Archive | June, 2011

Dear AT&T

29 Jun

Dear AT&T-

I will be gracing one of your locations this afternoon around 3pm. I suggest you start puckering now.

I have been a faithful customer of yours for four years. That’s only slightly shorter than my relationship to my husband. And by far the longest relationship I’ve had with a cell phone carrier by far.
I love your coverage. Thanks to you, dear AT&T, I have multiple bars of reception in the deepest, darkest corners of Meijer and Walmart. An almost superhuman feat.

I’m more than satisfied with my plan and service, but THIS $*@+ PHONE HAS GOT TO GO!


When I got this phone it was described to me by the salesman as one of the best, fastest and most reliable phones we carry.”

Sir, you were full of shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiz.

The very night said pos (as in pieceS of shiz. B got the same phone.) we spent hours on the phone with customer service trying to figure out some kinks with the phones. It was our first night alone with them so I figured it was just user error.

In the less than 12 months we’ve had these phones we’ve been at dear AT&T for:
-phone freezes
-new sim cards
-phones randomly turning off

All extremely annoying things that have not been fixed.

Now my phone is
-not receiving texts
-or phone calls
-or voicemails until hours if not a day later
not connecting to the internet
     When I have service
     Am connected to 3G
     Am paying for internet
without a functioning alarm clock.
And my personal favorite!

Please tell me what the point of having a phone is if I can’t make or receive calls and texts or access twitter, facebook and this here blog (despite apps for all of the above) AND PAYING A FAIR CHUNK OF CHANGE FOR IT?!?!?!

So I will be in a store yet again complaining and seeking answers. And possibly a brand spanking new phone.

Let the puckering begin.

AT&T, you’ve been warned!


Five Finger Fridays

24 Jun

It’s Friday! Woohoo!
That means it’s time to focus on the good in my life. It’s so easy for me to get so wrapped up in all the drama and crap in my life that I forget to see the good things.

We FINALLY got some rain here in the mitten! My flowers and grass are loving the rain. And I’m loving the cooler temperatures.

I’m incredibly thankful my hand isn’t broken. It got slammed in a door, swelled up in a matter of moments and there was something sticking out of it. Yeah, it was gross.

I’m supremely thankful for the support system my mom and sisters have. I love and appreciate the positive influence and male role models who have become a vital part of our lives and filled a void. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

I’m über thankful for my sister Abigail and her 19 years in my life. Happy birthday, Abbey. I looooove you!

This one is bittersweet. I’m glad no one can see me while I type this.
I’m thankful for the 23 years I was blessed with having Gram in my life. I’m thankful your pain and suffering are over. I’m thankful you’re able to be with Grandpa after 20+ years apart. I like to think you have an oven that’s always preheated to the perfect temperature, a piano that’s always perfectly in tune and an endless supply of pink peppies.
Two years ago today you went to Paradise. I miss you everyday. I’m thankful that you were such a huge influence in my life. I love you Gram!


And that’s what I’m thankful for this week.

What are you thankful for this week?

#Mamavation Mondays

19 Jun

Holy canoli. It’s Sunday night again. I cannot believe how quickly weekends go!

I’m pretty excited for this weeks blogging carnival is sponsored by Joggermom. I’m pretty excited about this week’s prompt.

Please BRAG.  What accomplishment have you done recently that brings a smile to your face?

I walked to my car Friday after work and I lost my pants.

Seriously, I legit lost my pants.

They were around my ankles.

I wish I could have seen the look on my face. 

I had my giant Mary Poppins purse in one hand and my computer bag in the other. I could feel my pants sliding down. And then they were gone.

Thankfully I was wearing cute undies!

Last summer I had issues buttoning and zipping these pants.

Please ignore the lack of make-up and my hair not being done. 🙂

Yep. *I* did that! You may refer to me as Her Badass-ness. 

AND I ran today just for kicks and giggles.

Next thing I knew it was 45 mins later and I was still feeling pretty good.

Why yes! I am now accepting medals and accolades. 


