing me out.   But over all, I am doing a good job not shopping.

Possibly, I need to stop talking about my cheapness though.  Because other people are starting to egg me on in my thriftyness.  Possibly to a slightly wacky degree.

First thing this morning, my sister called.  She wanted to let me know she read in the newspaper that Chipotle was giving away free burritos between 5:00 and 8:00.  I thanked her for the info and didn’t think about it again.  I don’t mind Chipotle.  I eat it occasionally because it is closer to our house and more convenient than any other burrito place.  But it is kind of pricy for a burrito that is only so-so.

Then, Mr. A called to tell me about the free burritos.  Mr. A sounded REALLY excited about the free burritos.  He kept saying “They’re free!  It’s FREE BURRITOS! Don’t you want to eat FREE BURRITOS?!” 

Mr. A loves burritos in all shapes, sizes and styles.  (And yes, they all give him digestive issues.)   He has also been humoring me (at least I *think* he has been humoring me) by taking his lunch this month and not buying much (though he did cheat a little by getting his bike tuned up). 

I figured, what the heck?  What else were the girls and I doing at 5:00?  We could stand in line or I could cook dinner.  Honestly, standing in line seemed a little more appealing, so I said we would swing by and pick them up.

Mr. A was so excited he called me TWICE to make sure I was on board and was clear about his order.  He was especially concerned that I might forget to buy his precious chips and salsa.  I was reluctant because chips and salsa were not included in the FREE BURRITO deal.  But Mr. A was insistant.  He needed chips and salsa, damn the $1.25 they would cost.

At around 4:00, when the girls and I were at a park in the vacinity of Chipotle, it started raining.  Actually, it was a downpour of almost biblical proportions.   I thought this would deter a lot of free-burrito seekers.  When the rain let up around 4:30, I was sure we would get a great spot in line. 

Oh, how I underestimated my fellow Midwesterner’s love of A) Burritos and B)Free Things.

When we got to Chipotle at 4:45, there was a line down the side of the building and around part of the parking lot.  When we got in line, I estimate there were maybe 150 to 200 people in front of us.  Within five minutes, the line behind us was at least as long as the line in front of us.

We could see some storm clouds off in the distance, but I told the girls we were going to stick it out for the free burritos.  It was going to be a Burrito Adventure.

At around 5:00, it started to rain.   At about 5:02, it started to pour.  And lightning.  And thunder.  Did I mention we didn’t have an umbrella?   To my disappointment, no one left the line in front of us because of the rain. 

We were all there together.  Burrito warriors.  Toughing it out for the carnitas. 

At first, M meeped a little about the thunder.  But once I gave her some pretzels and cashews, she started to enjoy standing in the rain.  L had a great time splashing in the ankle-deep puddles.  We were all completely soaked from head to toe, but we soldiered on.  Fortunately, it was not cold, so the suffering was not too extreme.

My sister, who was still stuck at work, called repeatedly to find out how many people were in line.  In a revealing demonstration of her lack of thriftyness and intestinal fortitute, she wussed out and went home with no burritos.

At around 6:07, a mere 1 hour and 22 minutes after we got in line, we finally made it into Chipotle.  We got our three burritos (one for each girl and one for me) and Mr. A’s precious bag of chips.  As we were leaving the restaurant, the last of the rain sprinkled down and the sun started poking through the clouds.

We brought our booty home to a very-thrilled Mr. A, who not only got to eat a burrito for dinner, but also has one left over to take tomorrow for lunch.  (The girls don’t really like restaurant burritos, so they ate eggs and bacon for dinner.)

Standing in the pouring rain for an hour to get a free burrito may actually be one of the stranger things I have done lately.  Maybe it will one of those stories that M tells about her crazy-cheap mother in years to come.  It wouldn’t be the worst story she could tell.  All-in-all, for a satisfied husband and a funny story, it was worth the wait.

Originally published at American Family. Please leave any comments there.

I had to do a bit of arm twisting to convince Mr. A to go along with my summer project.  For the months of June and July, I am trying a not-exactly radical experiment:  We are trying to buy nothing but the basic necessities.  Hopefully, we can save a chunk of cash to replenish some of the savings we used to make home repairs when we thought we were going to move.

To make this work, we had to come up with a realistic budget and decide what we would and would not give up.  This sounds easier than it was in reality, because we don’t usually have a real budget for anything.  Well, except for a vague grocery ($120/week) and eating-out ($50) guideline that we regularly exceed. 

So last weekend, Mr. A and I sat down and looked at what we spent over the past three months and were not excactly surprised by how much money we piddle away on dumb things.  We aren’t going to cut back drastically on our regular expenses (because we don’t want this to be the summer of ascesticism), but this month, the piddling STOPS.  If it doesn’t fit into one of the jointly-approved budget categories, we don’t buy it.

Now that I am not buying things, I am realizing how much time I spend thinking about things I might want to buy.  In the last three days, I caught myself thinking about buying the following:

1) A swimming tube for L like the one they have at the rec center $15

2) A swim noodle for L  $4

3) A sun-blocking hat for L, even though she would probably not wear it.  $6

4) A new bottle of sunscreen because I left ours at my mom’s house last weekend.  I am actually going back to her house this week, so I could probably just pick up the old one. $8

5) Math workbooks to keep M busy this summer  $15

6) Math flash cards so I can stop playing “Ask me how much it is if you add two numbers together” with M  $3

7) Mr. Clean Magic Erasers because I can’t find the old one and the crayon on the spare-room closet door is bothering me. $3

8) New pillows. Just because ours are kind of flat-looking $20

9) New pillowcases because Mr.A’s hair gel has discolored the old ones $20

10) Top sheets for the girls. I don’t know if they sell just top sheets or what i did with the old ones, but the girls only have thick blankets and it is too hot at night for that.  $20?

11) Bean bag chairs for the basement $50

12) A cheap chef’s mandolin because I read a book about knife skills and it seems to be able to do cool things  $150

13) A CD carrying case to hold all the CDs I don’t actual own for the CD player in my new car  $5

14) A new sprinker that is better for playing in the yard $15

15) A new trashcan that will prevent the damn racoons from continually spreading garbage all over the yard  $20

16) Hiring someone to come trap the racoons  $50?

