Under the Same Sky

For Valentine's Day, my parents gave me a pair of jeans that fit, five bucks and a few hours of babysitting so that I could go on a date with my husband. (The five bucks was not to finance the date, but to even out the money on what they gave M. They are sticklers on evening out the money, and I scored a 30% off card at the register at Kohl's when the jeans were being bought, and so they cost less than they were "supposed" to. Not that you care.) Oh, also, a whisk. Anyway, that is not the point at all. The point is... M and I got to go on a date! Without the baby! It was fun!

This weekend was crazy busy, particularly on Saturday. One of my cousins turned eighteen (today) and had a party scheduled for yesterday. Another cousin (his aunt) flew in for the occasion. Her plane arrived in Louisville at nine Saturday morning. Her sister was going to come pick her up, and had asked if she could spend the night with us, because we are two hours closer to the airport than she is (just about an hour for us). I told her that she was welcome, but also told her that if she could get the spare car seat to us, we would go pick her up. We were heading up for the weekend anyway so we might as well go two hours out of our way than one of them go six hours out of their way. So, we did our part for familial duty this weekend. Sidenote: turns out that our car is really not designed for two carseats and a person sitting in the middle. It was more than a tight squeeze but we managed. I'm just glad that I am not the one that had to ride back there for an hour and a half.

So, lunch with a thousand people before we adjourned to my parents house for a while. In addition to our date, there was a college basketball game, and we had all been talking about taking Evelyn to see one. We were planning on going to the game with my parents and aunt and uncle, and then leaving after a few minutes and going on our date. I had maybe had some brief thoughts about how she might not like it, but we were pretty much thinking she'd be excited by all the people and the mascot and the ball and the commotion. HAHA HA HAHAHAHAHA. In retrospect.. duh. Evelyn does NOT like loud or echoey noises. This is the child who was terrified of public bathrooms and will still sometimes come running to us when we yell something to someone in another room. So... she cried, and clung to me or my mom or my aunt while we found a seat. We were hoping she would warm up to the whole thing after a few minutes, but just when we would coax a smile out of her, they would start buzzing about something and people would yell and cheer and she would cry again and bury her head in someone's neck. It was really pitiful. M and I were thinking that there was no way in hell we were going to make her sit there any longer but were trying to figure out exactly how to accomplish this because we were supposed to be leaving for our date without our kid in tow, and yet, we hated to say that they had to leave the game too. My mom and aunt ended up taking her back to the house. We stayed with her for a few minutes before they left, and she was fine, and so all was well, but it was so pitiful. She is not much of a crybaby, my little girl, so it really stings when she's sobbing hysterically because she's so afraid of something, you know?

Anyway, after that sour note in the day, M and I headed off to our date. We were kind of without plans, and also, in a small town with limited options. It was too early for dinner and we had missed the time slot for a matinee, and there were no movies we wanted to see anyway. (We have a raincheck with my parents for a movie in the future... that was supposed to be part of our date.) That pretty much leaves you with Walmart, but my smart, smart husband came up with a really sweet lovely idea, and we drove out to the lake and walked around "our" spot. When he came over to visit the first time, we drove out there on that first day, when it was still really awkward and new, and we walked around one of the picnic areas/trails, and we talked and held hands and all that, and M gave me a brief history of European wars. (Don't ask. I never did. I think maybe we were both a little nervous that first day.) It was kind of cold and windy so we were the only ones out there, and it was so quiet and lovely and pretty. Smart boy! And romantic! He even started talking about European wars as we headed down the trail! Awww.. ;) So, we had a little reminiscing time. We followed that up with a quick stop at Kroger and then to dinner, and then we walked over to the bookstore and had coffee. It was so, so fantastic. Really. It was also more Valentiney than I think we have ever been in the past decade. Decade. I sometimes can't believe I can use that term about our relationship.




And when we came home, our baby girl was happy to see us (in moderation; Granny was still there, after all) and she went to bed without much fuss. Score!

