Do I feel old?

Can't tell you how many times I've gotten this question - most from my husband, har har, making fun of me because I'm TWO WHOLE YEARS older than he is.

Honestly, yeah, right now I do feel rather old. But that has more to do with the fact that I'm a little out of commission right now.

Normally, no, not at all. 30 is the new 20, right? :-)

And all I have to do to remind myself that I'm not "old" is think about how happy I am. I have everything anyone could ask for. A wonderful, loving, caring, supportive husband who smells really good. He does, really. An amazing, brilliant, talented, outgoing, sweet and (mostly) obedient son. A happy, smiling, sweet, easygoing, wonderful daughter who understands "no" at 10 months. A substantial roof over our head and the ability to pay the mortgage. Two quality cars with good insurance, plus the ability to drive them (although for me, there's a short-term hiccup in the ability to drive thing. But everything is temporary.) Two families that live close by so our children can grow up KNOWING THEM. I didn't really know my extended family. I still don't. And I wish I had.

No, I don't feel old. I feel lucky, although I don't really believe in luck. I believe in working hard to get what you deserve, although I'm not really sure how working hard got me the wonderful people I have in my life.

So, on the eve of my 30th birthday, even though I just ranted about the stuff my husband DIDN'T do, I'd like to take this moment to thank him and everyone else in my life who makes me as happy as I am.

Damn, I really am lucky.

This.

I want THIS. And it's even on sale!

But you know the funny part? He DOESN'T READ MY BLOG!

Hahahahahahahaha HA HA

They really DON'T get it.

Now, after 8 years together, I have learned something interesting about my husband. It was something that I was convinced couldn't be true, but come to find out, it really, truly, clear-as-day IS.

MEN DO NOT GET HINTS.

I have learned this, rather annoyingly, actually, over the last 7+ years, and this time, since I HAVE learned this, I tried a different tactic.

I TOLD. I didn't HINT.

I said, "You better do something big for my birthday. I'm turning OLD, we'd better celebrate."

I said, "I've never been to the Space Needle. Let's go for my birthday."

I said, "I want a mixmaster for my birthday."

I said all of these things not once, not twice, but multiple times over the past month. He has TOLD me that I need to TELL him, not HINT, when I want something. So I TOLD him.

So today, the last Saturday, the last night we really have to go out before my birthday, I ask, "Did you make reservations at the Space Needle?"

Do I really need to tell you, dear readers, what the answer to that question was?

Well, actually, I do, because it illustrates my point.

He said, "I thought you wanted a weekend away."

...

A wha...?

Did I say ANYTHING about a weekend away up there? Okay, granted, a weekend away would be GREAT, but he told me to tell him what I WANTED, so I DID.

Oh, the other thing he said? A weekend away would be contingent on me feeling better. Which sounds very sweet, but in Scott-speak, is really just another stall tactic so he doesn't have to actually plan something by any particular date. Because I guarantee you that this weekend away is not planned in any sense of the word.

He is such a wonderful man. I couldn't ask for a better husband, father, man. But I think, after 8 years, I think I've learned to accept this part of him. I'm going to have to give up ever expecting to be surprised by a gift.

Even after I've hit him over the head with it.

Dammit, I think I'm just going to go buy myself some jewelry. I'll tell him it's his birthday gift to me.

I am officially old.

Well, not yet, my 30th birthday isn't until next week.

But I've been hearing all this junk about Twitter lately and decided to check it out. So I signed up, got a user ID and...got bored.

I mean, really, who needs to know what I'm doing at all times? Up to the minute? I've got a blog to document what happened that day, week, or month (the fact that I've been updating every day is amazing). And I have a hard enough time keeping my blog entries shorter than a novel, Twitter requires less than 150 characters (I think - I have an account but I haven't actually done anything with it).

That and Facebook. Gah. Any friends that I might have added to Facebook I'm already friends with on Myspace, but again, I signed up to check it out. And yeah, same old, same old.

I text, I Myspace, I blog - that's enough to keep up with the kiddies these days.

Yeah, so...drugs. DRUUUUUUUGS.

So I tried to go without percocet yesterday. I made it until about 2:00. I might have made it longer if I hadn't gone to get coffee at Fred Meyer with my parents, but after that?

Well, now I'm on percocet, motrin and a muscle relaxant.

So let's just say I'm not going to try going without again. I might have been okay if I hadn't tried to DO anything. I mean, WHAT was I thinking? God forbid I actually try to get out of the house.

So I took the motrin after lying on the couch, doing deep breathing exercises in between yelping and moaning. Motrin and percocet together actually make me feel almost normal. Which means I just tried to do laundry.

Which means in about 15 minutes I'm going to be yelping and moaning again.

When will I learn?

Precious gems

These adorable little nubbins happened all in the span of five minutes.

Nubbin #1: So I'm telling my mom about the whole staying-in-bed-in-the-early-morning thing with Alex, and how we can't leave any loopholes or Alex will find them.

Alex: What does loophole mean?
Me: Someday when you can read, you can look that word up in the dictionary.
Alex: (this is a direct quote, and I'm not sure even he could tell you what it means) Well, dictionary raisins means PANTS!

That's right, PANTS.

Nubbin #2: After my mom tells me to stick to my guns on this issue.
Alex: Stick to your testicles, Grandma!

Nubbin #3: Emma starts crawling toward something on the floor.
Alex: (handing me a little piece of bark or something) If you find stuff on the floor that can hurt my sister you get a sticker.

And no, we never told him that.

Nubbin #4: Alex and Emma were playing with the game Guess Who - Emma was pawing at the cards and the little flippy parts, and Alex didn't want her to, so he pulled the game away and growled at her. She sat back, giggled, then growled back at him. They did this 3 times. I almost died.

You know that feeling where you love something so much your heart just wants to jump out of your chest?

Yeah. That.

I really hate staying home.

All day I've fought this niggling little feeling that I have SOMETHING I should be doing, that doesn't involve tossing Emma in the air, reading stories or blowing raspberries.

Don't get me wrong, if there's anything that could convince me to be a stay-at-home-mom, Emma is it. She makes this whole thing look easy. She gets fussy, feed her. She gets fussy after eating, put her to bed. Let her entertain herself as long as she wants, then play with her the rest of the day. That's pretty much it.

But I can't help feeling guilty about not being at work. Scott (and everybody else) won't let me DO anything - I can't drive because the pain and the percocet are too distracting. I can't clean because I can't bend down. I can barely shower because I'm standing for too long (and I hate baths). (BTW, here's the mindbleach. You're welcome.)

Today was the first day I actually stayed home all day - the other days I've gone to spend with my mom, but that even makes me feel guilty because SHE won't effing sit the hell down. I'm not supposed to DO anything. And I'm BORED.

Anyway, I'm hoping to spend the day with my mom tomorrow so I'm at least not so bored. And I'm planning on trying to go without percocet for a bit to see if I really need it or if I can manage the pain some other way. To be continued...