17) Sunglasses for me $10

18) Sunglasses for the girls. $15

If we were not on our spending vacation, I would probably have purchased 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 13, and 17 immediately and without much thought if i were in a place like Target where it would be convenient ($51).  I may have mentioned 1, 6, 11, 14 and 18 to my mom to see if she felt interested in buying any of those ($97). I can pretty safely assume she would buy at least half of those ($49), though they may not be the specific version I had in mind.   I probably would have eventually coughed up the dough for 10, 15 and maybe 16 after a lot of wishy-washy internal debate ($90).  I probably would not actually buy 8, 9, or 12, because I couldn’t really justify the expense.

So all together, I have saved myself $141.  And I may have saved my mom* at least $49 and she isn’t even involved in the experiment!

Mr. A just came in and looked at my list. Then he tried to convince me to buy the swim tube, swim noodle, math workbook, math flashcards and racoon removal despite the spending vacation.  And then he shuffled out of the room mumbling that we need to get the math workbook so M will one day be able to get into Columbia. 

I am holding firm. 

(Please save your diatribes about me taking advantage of my mom.  She likes to buy things for us and prefers it when I give her an idea of things the girls would enjoy.  Better I tell her that they love sunglasses but lost/broke them already this year, rather than have her waste her money on random crap that will languish on the shelf unused until I send it to goodwill.)

Originally published at American Family. Please leave any comments there.

Last night, Mr. A and I were hanging out with a lawyerly couple when I outed myself as a blogger.  I was talking about my plans to take us all to China and Taiwan in about a bazillion years using my blogad revenue without dipping into the family’s main income stream aka Mr. A’s paycheck.  (Since I make well under $100 a month, it will only take about 7 years. heh.)

Since that conversation, Mr. A has come up with a variety of different crazy plans to increase my blog income.  For the record, I am not at all interested in pursuing them because it would take a lot of work and still not create much revenue.  And also, money is is not why I blog (thank goodness, because I would be failing miserably!). 

Mr. A also thought up several schemes to make his own blog and get his own ad revenue. 

(For the record, the idea of Mr. A blogging for income is INSANE, because his employer bills his time out at something like $300 per HOUR — not that he actually sees that $300– and I would guess that my per-hour blog income is something like $2 per hour?  More like $0.25 per hour if you include blog reading as research and development time.  It would make much more sense for Mr. A to work harder, make partner and then skim of his share of the billable hours of the pee-ons below him rather than piddling around blogging and not billing.)

Tonight, Mr. A decided it is his new calling to start a local food blog.   He was reading some local food forum post about a visit to a Korean restaurant.  He came bursting up the stairs with inspiration:

MR. A:   “Ok, I know what you need to do.  You need to start a food blog.  Because people here are CLUELESS!  I just read this post about this person’s visit to a Korean restaurant and they were so impressed with those little dishes that they give you before you order.  And they were weirded out by the little fishes!  I mean, who are these people writing  a Korean restaurant review and they have never even seen the little fishes before?!?  And they were so impressed that those dishes were free!  Has this person never been to a Korean restaurant??  Are they really qualified to review it?  And the person was saying how they always like to try to eat with CHOPSTICKS when they get Asian food?  Well, YEAH!  I mean what are they trying to say, chopsticks are some kind of wierd, exotic utensil?  Because, DUH, you use chopsticks to eat noodles.  It isn’t rocket science!”

ME:  “I am not going to write a food blog.  I would have to go look up the names of those little dishes and of the dish with the fish.  I would have to know how to describe Korean food in a food-intelligent way.  No.  No thank you.”

MR. A:  “Well, maybe I will just do it myself!  It wouldn’t even be that much work!  We eat out at least once  a week.  Every time, I could just write a post about it.  People would read it right?”

ME:  “Well… yes people would read it.  They read all kinds of crap blogs.  But it would be a lot of work.   You would have to go comment other places to get readers. You would have to be nice to people who comment on your blog.  It takes time and effort.  I suck at that stuff, otherwise we could afford to go to China a lot sooner.  I am not going to write ANOTHER blog.  Besides, a restaurant blog would have to be local.  I don’t write the name of where we live so you won’t get fired.”

MR. A: ”Hmm.  Well, maybe I will just write it myself.  I could start by writing about the Indonesian restaurant where we ate tonight.”

ME: “HA!  Now that would be a terrible blog!  All your entries would be about how the food you ate made you sick!  (Mr. A has a delicate stomach which is probably irritable bowel syndrome and severe lactose intolerance.)  This would be your first entry:

‘Tonight we at at the Indonesian Restaurant.  It was good.  I ate too much and drank a pink fizzy soda.  I particularly loved the spicy egg.  Then I had digestive issues and had to go immediately home.’

MR. A:  “YES! That is exactly what I would write, but I would also mention that the restaurant should hire another server because it took 15 minutes to get the check!”

ME: And what else would you post?   ‘Tonight, we ate dosa.  I love this particular South Indian restaurant.  I would write a more detailed post, but I have digestive issues from the spices and have to go directly to the toilet now.’ ”

ME:  “Or maybe you would write ‘Tonight, we ate at the fancy ice cream shop.  My malt was delicious, but then I had to jog home and leave the wife and kids walking several blocks back because I am lactose intolerant.  I almost didn’t make it!’”

MR. A: “I can’t help it that I have digestive issues!  Maybe it is my lot in life to suffer for my blog!  My readers would know that I was suffering for THEM.”

ME: “You would have to call your blog ‘In and Out’ or maybe ‘Food and Poo.’  That would be awesome.”

ME Again: “You know I am going to have to blog this conversation, right?”

MR. A: “Yes.  I will even let you blog about my poo problems.  But you have to make sure you tell them about the chopsticks comment by that reviewer.  I mean seriously.  They are JUST CHOPSTICKS.  It is no big deal!”

Originally published at American Family. Please leave any comments there.

Memorial day weekend is always the best weather.  It is also the annual Asian festival.  What a lovely day we had on saturday. 

M falls prey to insurance marketing.

L loves the tiny southeast Asian house.

 Mr. A, BIL, and double-decker cousins.

 New-to-me car with hopefully better gas mileage, no leaking oil and 120,000 less miles than my old car.

M is learning to ride a two-wheeler.

The most beautiful smile in the world. 