Yesterday was kind of a mess, what with the birthday party. It was supposed to be at three, but when we arrived at three, turns out that the doors didn't even open until four. (It was at a bowling alley on campus.) None of the party people were there. We went back to my parents and complained about the disorganization of those particular family members, until they called and were all "oh, we're here. Come in the back door. No, come in the front, we'll unlock it for you!" So we went, and of course, they did not come unlock the door but it worked out. It was actually the second failed outing of the day. Some of them also got baptized yesterday morning but failed to invite the family. Long story, not interesting, all's well that ends well, but still incredible that the whole day was so screwed up.

We were pretty apprehensive about the bowling plan, since we had just had a pretty adverse reaction to another loud event with lots of people, but Evie thought it was grand. We let her play a little bit with rolling the balls down the lanes, but she spent most of her time in the room with the pizza and cake. She normally will not eat pizza but she was loving it yesterday. (She wants to like cake, but sadly for her, she does not.) We were afraid that she would get smacked by someone with a ball, or run down the lane to get the pins, or something like that, so she got held or otherwise restrained through most of the event.



We left well before she was done, and she was devestated to be leaving her Granny, but she had fun while it lasted. We also learned that while yes, we could take her bowling, it would be a giant pain in the tushy and we might as well wait until she's a little bigger. We go bowling once every five years or so anyway, so it's not like she's really crimping our lifestyle much in that regard anyway. By 2014 she'll be plenty old enough to bowl! ;)

And I have officially used all my babynap to write this monster post. I had other ideas in mind on what to do today but I guess they'll have to wait.. it's now past time to go wake up the munchkin.

The other night, M came in to put me to bed, and we had this conversation about... something. It was funny and interesting and cute and very, very us. If you're lucky, you know what kind of conversation that I mean because you have those moments with your significant other where it reminds you of just why you click with that person even though in the general scheme of things, it will not rank as even one of your top one thousand conversations. Anyway, at the end, we came up with a summary of the conversation and I asked M to write it down and put it on my desk so I could think about it again later. I especially liked it because M said that the whole thing was really like a line from a Counting Crows CD--which is to say, completely meaningless on one level but incredibly profound at the same time. (I added that meaningless/profound thing, not him. He does not wax poetic about much CC-related.) Anyway, here is the direct transcription of that conversation, as found on a post-it on my desk:

WAY TOO MUCH ABOUT THE
TOOTHPASTE, AND WHERE
THE RAINS CAME FROM

And... it is less than a week later, and I have no flipping clue what that is supposed to mean, but it makes me smile anyway... and I haven't yet asked M if he remembers what it meant because I kind of like not knowing. It reminds me I think I'm going to stick it up on my desk so I can continue to ponder what sort of toothpaste excess leads to the origin of the rain.

Seven years ago today, I married my best friend. :) Yay us! That's generally accepted by me as one of the best things I ever did. To celebrate, I roped him into an organizational project and we cleaned out a (craft-containing) dresser in our bedroom to use for our clothes. Exciting! I also threw away old, shoddy undergarments and put away all my maternity clothes, and gave M a stack of my old t-shirts that I will never wear for use in his woodshop. And he mowed the front lawn to chop up some leaves! And Evelyn refused to nap! And then we made a broccoli casserole for dinner because the prospect of having it just once in a week (crucial part of the Thanksgiving meal) is just not enough, I guess.