This post is sponsored by Joggermom and I’m writing this to be entered into a yoga mat giveaway hosted by Mamavation .

Five Finger Friday

17 Jun

No, I’m not a closet klepto. No, not that either!

Whenever my Mom heard me talking smack about myself she would make me say five nice things about myself. One for each finger. And she would sit there until I said all five. Out loud. Seriously.

I’m putting a little different spin on it.

I feel like this blog has become a place to bitch about being infertile and overweight. While I’m taking steps to change those two things, there is more to my life.

And that thankful tab I have is getting pretty neglected…

Starting today, Fridays  will have five things in my life I’m thankful for. Thankful Thursday would have been catchier, but this idea came to me while I was brushing my teeth this morning. Random, but that’s me! 🙂

So here it is, my first installment of Five Finger Fridays. Woooo!

I’m thankful for Brian. He came to my defense this week when someone crossed the line. I’ve never seen B angry, but he was PISSED. Surprised me a little, but I loved it. He’s my Prince Charming and knight in shining armor all rolled in to one. Swoon!

I’m thankful for my SIL Lacey. While this whole separation business sucks ass, Lacey has been an AMAZING support to me. Whoda thunk one separation would bring two other people together?

I hit EVERY SINGLE LIGHT green this morning on my way to work. How can I not be thankful about that? Especially when the person in front of my was ordering coffee for the ENTIRE office…

I’m very thankful for all the people I’ve connected with on twitter recently. The network of women who are incredibly supportive in this whole infertility circus who I’ve never met blows. Me. Away.

Last but not least… drum roll please!

I’m thankful for my oldest little sister Melissa who turns 22 today! Holy crap! If she’s 22, that makes me… old. Happy Birthday, Melissa. You’ve blossomed this past year into a fabulous woman who is coming into her own. Happy Birthday, Melmore. I love you!

And that’s what I’m thankful for this week.

Putting It All Out There

13 Jun

I’m trying to lose weight and get healthy. 

People on twitter know this, but not a whole lot of people I’ve met in real life know what I’m trying to do.

My mom and sisters know.

And that’s about it.

I’m too scared to say it out loud.

Because I’m absolutely terrified I’m going to fail.

I’m not sharing my ups and downs because I’m afraid someone is going to throw it in my face. It’s happened before. Once burned, twice shy.

I’m afraid of not living up to people’s expectations.

My own expectations most of all.

I know I’m wonderfully and fearfully made, that I’m not like anyone else, but there are moments I wish I was.

I wish I had self-control and discipline.

I wish I didn’t have the damn insulin resistance and PCOS.

And the thing that holds me back the most and pisses me off the most?

My brother is losing weight.


And I’m afraid I won’t be able to keep up with him.

I’m afraid I won’t get the positive reinforcement I SO desperately need because it is so difficult for me to lose weight.

know how dumb that is for me to think.

I want to bitch slap myself.

In my head I know no one is going to compare me to my brother.

But *I* am.

I know I shouldn’t.

I realize we’re two completely different people.

With different goals.



I can’t get my heart on the same level.

The distance between my head and heart can be so incredibly far sometimes.


I’m not doing this for recognition.

I’m doing it to get HEALTHY.

I’m doing it for me.

For my future family with B.

So, I’m going to put it out there.

I’m actually going to talk about it with friends and family.

I’m going to put it all out on facebook for people I know in real life to see.

I will not be my own worst enemy anymore.

I will not wimp out.

I will do this in my own time.

I will be supported and loved every step of the way.

Most importantly,

I will be successful.

#Mamavation Monday

12 Jun

How often do you and your family eat meals together and get active together?

B, my mom, my four sisters and I attended a wedding last night. The reception was a family style dinner and it was awesome! We got to pick from several different things and had great food and conversation. I kind of felt bad for the two random people who got stuck with us. 

Growing up, we ate dinner together every night. Without fail. All six of us.

I didn’t appreciate it then, but I do now.

Now B and I eat whatever is easy to make in front of the tv. We have a beautiful dining room table and I can count on one hand the number of times we’ve eaten there.