Originally published at American Family. Please leave any comments there.

So, I never went back and explained clearly that we are not moving.  Mr. A withdrew his application for those jobs.   Looking back on it all, it is kind of funny how it happened…

(((((((((((((wavy dream sequence special effects)))))))))))))))))))

Fall 2007,  after seven or eight months in baby jail.

Mr. A: “There is this interesting thing at work that is related to China.  Some people at the company want to try to get some China business.”

Me: “OMG, you should totally DO IT.  Get a job in China.  Then we can all live there!   You PROMISED we could live overseas for a year.  Let’s do it!  We can make it happen!”

Mr. A: “Uh, that isn’t exactly how it works…I don’t really speak enough chinese to work there…I am not actually interested in that kind of law….”

Me: “Ok, so you won’t work as a lawyer!  Let’s just get teaching jobs!  It will be so AWESOME!  A year off!  Yippee!”

Mr. A: “Uh, I’m not so sure….”

(((((((((((((wavy dream sequence special effects)))))))))))))))))))

Christmas 2007

Me: “Merry Christmas Mr. A!  I know you have some concerns that taking a year off to go to China will wreck your career, but I heard a thing on NPR and I bought you this book!  It says a year off is good for you!”

Mr. A: “But if I take a year off, it really WILL be bad for my career…”

Me: “Ssshhhhh!!!  Did you read the book?  The book has all the answers.  Read the book.  We are GOING TO CHINA.  It is my LIFE’s DREAM.”

Mr. A: “Ok, I will read the book.”

(((((((((((((wavy dream sequence special effects)))))))))))))))))))

January 2008

Mr.A: “I read the book.”

Me: “Yay! I am glad you came around to my side!  We can go to China!”

Mr. A: “Actually the book says when people start thinking about a sabbaticals they start reassessing their lives and look at their dreams.  Going to China is actually YOUR dream.  I was thinking when we came back, maybe I can get MY dream job.  It would be a big pay cut and we would have to move but…..”

Me: “What!!???!  But….China…..our families…the mortgage…a year off was already going to be really, really expensive….”

(((((((((((((wavy dream sequence special effects)))))))))))))))))))

Later in January 2008, on a long car trip.

Me: “So are you really unhappy with your job now?”

Mr. A: “No, my job is good.  But this other job is like my wet dream job!”

Me: “So that is what would make you happy?

Mr. A: “Yes, but we would probably have to move.”

Me (looking out the window at the freezing cold and grey midwestern landscape): ”Who cares about this place?  The weather sucks!  And I guess I want you to be happy.  Ok, Let’s move!”

Me: “If it really makes you happy, I guess I can just give up my dream of a year in China since there is no way we can afford to do both.”

Mr. A: “You mean it?  YAY!  And I wasn’t really that interested in living in China anyway, because I have already done that…”

Me: “…but I haven’t…”

(((((((((((((wavy dream sequence special effects)))))))))))))))))))

Spring 2008.  Mr. A applies for new jobs.  I begin massive home repairs.

Mr. A: ”OMG!  I have all these connections to get these jobs!  I know I can get one sooner or later!”

Me:  “Shhh.  I am painting and hammering and sanding so I can block out all thoughts of the long-term impact of this move.  But yay.  I want you to be happy.   You better be happy, dammit.”

(((((((((((((wavy dream sequence special effects)))))))))))))))))))

Spring 2008

Mr. A: “I feel really conflicted.  I don’t want to move.”

Me: “LA LA LA! Paint is in my ears! I can’t hear you! We are moving!  To make you happy! Be happy dammit!”

(((((((((((((wavy dream sequence special effects)))))))))))))))))))

Mr. A: “I am really worried about moving.  What if my dad dies while we are gone?  What if this is his only chance to be close to the girls and I am taking them away?”

Me:  “Seriously, we are moving.  For you.  Because this will make you happy.  You want that job, right?”

Mr. A: “Yes….but I am worried…”

Me: “Mr. A, I am trying to be your cheerleader.  Please don’t make me be the one to convince you to take this job if you are conflicted.  This whole thing is making my life really hard.  There is only so much I can take…”

(((((((((((((wavy dream sequence special effects)))))))))))))))))))

Mr. A: “I have an interview in Chicago!”

Me: “crap.  I mean, YAY!”

Interview happens, Mr. A is rejected.  Mr. A is mopey.  I am happy, but feel guilty.

Old life resumes.  We pretend we aren’t moving.  Our small midwestern town is shiney and happy.  Birds are chirping.  Flowers are blooming.  I realize that I always hate the midwest in winter, but I love it the rest of the year.  I have agreed to something that may be a terrible mistake.  Life is good here.  But we are committed to moving, so I move on to landscaping…

(((((((((((((wavy dream sequence special effects)))))))))))))))))))

Mr. A gets another interview in D.C.

Me: “This is TERRIBLE!  I shouldn’t have agreed!  I don’t want to move!  I like our life!  SOB SOB SOB.  The flowers!  The birds!  The new playroom in the basement!”

Mr. A: “Ok, I won’t take the interview.  You don’t want to move.”

Me: “What?  But you want the job!  Tell me about the job…”

Mr. A:  “Well, it is a job that could do XYZ and change the whole course of my career and I would be a SUPER HUGE ROCKSTAR LAWYER!  But I am not taking the interview because you are sad.”

Me: “I need to go think alone for a little bit.”

An hour later.  After a long angsty phone call with a friend and a lot of soul searching.

Me: “OK, take the interview.  We can make this work.”

Mr. A: “Ok! Yippee”

(((((((((((((wavy dream sequence special effects)))))))))))))))))))

The next day.  Mr. A comes home from work.

Mr.A: “Oh, by the way, I called about that job.  It turns out it wasn’t what I thought it was.  So I don’t want to interview.”

Me: “Are you kidding me?”   Pounds head on table.

(((((((((((((wavy dream sequence special effects)))))))))))))))))))

A few days later.

Mr. A: “Wow, this process is really stressful.”

Me: “Yes.”

Mr. A:  “In another couple weeks, a job offer will mean that M has to move in the middle of kindergarten.  I don’t want her to have to do that.”

Me: “Yes.”

Mr. A:  “And actually, neither of us really want to move.”

Me: “Yes.”