Look, I am sort of embarrassed that my signature dish, the one that I have to make for every food event, for my family is broccoli casserole. I mean, it's Velveeta. Is that even real food? And crumbled crackers! And yet, it is so, so good. I had to type it out for my cousin Rae, who moved herself away to North Carolina and will be missing out on my cheesy goodness on Thursday, so I'll post it here in case anyone is feeling peckish. I thought I already had but I can't find it. Try it, it's good stuff. It is so much better than the nasty broccoli casserole with cream of mushroom that some people make. My other 'signature' dish is lasagna, and I will post my recipe for that soon, too. It does not contain butternut squash or spinach, no matter what my dear crack-smoking friend says. Lasagna is brilliant because everyone likes it. It's the perfect dish to make when you have potentially picky people coming over for dinner. It's not too weird, it's full of cheese, and you can make it ahead of time, unless your baby wakes up in a phenomenally bad mood, screaming her sweet little head off, just as you have cheese dust and pasta starch all over your hands and houseguests arriving JUST RIGHT NOW KNOCK KNOCK! Because then, it does not get fully prepared in advance. I'm just saying, that's all, not that that happened to me recently or anything.

My cousin Rae doesn't cook a whole lot so I was fairly explicit in my directions, just in case. Does anyone but me really enjoy reading chatty, non-technical directions for recipes?

Broccoli Casserole
2 (10 ounce) packages frozen chopped broccoli
8 oz Velveeta
1/2 stick margarine (for broccoli)
3/4 stick margarine (for crackers)
1 sleeve townhouse crackers

Preheat oven to 350. Cook broccoli. You can do this in the microwave or on the stove. Drain. While you're doing that, cut the Velveeta and butter (for broccoli) into chunks and microwave until melty--you don't have to do this but it's MUCH easier to get it smooth like this than just adding it at the end like the original recipe says. Also, cut up the butter for the crackers and melt it in a different bowl. Add the crackers to a ziplock bag and whack the hell out of them with something hard like the bottom of a glass or (no kidding, what I used tonight) a rubber ducky. When the broccoli is done, mix it with the cheese and butter and pour into an 8x8 pan or something like that. When everything is completely ready, add the crackers to the butter and stir, maybe with a fork. I usually use my hands for the cracker part, to be honest. To get both a solid crust and a nice flaky topping, which seems to be what most people prefer (from all my research, you know) dump about 3/4 of the cracker crumbs on top and pat down firmly in an even layer. Then sprinkle the remaining crumbs on top. Bake for about 25 minutes or until golden brown, bubbly and delicious. Oh, and it works just fine if you fix it the night before and put it in the fridge before baking--it will take longer in the oven the next day, though, especially if you're baking it at the same time as something else. Plan for at least about 40 minutes (usually).

This recipe actually usually tastes better when you double it. It's the broccoli to crust ratio, I think.

Sometimes it almost creeps me out how well-suited M and I are. Last night, we were talking about something or other. I really can't remember what it was at the moment, but M was defending his position on the subject. He made some point, and I thought to myself that--you know, this story would be so much better if I could remember what it was we were talking about--there was a flaw in his reasoning there. I didn't say anything yet, though, and I wasn't really looking at him either because I was fiddling with the baby, and then he interrupted himself (just as if I had interrupted him) and said, "yeah, I know, but it could have been... [ whatever it was we were talking about in defense of his mildly irrelevant point that I can't remember ]. I had to think about it a minute to even grasp what had happened before I did interrupt him to inform him that I HADN'T SAID THAT OUT LOUD yet. The really fab part of being married to M is that he knows me well enough that he might as well be reading my mind.

Of course, I know him pretty well, too. For example, he came home from work and he wasn't hungry. My mom and Evie and I met him for Chinese food at lunchtime, and we all ate more than we should have (of course). Finally, he was all sluggish and said that he had to get up and move around before he fell asleep at his chair. He sleeps very little these days so it was possible that he was just worn out. He was talking about going to bed before E tonight. He was also looking depressed at being home but being unable to enjoy his time off because he was feeling so bad. I, as I have done on so many occasions in the past, suggested that perhaps, just MAYBE, he should eat something for dinner even though he still felt full from lunch. Oh, no, he said, that's not it this time. It's not my blood sugar! I am just really tired! So I rolled my eyes a little and gave him five minutes before tricking him into accepting a couple of Kit-Kat bars. Five minutes later, he was feeling a little perkier but still did not think that he should eat any dinner, so I nagged him until he ate a little real food. Then he headed off to the basement to play and came back in a great mood and is now fully awake an hour after Evelyn went to bed. MEN OF THE WORLD: this is why women nag. We know what's best for you.

