Glamor in real life- the rest of the story

My last post was a happy, happy note about my wonderful couple of days away from my stinky dogs and my dirty dishes. But real life, amusing and "glamorous" as ever, still managed to find me. Halfway through the first day, I realized I had forgotten my other pair of shoes, so all I had to wear were my Nike flip flops (reminds me of the time I went to go run a half marathon and forgot my running shoes. True story.) I wasn't sure what my other options would have been anyway, though, because my feet have suddenly decided to gain half a size and render most of my vast collection of shoes unwearable. The first night we went to fancy dinner, I went in my Nike flip flops. Super classy. We walked into this place and I instantly felt like I wasn'anchor enough to eat there, which I would have felt even without the shoe situation. This restaurant was pretty hip. And I'm, well, me. With pregger feet in pink Nike flip flops. Thankfully, as soon as the food came I forgot how uncool I was because I'm pretty sure I had the best thing I've ever eaten in my life. Score one for Courtney. Apologies to all my vegetarian friends. The next day I was determined to purchase shoes that were cute and accommodated my new half-size-bigger feet. I had very specific requirements, and happily, I found the perfect pair. Score two for Courtney. I had a cute outfit picked out and felt much better going into fancy dinner the second night. We ate at the same restaurant we went to the day we got engaged. After dinner, the following conversation took place: Me: "Hey! You need to take my picture!" Confused husband: "Um, ok...... Why?" Me: "Because people have been asking for a preggo pic of me and I finally look cute! My hair and make up are even done- now is the time!!" I felt so good about them I posted them on Facebook. Where hopefully someone somewhere will believe that I look that put together all the time and it's effortless. Yeah. Right.

Glamor in real life

Most of this glamor talk is largely tongue in cheek. But for the last two days, I've gotten to shop, stay at a nice hotel, and eat some pretty fancy meals. Life is going to get crazy, and stressful, and all kinds of other things when baby comes. When that happens (and it's getting pretty close now), it will be nice to look back and have a time in recent history where my husband and I got to have a mini vacation. Happy (belated) anniversary, honey.

Sharing is caring

I am SO happy to have my husband back. But there is a transition that happens and I kind of forget about that part every time he goes and comes back. It takes a bit to transition into him being gone too. You really have to get in the for-the-next-little-while-I'm-responsible-for-everything mode. I don't really want to think about that right now. Back to the point, there's a transition when he comes home. And it makes me feel a little selfish, because it has to do largely with sharing. Apparently not my strong suit. I'll go a month or two (or three) largely doing my own thing. Other than my work schedule, I come and go as I please. I don't have to share the car. I buy only the groceries that I will eat without needing to plan around someone else's meals. Now all of a sudden I have to share the couch and I might be watching something on tv that I didn't pick. And I might have to share my beloved snacks. I wouldn't say these things bother me, just that I notice them. Because even with him home, there are days (like today) where he still has to be gone, and all these little things are so utterly unimportant it's kind of ridiculous.

Happy anniversary

I was determined that today would not be a good day. How could it be? I have a pile of dirty dishes, a stack of dirty laundry, muddy pawprints on a floor that was cleaned yesterday, plus work, and my husband has been away for a month and a half. And today is our three year anniversary.

And then the sun came out. And the positive side of things seemed to come out with it. I got to spend the morning on a beautiful beach, just me and my dogs. My day went by quickly because I stayed busy. My husband will still love me even if there's laundry to do. And he gets home tomorrow, and everything will be better after that. Even on rainy days.

A morning in an empty lot

In the which I throw a rock in the garbage. I had no choice.

It was too gray out this morning to venture very far from the house, so I took the pups up the block to an empty lot to run around for a bit before I went to work. They actually kind of fetched the ball, which of course they never do when we go to the dog park, so they were getting the exercise they needed and I wasn't getting rained on. A pretty good start to the day, everybody happy.

At some point, Dog #2 dashed off after the ball only to flip out over something on the ground I couldn't identify from 100 feet away. I couldn't identify it from 10 feet either. He wouldn't stop barking at whatever it was so I waddled on over best I could, stood over him, and it still took me a minute. I already worry about the brain power of my sweet, adorable Dog #2, but it still surprised me when I realized he was scared of a rock. What appeared to me to be an ordinary, potato sized rock in the middle of the field was somehow a menace to society that Dog #2 determined must be dealt with severely and immediately. And he would accomplish this through intimidation. Which meant lots of barking. Sigh.

So yes, before I went on with my totally glamorous day working as a retail cashier (and on senior discount Tuesday, no less), I got to throw a rock in the trash while my dog barked at it. Because I'm awesome like that.

Adventures with doggies in the nighttime

I have two boxer dogs that I love dearly. One is about a year and half old, the other about year. So they're basically giant puppies. And they provide many, many examples of my totally glamorous life.

About two weeks ago (naturally around midnight because what better time to have an adventure with doggies in the nighttime?), I was letting my dogs out for their final potty of the night when I heard their "I'm hunting something" bark. Fairly similar to their "I've cornered a small dog, you should come get him now" bark, but still distinctive. I pulled on my boots as quickly as I could and headed out to see what the ruckus was all about, because that's exactly what I wanted to do seven months pregnant at midnight. Dog #1 was still barking but Dog #2 apparently had more luck, because he was carrying a possum around in his mouth. Somehow my yelling was correctly interpreted and possum was dropped, left in the yard, and I verbally herded my boys back in the house. Don't be jealous, not everyone gets the opportunity to run around super pregnant in the middle of the night in jammies and rubber boots to yell at their dogs to drop a giant rodent. I hoped possum was only playing dead and not actually dead, and would be gone by the next morning. I was lucky.

My husband misses all the fun stuff.

New blog!

Life is best approached with a sense of humor.

I decided to start fresh with a new blog because it was time for change. I'm at a new place in my life and the idea of dragging my old blog along with me didn't seem right. It was so moody. I don't want to be moody. Plus I recently got a new haircut, so I'm kind of into new right now.

The theme was an easy choice. Life is hard. And so often, especially recently (maybe I'm just getting better at it, in which case, good for me!), I've just had to step back, shake my head, and laugh at myself. Real life has you do and say things you never imagined. Funny things. And if life has been this funny with me, a husband, and two dogs, parenthood is going to be a riot.