Mr. A: “And my job isn’t actually that bad…and there are other good jobs around here anyway.”

Me: “That is your call. I want you to be happy.  You said the job would make you happy, so that is what we were going to do.”

Mr. A:  “Is moving going to make you unhappy?”

Me:  “Probably, but we will survive.”

Mr. A:  “But I am actually pretty happy here…well, maybe we should just stay here then.”

Me: “That would make life a lot easier.”

The End.

That is how both Mr. A and I flirted with fulfilling our life’s dreams, but then we each let our dream go. 

I think we both realized that a good marriage is not necessarily about getting the most important thing for one of us.  Instead, our marriage works because we are both willing to compromise for each other and our kids. 

While we may not be bohemian globetrotters or super duper legal rockstars, the life we have together is pretty damn good.
 

Originally published at American Family. Please leave any comments there.

This afternoon, Mr. A got a call about another interview.

This job is much more important and prestigous than the one in Chicago.  And strangely, I think he has a much better chance of actually getting this job. 

 It is rare that we are at such a pivotal moment in our lives and actually aware of it while it is happening.

That knowledge is not making this any easier.

I do not know what we are going to do. 

Originally published at American Family. Please leave any comments there.

Mr. A and I just spent over an hour trying to shove our playroom couch through the doorway to the basement.  It doesn’t fit.  There is absolutely no way to make it fit.  The effort was beyond annoying.   I never liked that ugly couch anyway, so I am going to either give it to a friend who just bought her first condo or sell it.  Good riddance.

In other news, Mr. A found out today that he didn’t get an offer from the place where he interviewed in Chicago.  When we found out, I was very, very happy that the odds that we will have to move dropped considerably.  I would go into more detail about my glee, but it seems unkind to be so happy when my husband just got rejected from one of his dream jobs. 

He still has applications in at two different offices (Denver & D.C.).  We have agreed to wait until the end of May and if Mr. A doesn’t have any interviews by that time, he will withdraw his application.  We do not want to move M in the middle of her kindergarten year and selling our house in the late summer/fall would be prohibitively difficult in this market. 

I am afraid to get too hopeful about the prospect of not moving, but I am hopeful.  I will be counting down the days with my fingers crossed. 

I think Mr. A is disappointed that he didn’t get the job.  Being the fancypants that he is, he hasn’t had to deal with much rejection in his work life.  He seems to be taking it ok, though.  It isn’t like he doesn’t have other options.  There are many other firms or companies that would be happy to have him.  He just needs to be patient and find the right fit.

Walking around my little suburban town today, everything seemed so shiny and pleasant.  There is nothing like the thought of leaving to make home seem so much more appealing.

Originally published at American Family. Please leave any comments there.

This morning, Mr. A called his dad to remind him to come over at noon to help M practice her Chinese like he does every Sunday.  Today was a little different because as soon as he answered the phone at 10 a.m., FIL said “Today is TEST for M at Chinese school.  You start studying NOW! I will come over early!  She has TEST!”

FIL showed up a half an hour early at 11:30.   He immediately started lecturing M about the importance of studying for her test.  At one point, Mr. A wandered in to the lesson and found M messing around.  He also gave her a lecture about the importance of studying and doing well on her test.  M seemed unimpressed.

(Can I just interject here and point out that we are talking about a PRESCHOOL class!  She was supposed to memorize about 20 characters and write them when the teacher called out the words.  While learning 20 characters seems reasonable enough to me, putting the “test” label on it seems like a bit much.)

So M marched off to Chinese school for her test.  After her language class, I met up with her to take her to dance class.  M was carrying a big stuffed polar bear which was some kind of prize for doing well on her test.  She proudly showed me her paper and she received a 110.  (110 was weird because she missed two characters, so maybe some of them were bonuses or something.)

After Mr. A and his dad left, M couldn’t stop talking about her test and the stupid bear prize.  I was only half listening when she said “Mama, when I forgot how to write the words, GongGong (FIL) let me see the my practice paper.”

What?!?  Surely, I had misunderstood. 

But when she was asked a few follow up questions, M confirmed that when she didn’t know the answer, FIL let her look at a paper with all the characters on it.

I mentioned to M that looking at the answers during a test is called cheating.  Her only point of reference for cheating is the Junie B. Jones book “Cheater Pants.”   Once I said “cheating” she clammed up and wouldn’t talk about it any more.  She knew that cheating is bad, but she clearly still didn’t understand why she wasn’t supposed to look at the answer sheet when she needed to know the answer.  I will talk to her about it a little more in the next couple days.  I did a miserable job today because I kept laughing (because the whole situation is completely ludicrous) while I was trying to explain why cheating is bad.

Mr. A thinks if we asked FIL why he helped M cheat, FIL’s answer would be “It was a TEST.  She needed to get a good GRADE!”   I am also reminded of a story about FIL when he was growing up.  I think there was a story that he had tutors or servants who did his homework for him. 

I also think the fact that both Mr. A and is father seemed incapable of keeping a preschool test in perspective and were at all concerned about her “grade” says a lot.  Mr. A thinks it is very funny.  I am more than a little appalled that M has been taught to cheat on her very first test ever.

Originally published at American Family. Please leave any comments there.

Thanks for the help.  I spent the morning at Benjamin more selecting little pots of sample paint and I think I found a color for the stairs.  It is a little darker than the kitchen, but still in the fawn/taupe family.

If I were my own therapist, I would say what happened is that I painted over the red stairs and then panicked.  I don’t WANT things to change.  I don’t want to move. And I want my stairs to STAY RED just like I want everything else to stay the same.

Did I mention that when Mr. A sent in his application for the job, the BIG BOSS sent word the same day that he is very excited to see Mr. A’s resume?  And also Mr. A should call on the Boss’ personal number early this week so they can DISCUSS WHICH AREAS Mr. A is MOST INTERESTED IN?   This is a place where they get HUNDREDS (maybe thousands) of applications for each open position, for crying out loud.  And Mr. A gets to talk personally to the big boss and discuss which position might suit him best.  Sometimes I wish he wasn’t such a damn overachiever. 

I threw a little tantrum about it all, last night.  But this morning, I am back onboard and ready to paint.  So this train is moving forward, red stairs or not.

Originally published at American Family. Please leave any comments there.