In other weirdo boyo news, M called me Kisha today. I asked him if he was mad at me. There's another of our oddities. We never call each other by name. It's usually "baby". Or maybe "buggles" or something involving the word "shmoo", which also isn't really a word unless maybe you're an ex-mudder. I am much more like to call him M to his face than I am to call him Magnus, though I will refer to him by name when talking about him to people when he's not there. I would call him M then too except most people would think I'm weird. Er. Than I am. :)

Crap. Baby just woke up after an hour. Bad, bad, bad. Good thing M is still awake... ;)

M and I are at an impasse on the whole name thing. We each have a favorite, and we are vying for which one it should be. For the purpose of this entry, let's pretend that my favorite name is Bertha, and his name is Lou*. (Not even freaking close.) He has begun suggesting Lou Bertha. I, on the other hand, maintain that whereas Bertha Lou actually sounds good together**, Lou Bertha just sounds weird, and not good. He doesn't think that it matters how the first name and middle name sound together. Maybe that's a man thing? Because I think it matters a good deal. We have a preference for using the first name as the name that she will go by because using the middle name gets complicated, and therefore, both of us want our name to be first so it will get used.

I told him the other day that if--IF--we went with Lou, we would have to come up with another middle name than Bertha because I didn't want to use my favorite name at all if it would just sound weird as a middle name. He decided to strike a deal with me--if he gets to choose the first name for Ducky, I can have whatever middle name I want without a fuss, AND if Ducky turns out to be a surprise boy, I can choose BOTH of the names without argument. This is kind of a a good deal because I do have a boy's name that I really like and that he won't agree about. (Of course, in that hypothetical situation, I would feel bad about giving a child a name his father didn't like anyway. Not sure HOW guilty, but a little bit anyway. And don't think M hasn't realized that!) I'm not sure I want to go for it but it's nice as a backup plan.

We do like each other's favorite name, which helps. I'm wavering, but I'm not sure I want to give in. First of all, I am pleased with the name that unexpectedly jumped out at me because it is the classiest name I have ever liked, and it has a nice personal meaning to me. I can't say much more than that without potentially giving it away. (This not telling thing is HARD.) My biggest concern (other than "Do I like it enough?" because right now, I don't know if I will ever like anything enough, but I trust that it will grow on me once I've reconciled it as the name I've given my baby) is that it's a semi-old-fashioned name for a tiny little girl.. not necessarily in a bad way, though. I also think (not positive, but pretty sure) that my choice will have family approval... which isn't terribly important but nice.

M's name, on the other hand, is the one name, boy or girl, that he has said that he really liked since we met. I like it.. I'm just not positive I like it enough, AND I know someone who has named their daughter this. I hate to "steal" a friend's name. Some people get upset about that sort of thing. M says that you can't really take that into account because duplicate names happen sometimes. Are people this accepting or is he wrong? On the positive side... it's a name that I have associated with potential offspring for our entire married life, it's pretty and feminine, and I think most people will think it sounds nice. And I do like it, or it would be off the list.

I guess what it comes down to is that I have a little less long-standing attachment to Bertha than he has to Lou, but I'm not sure Lou is perfect for the ducky girl. And besides that, he has shot down a zillion of my suggested names and I've gracefully (mostly) let go of them, but he gets to keep his favorite! That's not fair! ;) We're in negotiations still, but this naming a kid thing? It's really not that easy. How the heck are we supposed to decide who wins?

Anyone have any good suggestions? Just in case neither of us give in and we have to let both Bertha and Lou go? ;)

*Lou: after me! That's a joke that you may not get because Lou is not my most common nickname or anything. My cousin Rae (aka Heidi) always calls me Lou, though, mainly because I call her Rae. It makes no sense, never has. Don't try to understand it.