I was active in high school. I played indoor and outdoor soccer up until I graduated. Now, not so much. B plays softball during the summer and basketball over the winter. And there is NO way I’d suggest co-ed softball. B is waaaaaaaay too competitive for my taste. 

I use my treadmill a few times a week, but we’re not active together. Well, we are, but I’m not going there. 🙂 

B’s competitive streak isn’t the only thing that keeps us from being active together.

I’m embarrassed by my lack of stamina and physical abilities. 

Being fat holds me back from a lot of things.  B would never make fun of me for my lack of abilities, but I’m still afraid to do things in front of him. When I work out, I prefer to do it when I’m home alone. If B is home, I have to shut the door and I’m not entirely comfortable working out. I really don’t want my husband to see we huffing and puffing and sweating like a whore in church. Not attractive.

This post is sponsored by Together Counts and I’m writing this to be entered into a Qlip Any-where Pedometer giveaway hosted by Mamavation .

#Mamavation Mondays

6 Jun

I am a beast among other things…humble and modest not being two of them.

Saturday something crawled up my butt. I’m still not sure what it was. It was so far up there it has yet to make an appearance still! I had my panties in a royal twist. I was tired. I was cranky. I was in a mood. Work wasn’t exactly spectacular. When the power goes out in 80 degree weather, it’s never a good thing!  I just wanted to get home where there were no work responsibilities and air conditioning.

B was out golfing when I got home which was probably a good thing for him. My fuse was so short I KNOW I would have said or done something crappy I’d seriously regret later. I was home and pissed at the world. I needed to do something with all my negative energy.

So I jumped on the treadmill. Walking wasn’t doin it for me. I was just too pissed off for whatever reason so I kicked it up a knotch.

I ran

For 5 miles.


Yes, this is where the Holy shit! goes.

B and friend came home just as I was doing a cool down walk. And they scared the living crap out of me. If my legs didn’t feel like rubber I would have kicked some serious booty. I scare VERY easily, you’d think by the 6,515,682th time scaring the crap out of me (only literally once) would lose some of its appeal… Payback is a you-know-what and both guys admitted 5miles was more than they would do at once. Ha! There’s that pesky lack of humility and modesty again!

After a much needed shower and a nap I was ready to roll. B and I met up with some friends and spent the rest of the night at a festival downtown walking around, laughing and having a grand old time.

I haven’t been as on point with my nutrition and exercise as I could, should and have been, but the high I got this weekend has kicked me in to high gear. I think I need to get pissed off more often!


What gaps in your nutrition knowledge do you want to fill?

I would love to know more about what I should be eating to help keep my Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS) under control. There is just SO MUCH information out there. And not all of it is the same. My doctor isn’t particularly or at all helpful in what I could be doing differently. I want to be healthy and do what’s best for my body. I’m so confused by all the conflicting information. I’d love a nutritionally balanced personal meal plan. And a personal grocery shopper and chef wouldn’t be too bad either!

**This post is sponsored by Omron Healthcare and I’m writing to be entered into a Omron Fo Smart pedometer giveaway hosted by Mamavation.**


I wish the dentist was more like the gyno.

3 Jun

I went to the dentist this week for a filling, had my bite adjusted and to get molds taken for a bite guard. I’m mean to my teeth. I find myself almost constantly clenching my teeth. It’s a completely subconscious thing. It’s worse when I sleep. I sound like I’m chewing rocks…when I’m not talking in my sleep. B really hit the jackpot with me! I don’t know how that poor man gets any sleep.

I’m a fan of my dentist. She’s the only dentist I’ve ever had. She’s a very nice woman…when she doesn’t have something in my mouth. All the drilling and grinding and sharp, scary looking tools freak me out. Seriously, have you looked at one of those sharp scraping things? Scary! And they look even more menacing when that bright light that shines in your face reflects off of it. Be still my heart. It’s a good thing they don’t take my blood pressure there!

I love my dentist but she doesn’t tell me what the hell she’s doing in there. All I hear is the drilling and grinding and scraping. It. Freaks. Me. Out.