I do believe all the socializing last week made me sick.  Either that, or I caught the Cold of Doom from my niece at one of the birthday parties.   I feel like crap.  I have had a kink in my neck for the last two weeks.  And L, the world’s slowest teether has been bitching about two new molars for the last two weeks so my sleep has been spotty.

In other news, Mr. A applied for the jobs last night. 

Now, we wait. 

This is one of those times when I wish Mr. A had a much less impressive resume and far fewer professional connections.  For most people, the job Mr. A applied for would be a pie-in-the-sky kind of dream job.  For Mr. A, it is just one more impressive and important job to add to his resume.   Once he decided to apply, I believe he has talked to no less than ten different people working for the organization in question, all of whom have some kind of personal stake/interest in helping him get hired. 

We have no idea what the timeline will be for finding out if he gets an interview.

Originally published at American Family. Please leave any comments there.

This week, Mr. A and I have had a few conversations about the traditions and rituals we want to create for our family.  We both believe creating rituals will help connect us as a family, as well as reinforcing the values and traditions we want to pass on to the girls.  My family did a good job at creating family traditions as we were growing up.   Mr. A’s not so much.

When we were talking about how we want to celebrate Chinese New Year, Mr. A only had some vague memories to draw on.  That means we are pretty much making it up as we go along.   This is the first year we are taking it a little more seriously than we have in the past, because M is probably old enough to start forming memories.  Now is as good a time as any, I guess.  That being said, obviously we aren’t experts on CNY traditions.

This is a picture of the good luck (I think) banner things we hung on the door.  When my MIL saw them last weekend, she said “OH! Now people will know a Chinese person lives here!”  I am not sure if she meant that as a good thing or a bad thing.  Usually, we prefer the banners with the chubby babies, but we got to the store too late and they were sold out.

(Our door is actually more red than pink.  the flash just makes it look very mauve.)

Despite all my smart-assed comments about white people dressing their kids in Chinese traditional clothing, this is what the girls were wearing today.  It was totally by coincidence that I realized we had new outfits for both of them and Mr. A thought it would be fun if they dressed up.  M’s is from her dance recital last year, which she didn’t attend because we were in China.  L’s outfit was originally given to M by Mr. A’s aunt, I think, but she never wore it.   Both girls liked wearing the outfits, though L slid off her chair at dinner due to the silky pants and bumped herself pretty hard.

Mr. A took off from work early to come home and make dinner.  His Chinese cooking skills are usually far superior to mine.  We didn’t have a real feast because it was just the four of us, but he made long life noodles, bean sprouts and baby bok choy.  L scarfed up the noodles like a girl who hasn’t been fed in a week.  She seriously loves Chinese food.  I forgot to take a picture of dinner, but for dessert we had mochi instead of nian gao (basically because it is a little bit yummier).  L loved the mochi and kept stealing them off the table when we weren’t looking.

After dinner, we all read this book together.  M liked it.  L was not at all interested and used our distractedness to try to swipe more mochi.

Then, M got to work making some ghost money.  The ancestors will be living large now, because she drew two thousand-dollar bills featuring Blue and Magenta from Blue’s Clues.  We each lit three sticks of incense, I think because three is a lucky number.  But also, because we have ancestors in three families: mine, Mr. A’s, and L’s family.  We each sent our prayers/wishes to heaven with the incense and burned the spirit money. 

Then, Mr. A and I gave the girls their hongbao.  We asked M say Gong Xi Fa Cai! and bow, which she did.  That was basically how we celebrated Chinese New Year tonight.  We wanted firecrackers, but apparently they are illegal and thus unavailable in our state at this time of  year.  Next year, we will have to pick some up around the forth of july and hoard them until CNY.

 (This photo and the reading one were reinacted for your blog-reading pleasure.)

Originally published at American Family. Please leave any comments there.

Every two or three months, it occurs to me to look at our finances*.  This occurance is usually followed by several days of me freaking out, swearing to never shop or eat out again.  I also spend those days following Mr. A around saying things like “You are spending too much money on your work lunches! Take leftovers!  It is crazy to spend so much on lunches!”

In my imagination, I budget about $100 a week for groceries and $50 per week for eating out.  Looking at our expenses since mid-november, we have spend 1.5 times as much on groceries and about twice as much as my imaginary eating out budget.   Seriously, it is appalling how much money has been wasted.

Money (or rather fear of a lack of money) is a huge trigger for me.  When I was young and both my parents were in college, things were very tight for us.   It was only when I was in Jr. High and High School that money was no long a huge point of stress for my parents.  It made a big impression on me.  I have always had an irrational fear of debt.  Even “good debt” like our grad school loans is like a monkey on my back (and not a cute monkey either…more like a dirty monkey with big teeth and lice that tries to steal your cold can of soda on a hot day).  

Mr. A and I are extremely fortunate that we have a comfortable income.  We save for retirement and our kids education.  We don’t carry debt on our credit card.  In general, we are in pretty good shape.  We should have some money available to put into savings each month, but in all honesty we spend most of what Mr. A brings home.

I know exactly where the problems are.  Mr. A’s lunches out, a few extra meals of take out because I am tired or a luxurious night of sushi here or there add up very quickly.  And a few treats at Trader Joe’s seems to multiply into a $30-$50 dollar bill every time I am there. 

And don’t even get me started on Target.  It practically costs me $100 to walk through those doors. 

I have been on a shopping hiatus since January 1st.  I am trying my hardest not to buy anything unnecessary, in part because I want to use the money we save toward finishing the basement**.  I managed to walk out of Target today only purchasing diapers and birthday party invitations, but it nearly killed me.  “Good deals” were practically jumping off the shelves into my cart, which is ridiculous because there isn’t anything we really need.

I hadn’t included food or eating out in my shopping hiatus plans, but I think I probably should.

The current hard look at the finances is particularly difficult because of the moving discussion.  The job Mr. A wants would mean a pay cut of about 1/5th of his salary.  AND it would require that we move to a much more expensive city.  If necessary, I can always work.  Given my nonprofit salary, I don’t know if it would really be that profitable if we are paying bigger city prices for childcare.  I am also quite concerned about the possibility that we could lose money if we sell our house now.  Zillow says we shouldn’t, but who can say in this market? 