**Well, as good as this example can sound. Apologies to anyone who is named Bertha Lou.

M and I had a touching little scene this weekend, whereby we were laying in bed in the morning, M with his hand on my belly. We were laughing at the busy baby while talking about what we're going to name her. People keep asking, you know, and we keep not having an answer. That's actually kind of nice right now because that way I'm not lying about it, but it's harder to say, face to face, that we're not planning on telling anyone what we decide, than it sounds when I write it here. Anyway, we do have a few possibles now. I spontaneously came up with a first name/middle name combo this weekend that sounds really nice, and then we realized that the poor child's initials would be a word. Not a bad word, just a word, and I'm just not so sure she would thank us for that. M and I both really, really like a certain name that we just don't think we can use. We want to, but can pretty clearly envision how everyone would make fun of us. Then M has one name that he has always liked, and I like it too--but I'm not sure I like it enough for a first name. But at last, I am looking forward to giving the duckling a name. I have been feeling like it was an overwhelming, impossible task until the last few days.

Tonight was Take Back the Kitchen night, and I managed to drag myself in there and clean everything. It's M's job to do the dishes, but he's spent all his free time working on the bedroom, so we've been accumulating the special items that won't go into the dishwasher. And believe me, everything goes into the dishwasher if it will fit at all, unless if it's made of wood. M has a thing about wood items in a dishwasher. He swears that it can cause a house fire, so he won't let me put so much as a wooden spoon in the dishwasher. (I haven't pointed out that two of our knives have wooden handles, because he puts those in.) Our dishwasher here is fantastic--the one we had at the apartment before we moved sucked so much that I really wished we didn't even have it sometimes. I have a pet peeve about reaching into a cabinet and pulling out a dirty dish, and M doesn't have the correct DNA to inspect dishes thoroughly before putting them away. Apparently. Doing dishes by hand is not that bad if you do it as seldom as I do. It's so nice and clean! Of course, I failed to make a salad, which is part of the reason I was heading in there to begin with, but one can't have everything. Clean kitchen, or food to eat...

I don't think I ever got around to expounding upon my Vegetable Brush Marriage Theory, so here's the quick version, with resolution. We have a white vegetable brush with a long handle. It's not a vegetable brush at all, actually--it's a dish brush. M only washes dishes with those brushes. He doesn't like this one for some reason, so we started using it for scrubbing potatoes. Because it's a food item, the logical thing is to put said brush into the drawer with all manner of special utensils, right? No. No, not at all, apparently. The logical thing is to take it out of the dishwasher and throw it behind the faucet nozzle with the dish brush. (I wasn't crazy about his storage location for that, either, but I pick my battles, you know?) Because--it's a brush, and one brush should go with the other brush, and he liked to put one brush on the counter so let's put the other one there too!

It drove me quietly crazy. It was such a small thing that I didn't mention it, other than to tell him that it didn't go there now and then when he asked where the brush had gone (when I put it away.) So, one day, I was puttering around in the kitchen and it occurred to me that M was not going to change his habits. He has a mental block on this dish/vegetable brush. I could either simmer quietly until I snapped at him over something so stupid that it would be truly embarrassing, or I could get over it somehow. That's when I came up with a novel plan to buy a real vegetable brush. They're ridiculously cheap, and without a long handle... which isn't good for scrubbing potatoes anyway... then he won't get them confused, and he will put the brush in the drawer and we will both be happy.

There's my marriage theory, in a nutshell--two people expending energy trying to figure out ways to not let the stupid things bother them, and also, remove the dirt from their favorite root vegetables all at the same time. I think that's why we get along so well--we are always trying to make sure that the other one is content.