I don’t enjoy going to the gyno either. My first pelvic exam scarred me for life. My doctor was male. Why are men vagina doctors? They don’t and can’t understand menstrual cramps, chocolate cravings and the all important flow/color of pants ratio!  A balding male. I swear he buffed his head every morning. His head was HIGHLY reflective. I could see EVERYTHING! There are things I now know about myself that I wish I could forget! The gyno has some pretty scary instruments, too.  The first time I saw a speculum I thought I was going to pass out. That’s big ass thing is going up WHERE?!?!

Scarring moments, large instruments up my ba-jingo and male pattern baldness aside, the gyno does have one thing going for them that Dr. Dentist doesn’t. As much as I wish they would just shut up and get it over with, they always tell me what they’re going before they do it and why. You’re going to feel me touch. It’s just my hand. It better just be your hand! There are times I could do without the play-by-play of my personal vagina monologues, but it’s nice to know what’s going on (and in, haha) down there.

I wish the dentist would do the same thing. I would appreciate knowing what you’re using, doing and why.  I’d like to know what the hell you’re doing to my teeth that sounds so god-awful. It would really help my anxiety level. The stuff the dentist gives me makes me loopy enough, adding Xanax to that didn’t seem like such a good idea…

If the gyno ever brings out power tools for my ba-jingo, I’m out. There’s a time and place for those and lying on an uncomfortable, paper covered table wearing a frumpy hospital gown. I wouldn’t mind a compliment on my most recent vajazzling, though. 

I am woman, hear me bitch.

1 Jun

For Memorial Day Brian, his brothers, their wives and the best man in our wedding, Dave and his wife Shelley all went to Don and Margrit’s new house for a cook out.  It was a genuinely good day. It was the stuff of Memorial Day legends are made of. Lots of fun, lots of food, lots of quality time, lots of good conversation.

After eating the oh so manly men ended up in the living room watching some sporting event and the ladies were outside enjoying the gorgeous weather and talking like ladies have a tendency to do.

After struggling with infertility Shelley is pregnant.

I’m dealing with infertility.

BIL/SIL numero uno are thinking about trying to get pregnant.

Naturally, we had lots of questions.

Shelley was very open and willing to share their experiences and heartbreaks with infertility and their extreme joy in finally getting pregnant.

Shelley, SIL  and I sat and talked about all our infertility woes, the heartbreak of one line on the pregnancy test, all the meds, the doctor’s appointments, PMS and a whole host of other female things for I don’t even know how long. I learned a lot. I felt like I bonded with them. It gave me hope to know that an infertility diagnosis can have a happy ending.

SIL number 2 didn’t exactly feel the same way.

When it was just the two of us, SIL 2 made a comment that really irritated me.

Really IRRITATES me.


Days later.

I just can’t let it go.

I might be oversensitive.  Might and oversensitive may be understatements. The comment was about how much she hated hearing the vagina monologues. How we should just get over it. How it makes her feel weird.

Despite my probable potential hypersensitivity, I should not be made to feel ashamed or feel badly about what is going on with my body.

Infertility is a prettttty significant part of my life right now. My diagnosis isn’t just about ability to have or not have biological children. It affects (Effects? I never flipping know…) so much more than my lady bits. I will forever be on medication to regulate hormone and blood glucose levels so I don’t need liver and pancreas transplants in 20 years. I’d say that’s pretty momentous.

Please forgive me for commiserating with two other women dealing with health issues, infertility issues. You can always walk away from a conversation if you don’t particularly care about what being talked about. I CAN’T walk away from my issues. No matter how much I’d like to for a while.

You have the ability, but not the desire (at the moment) to have kids. There’s nothing wrong with that. I certainly don’t fault you for your choices and decisions.

Don’t you dare give me shit for my frustration in the lack of mine.

Okay, rant over.

To all the men, women, children, families and friends that have made the ultimate sacrifice for my freedom, thank you from the very bottom of my heart. You are much stronger than I could ever be.