So anyway, the shopping hiatus continues.  The only exception is home-repair purchases and those aren’t even the slightest bit enjoyable for me.  (Seriously, buying ceiling grid is not my idea of a good time.)  We need to stick it out long enough for this to become a better habit.

*As I have discussed before, Mr. A manages the bills because when I manage them my anxiety level is just too high for us to function in a happy way.

**Which will hopefully make the house more desirable so it doesn’t sit on the market for a hundred years, even if it doesn’t add much to the price.

Originally published at American Family. Please leave any comments there.

Conversations I have had with Mr. A in the not-to-distant past:

Attempt #1: Mr. A: Once the kids get older, would you consider moving to Washington/Chicago/back to San Francisco, if I got an amazing job?

Mr. A: Once the kids get older, would you consider moving to Washington/Chicago/back to San Francisco, if I got an amazing job?Me: No.  Can you pass the ketchup?

Attempt #2: Mr. A:  After I make partner, if I get offered a job doing XYZ working for a company like ABCD, do you think I should take the job?

Mr. A:  After I make partner, if I get offered a job doing XYZ working for a company like ABCD, do you think I should take the job?Me: Would it mean we have to move?  If so, I would say NO.

Attempt #3: Mr. A: If I got a job at the White House, would you move to Washington DC?

Mr. A: If I got a job at the White House, would you move to Washington DC?Me: No.  And if you are going to get that job, we may as well file for divorce right now, because White House lawyers work so much I would never see you anyway. 

Wash, Rinse, Repeat.

In the past 4 years, we have had the above conversations about 5,000 times.  Every time the topic of needing to move for Mr. A’s career came up, I immediately said no and closed the subject. 

That makes me sound rather bitchy, no?

There is a little history behind it.  When we lived in San Francisco when M was a wee babe, Mr. A was a crappy father and an even worse partner to me.  He had a particularly abusive boss at a really evil Firm who asked him to do ridiculous amounts work in very short periods of time.  Mr. A also used to have a very difficult time setting appropriate boundaries with his job.   As in, he left the hospital 2 hours after M was born to go to the office.  (Seriously, he will be hearing about that poor judgement at M’s 50th birthday party because I have still not forgotten it.)  He was also averaging about 80-100 hours a week in the office while M was 1, 2 and 3 months old and I was still trying to finish the last of my grad school classes.

When we moved back to the Midwest, the decision was mine.  Mr. A was no help with the baby. NONE.  Also, besides paying the bills, he was not supporting me at all.  I believe the deciding conversation went something like this:  ”I am moving back to the Midwest with or without you.  I need help, you aren’t providing it, so I need to live near my parents.  If your job is so important, you can stay.  If you want to be a part of this family, you know where to find us.”  

Needless to say, Mr. A came with us.  In the years since then, he has grown into one of the very best fathers and husbands I know.  Things have changed dramatically, which means the importance of external family support for us to be successful/happy parents has decreased significantly (though still very desirable).

So when it started to become clear that Mr. A is probably going leave his current job, he started talking about his options.  In those conversations, I realized that if we stay here, his best career option is to continue in his current job.  This job is a bad fit and will inevitably nibble holes in his psyche if he stays there for the next 35 years. 

I like his psyche without holes, thank you very much, so I put all options on the table including moving.  Once Mr. A provided information about his dream career trajectory, it seemed reasonable enough even though it required a move.  It also seemed like this next job will be a huge investment in his future career (which also happens to pay my bills), so it may be worth a few sacrifices.

So now, the ball is in Mr. A’s court.  He is researching all his options, but the responsibility of this decision is weighing heavily on him.  I can see it in his eyes. 

Well, that and in the way he keeps walking around muttering ”Man, this is a really difficult decision!”

Tonight, I asked him why it is such a difficult decisions when he has been campaigning for this very thing for so long.  He said, “Well, before it was all just fantasy.  I always knew you would say no.   Now that you are onboard, the decision is real.  Now I have to consider more than just convincing you to say OK.” 

So the struggle is now between Mr. A and himself.  Since he is a lawyer, both sides of him are making pretty solid arguments.  I have no idea which way he will go.

We should have a decision and a plan in place by the end of the week.

Originally published at American Family. Please leave any comments there.

Since we adopted L and the shock of baby jail passed, life has been good.  We have a lovely white pickett fence life.  We live in the suburbs.  We have pretty much every thing we want or need.  We live near our extended families, who happen to love our girls and give us time off when we need it.  We have a nice circle of friend whose families have a lot in common with ours.  We love the little community where we live and the bigger city offers pretty much every thing our hearts desire (especially now that we have a good Banh Mi restaurant).

So here we are, living the American Dream.  

Despite our overwelming contentment, in the past year, both Mr. A and I have spent a lot of time looking around and saying “Is this it?  Is this interesting enough?  Will we be living this same thing every day for the rest of our lives?”

It isn’t that it is a BAD life.  Really, it is a charmed life.  But when we look into our future, another 35 years* of living the same thing day in and day out frightens both of us. 

Despite the general contentment, something has still been missing.   I have made no secret about my need for something interesting to look forward too.  I had a some potentially exciting prospects:  Earlier in the year, there was a teeny, tiny chance that we could get sent to China for Mr. A’s job which led to a flurry of hoping and research.  Then, when that fell through, Mr. A and I decided that we wanted to go take a year off and live in China anyway** which led to a lot of excitement  and planning.  At best these plans were an attempt to distract us from our fears and to buy us some space to figure out what we really want to do.

Despite my excitement about China, it is starting to look like we need to figure out things here first. 

I started to see the real problem when we went to Mr. A’s work Christmas party this year.  It is a long story (and not at all interesting) but when we walked out of there, I was convinced he is going to change jobs sooner than our trip to China.  Some other things happened recently, which have made me even more convinced that Mr. A is a bad fit for his current job. 

It isn’t that he works at a bad company, or that Mr. A isn’t great at what he does (really, he is.).   It is just becoming increasingly apparent that Mr. A is never going to achieve his full work-potential at his current job because of the bad fit.  A huge part of Mr. A’s self-satisfaction comes from being a impressive achiever, so we see that this is going to be a bit of a problem.