But then, there's also the fact that M and I have really warped senses of humor at times. Feeling pleased with myself, I explained this theory to M and we expounded at length as to the ways this is a metaphor for all sorts of marriages and issues. This was not long before Christmas, so I had actually just asked Mom to buy me one for my stocking. At the end of this discussion, we ended up coming to an accord on the Dish Brush Issue--in the meantime, we would just put a weird little vase that my parents bought us on the counter, and we would store the dish brushes in there, so they would always have a place to go that was not on the kitchen counter, then he could put the upcoming vegetable brush in the drawer, and then we would both be satisfied! It was a fine moment in marriage, I tell you.

And then we brought home our new little vegetable brush after Christmas. It's small and round and cute, and, as soon as M put it away for the first time--he stuck the damned thing in the vase just to irritate me.

So my new marriage theory is that you should pick out someone who drives you crazy but always makes you laugh. I did a very fine job indeed on that one, so I'm learning to live with wonky dish brush placement.

M: Do you want to?

K: I don't know, do you want to?

M: Ummm... yes. Damn it, it's quality time. Hop to it, bitch.

We are very sweet to each other in this household but I think maybe most people would think otherwise if they eavesdropped. The conversation in question was related to our discussion on whether or not to light a fire and read on the couch with the Christmas tree twinkling merrily in the background. I was saying earlier that we should endeavor to spend more quality time together, as we may have a decrease in the amount of time we have to just be US in the near future. M apparently agrees, but in a more manly sort of way. (By the way, "bitch" is not used as an insult in our house.. before you all start thinking that I'm married to an abusive sort.)

Would you like to hear a wonderful story? I didn't link to it at the time I read it because I was in the closet, so to speak, about my own pregnancy, and I couldn't say what I wanted to about it. I Interrupt This Interruption. She's the mother of two-year-old triplets. She was in the middle of posting installment entries about her pregnancy with the babies two years before when she had to interrupt herself to care for her puking-illness babies. For two weeks. (Can you imagine?) I really enjoyed the pregnancy entries, too. You should read those when you're done with the first link. Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV and Part V. Post-infertility surprise pregnancies are high on my list of favorite blog entries to read, and hers was a particularly special one, I think.

Anyway, I was so clever, thinking about going to bed with clean sheets and how lovely that would be, so I threw everything into the washer this afternoon. Then we went furniture shopping and picked up some groceries, and I totally forgot about all things laundry. M remembered it after nine, so we are now waiting for them to finish drying in order to go to bed. Well, I am. M always stays up late on Sunday nights. We have an extra set of sheets, but we washed the mattress pad so we're kind of stuck anyway.

We've decided that we should bite the bullet and buy some bedroom furniture. Our bedroom is the weakest link in the house, furniture-wise, for several different reasons. We were going back and forth on whether to buy a king-sized bed or not. We talked ourselves into and out of it with regularity. My mom called this morning to ask if we wanted a new queen-sized mattress. The one we have is worn out and hideously warped. Quiet there in the peanut gallery. It was an inexpensive mattress--my parents bought it for us when we got married. (My parents pretty much rock. They also bought the couch at the same time.) They had bought this set at a charity fire fighter's auction recently, and they didn't need them. I'm not sure why they do that because they once bought a recliner for the same reason, and it is now sitting in our living room. So, we made an Official Decision to stop worrying about it and go with the size we have. This clears us up to buy furniture, since we were not doing that while we didn't know what we were going to do. Now, the hard part is finding something we like. And not talking ourselves out of it again. I am especially bad for doing this.

If you were a set of funky Christmas cards that I bought at an after-Christmas sale last year and did not get stored with the rest of the Christmas decorations and cards, where would you be? I know that I have seen them at some point since we moved, and I thought, "oh, I need to make sure I remember where I put this!" And then... I didn't. And it is time to send them now, and I haven't the faintest idea where they would have gone to. There are big problems here in my world, can't you tell?

Speaking of nothing more than planning our anniversary trip next month, would you like to see some wedding pictures?



I can't believe that it's will already be six years next month, and I also can't believe that it has only been six years. I should save this to post on our anniversary but that is apparently not going to happen.

(Yes, yes, if you guessed that this post is all about playing with new gadgets, you are totally right.)