So after a lot of discussion, Mr. A and I have decided to put a variety of options on the table, most of which could change Mr. A’s entire career trajectory.***  The most surprising option I have agreed to is the possibility of moving to another city**** for a period of time, fully acknowledging that we can’t know how long it would be or if we would ever come back.  There are other options closer to home, too. 

I know this probably makes for some pretty boring reading, but it is a big shake-up around here.  When we moved home, we planned on moving for good or at the very least while our kids are young.  We are standing at a big fork in the road and I have no idea which way we will turn. 

In a way, I am scared of both options.  I am scared that we will be trapped living the same life forever.  On the other hand, I am afraid that if things change, we will be leaving behind the best life we have ever had. 

There are no easy answers, we just have to figure it out and hope for the best.

 ____________________________________________________________________________

*35 years is how long Mr. A expects to work before he has accumulated what he deems an adequate amount of retirements savings.  He revises that to maybe 32.5 years if I work full-time at my maximum earning capacity every year between now and then.  heh. 

**That was the Next Big Thing, which a number of you guessed anyway.  We were planning to go in Fall of 2009 and Mr. A was going to ask for a leave of absence from work and return to the same company when we got back. 

***The China trip is now on the back burner. Part of my need to go for such a long period of time and so quickly was the looming possiblity that Mr. A could be trapped at his current job where he can not get more than 2 weeks off at a stretch at any point in the next 35 years.  Travel is a huge priority of mine, so I found that possibilty to seriously restrictive.  If Mr. A is going on a different career path, we will have the option of scheduling extended trips before he starts a new position at a new company every few years.  Despite my previous excitement, I am not at all upset about tabling that trip for now.

****I have full veto power on the locations and the only contenders at the moment are Chicago, Washington D.C. and the Bay Area.  San Francisco has been on and off my list about 5 times in the past 24 hours because it is so far away from our family.  DC is my lowest preference of the three.  I guess that leaves Chicago at the top, but getting lost a thousand times certainly didn’t lead me to feelings of love for the windy city.  Also, Chicago is kind of an ugly city: dirty and industrial.

Originally published at American Family. Please leave any comments there.

So. I don’t know who couldn’t see that coming.

Mr. A went with M and my mom (and various other relatives) to the “Jesus Play” at the Megachurch.  As he was pulling out of the parking lot he called me ranting about it.  I believe some of the statements he was making were: “You mom wants to make up for not giving your any religion by reparenting with our kids!”;  “That play was kind  of racist.  Your mom saw this last year and she thinks a group of Asian kids singing about how they see Jesus with an Asian face isn’t WEIRD?” and “It wasn’t even just a Christmas play.  They showed the crucifiction! M was totally freaked out by watching a guy get killed!  Who thinks that is appropriate for a four year old??”  Mr. A also took exception with my mom’s saying “Well, at least M knows the story of Jesus now.”

After a bit of time to chill out, we had a more rational conversation. 

My mom and I had a fight this summer about a Jesus book she was reading to M.  Mr. A had let me have the fight with no backup from him, even though we both agree that religious instruction is a parent’s role, not the grandparents.  Because Mr. A was such a pussy this summer avoiding that fight, he is now going to have to face the music and deal with this head on with my mother. That will not be fun.

Mr. A is now convinced that we have to fill the religous vacuum so that my mom will not feel it is her job to provide religion.  He also thinks it would be good for the girls to grow up in a religious community of some sort.  He wants to try going to church somewhere we mutually agree on once a month.

This is a problem because Mr. A and I have very different religious beliefs.  Last night, we sat down and both took the Belief-o-matic to see if there was any common ground. 

My top 11 results:

Mr. A’s top 10 results:

It looks like a UU church might be ok for both of us based on the test, but in reality, we both have problems with it.  I have been to a local UU church a few times with a friend and I found it almost entirely white.   Mr. A has particular issues with the high hippie ratio and doesn’t want to be a token for a bunch of uber-liberal diversity seekers. (He is imagining either two-handed, too-long welcoming handshakes or even worse: hugs.)  If we found a congregation with decent diversity, I do really like the idea of a UU church because the kids would almost certainly grow up to be good liberals (as are Mr. A and myself). Also, the sex ed girl in me really likes the idea of the UU sex ed program for teens.  That hardly seems like a good reason to go to a UU church though.  Mr. A also finds the lack of Jesus and the bible at the congregation I attended to be a bit troublesome.

As for the liberal quakers, we only know one Quaker.  We attended her wedding and we both found it to be a bit…odd.  It might be worth considering trying to find a local congregation to try once or twice, but I have heard that a lot of the Quakers in our area are programmed meetings and pretty evangelical (according to the Quaker friend) and I don’t think this is what the Belief-o-matic was referring to.

This leaves us with another unsatisfactory option.  Mr. A could take the girls to a Christian church and I could try to find someplace of my own (buddhist temple or something?) and eventually bring the girls.  That just sounds like a colossal pain in the ass, since I don’t really care that much about finding religion.  On the other hand, I don’t want the girls going exculsively to a Christian church because I don’t believe in it. 

Also, there is the question of which Christian church Mr. A would attend.  He is prone to choose the Chinese church, but I am adamently opposed.  The local Chinese church is very, very evangelical.  It’s theology isn’t at all in line with Mr. A’s Liberal Protestant results, he would just choose it because it is convenient.  Another option is Mr. A attending church with a friend of ours who goes to a United Church of Christ church that sounds very liberal.

I am kind of hoping Mr. A just loses interest.  We already spend 3 hours at Chinese school on Sundays and church sounds like a huge pain.  Also, I don’t know how we would manage church with two little kids.  There is no way that L could go to a nursery without us and I think it might wig M out a little too.  It seems unfair to ask such small children to sit still quietly for over an hour at a time. 

Honestly, I just don’t care about religion.  Maybe I would if I started going somewhere, but I kind of doubt it. 

Originally published at American Family. Please leave any comments there.

Today, Mr. A is taking M to see a christmas play with my parents.  In the past year, there has been a bit of tension between my parents and me because they have been reading her a Jesus book and talking to her off and on about God (for the record, something I can never really remember them doing with me).  They (my mom, really) think they have a right to share their beliefs with her.  I think we (her parents) have the right to decide what kind of religious exposure our children receive.

I was very loosely raised Christian.  I went to church with my grandparents most weeks (I now believe so my parents could have sex on sunday mornings) until I was about 10 years old.   My mom had a nativity thing at our house, we owned bibles, etc.  There wasn’t much praying or any other religiousity going on at our house.  When I got older, I realized that I just don’t believe in any of it.  While I believe that a man named Jesus may have existed, I don’t buy that he was the son of God.  I don’t know if I even think there is a God anyway.  I tried on the idea of being a Christian, especially when I spent two and half years working in churches, but it just didn’t fit for me.

If forced to stake my own personal beliefs on a religious tradition, they are probably closest to Buddhism, though I have never formally studied that either.   I believe in karma and reincarnation.  I believe, vaguely, in Nirvana or some other place your soul goes once you have evolved and learned what you are supposed to know from this world.  Mostly, I am just not religious.

So, I am not a Christian.  But I do enjoy Christian traditions like Christmas and Easter when they are stripped of all religious imagery.  That is, I like the Easter bunny and I like Santa and the Christmas tree.  Our christmas tree is decorated with lots of santas and jingle bells, a few angels that I received as a child, and other random ornaments.  No baby Jesuses, no star or angel at the top, no nativity.   At Easter, we are all baskets and dyed eggs.  No crucifiction, rising from the dead, no Jesus.

Mr. A says he is a Christian, but there is little evidence of that in his daily life.  He doesn’t go to church.  He doesn’t read a bible.  I don’t know if he prays.   He claims he wanted to be a preacher at one point in his life, but given his current non-religiousness, I find that mind-boggling. 

So anyway, my parents asked to take M to a see a christmas play at a local megachurch, which they do not attend.  (Megachurches are a big thing here, there is one about every mile or so.)  The play has live camels, so M wants to go.  Mr. A is quite concerned that our kids get exposed to his idea of the “right” Christian theology (something he can’t articulate when I ask, but he claims he knows what it isn’t when he sees it), so he has been elected to go moderate M’s intake of camels, wisemen, virgin births and mangers. 

I suppose it is no big deal.  I wouldn’t mind if she was going to any other religion’s event.  For some reason, though, I feel like Christianity is going to be so shoved down her throat via popular culture anyway, I don’t need to facilitate any more exposure.  This is an area that has not been much of an issue for Mr. A and myself so far, but I wonder if it might end up turning into something as the girls get older. 

Originally published at American Family. Please leave any comments there.

I am not a mushy person. I lean more toward sarcasm than sentimentalism.  I don’t write “Things I Am Thankful For” posts at Thanksgiving.  I don’t wax poetic about my gushy love for my daughters or my husband.   I don’t often talk about how lucky I feel to be living this life.  I am cringing at this rare exception before I even write it.

Once, many moons ago, I was trying desperately to not fall in love with Mr. A. 

I had lost my previous serious boyfriend to suicide.  I had only just begun to gather up the pieces and move on.  Mr. A was leaving for China to teach English for a year.  If ever there was a recipe for a relationship to be avoided, it was Mr. A and me at that point in time.

But as hard as I tried, Mr. A was worming his way into my heart.  We spent a few lovely and angsty weeks together before he left.  When it was time to say goodbye, I had steeled myself in preparation.  After losing someone so close, goodbyes and being left behind were two of my biggest fears.  I tried to be stoic.  We hugged and I drove away.

Only, I didn’t.  I drove around the block and sat watching Mr. A pack the last of his things into his car.  Finally, he drove away.  I assumed that was the last I would hear from him for a long time, or maybe forever.  I was used to being left behind wishing for one more moment or one more message.

A few hours later, I was sitting morosely in my apartment when I heard a knock on the door.  When I opened it, there was Mr. A looking rather sheepish. 

“I can’t go yet.”  he said “We need another night.” 

His plane was leaving early the next morning from a city two hours away, but we stayed up late laughing and relieved to have a little more time.  The next morning, we said goodbye again, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as the day before.

That knock on the door was the beginning of the rest of our lives together.   

I believe that one moment can change a life.  That knock on the door changed mine.  When Mr. A came back, it was exactly the right thing at exactly the right time.  It gave me hope that my earlier premonition that Mr. A was The One might be possible, even as our lives were heading in opposite directions on opposite sides of the world.

Ever since that moment, whenever I am in doubt, the right choice has always been to close my eyes, push in all my chips and leap — as long as Mr. A is by my side.  Our fates are entertwined, for better or worse.  I couldn’t be luckier if I tried.

Originally published at American Family. Please leave any comments there.

Before I get started, let me warn the squidgy among you (as well as relatives of Mr. A and/or myself):  This is a possible TMI alert.  Read on at your own risk.

Mr. A and I are big proponents of Whatever Works parenting ™.  One of the things that has worked really well with both girls as babies is co-sleeping.  Currently, L is sleeping in a twin bed pushed up against my side of our queen bed.  Over the next few months, her bed will be inched further and further away until we eventully move it into M’s room.

Having a baby sharing our bed/bedroom acts as a pretty decent deterrent for (ahem) marital relations.  Actually, the exhaustion and sleep deprivation that comes with a new baby is another huge deterrent too. 

Anyway, while there is a baby there the (ahem) marital relations can not and do not take place in our bedroom.  Unfortunately, we do not have a guest room or a spare bedroom set up in our house.  This has led to some, shall we say, creative uncomfortable locations for the (ahem) relations.  In case you are wondering, hardwood floors are…well, HARD.

This weekend, we had a friend and her son staying with us.  We set her up on an airmattress that we borrowed from my parents.  The first evening, the airmattress unfortunately deflated in the middle of the night.  The next day, we were trying to figure out to set up a bed that night.  We had decided to use the couch cushions to make a bed. 

Later that day, we were discussion how children destroy nice furniture.  I mentioned that we needed our couches re-upholstered.  I also said that it was going to be a battle to convince Mr. A to not throw them away.  He thinks the big couch is very uncomfortable because it has a fold-out bed in it.

THE COUCH HAS A FOLD-OUT BED IN IT.

In the nine months L has slept in our bedroom, it never occured to either of us that there was a BED in the sofa.

Nine months and it never once occured to us that we could have (ahem) marital relations in an almost-bed instead of pseudo-teenage on the couch/on the floor nookie.

This is what happens to your brain when you have children.  They make you stupid.

/TMI