Cheers!

You may have noticed the first anniversary came and went without a peep out of me. Sorry about that.

We made our way to New Orleans to celebrate and squeeze in a delayed honeymoon. We ate way too much, drank too much, and perhaps even slept too much. Just what we needed. Especially, when you consider The Thinker and I are both switching it up again on the career front. This has left us a tad distracted if you will. So much so that we didn’t plan anything special for Valentine’s Day.

Speaking of Valentines, I’ve never been one that really got all giddy about the occasion. I see it more as a corporate ploy to help sales post-Christmas. Cynical, perhaps. But if you find that right one shouldn’t everyday be about expressing your love and appreciation for that person.

Anyways, I’ll spare you the rant and share a few pictures from our trip. And don’t worry, I’m really going to make it a point to write at least twice a week. I’m thinking Tuesdays and Thursdays.

 

The Things We Do for Love

For the most part, The Thinker and I don’t disagree on too many big items in life. We’re able to compromise and reach a win-win for both of us.

Let me tell you that is not at all the situation when it comes to our sports and the teams we hold close to our heart. The Thinker isn’t much of a college hoops guy, so he’s indifferent when I’m up late or demanding we watch the KU game. As for college football, that’s where I’m unconcerned. I mean do I have a reason to cheer for the Hawks in football? They didn’t win on conference game this last season.

Anyways, when it comes to the NFL, it’s on! I bleed green. I know so many think I would be a Chiefs fan having grown up in Kansas, but nope. I’m a Packers fan to the end. That can be attributed to many Sunday afternoons spent cuddled up with my grandpa eating popcorn, drinking root beer, and yelling at the TV. He can be credited for teaching me how to properly cuss out a ref. Trust me it’s one of the invaluable life lessons.

Now The Thinker, he loves those damn Cowboys. I cannot stand the Cowboys. So you can only imagine the amount of trash talking that takes place in our house. I didn’t help matters when I showed him the wreath I wanted to order for the front door to replace the holiday one…

Pretty freakin’ saweet! Isn’t it?

Well, I love my husband and this is an instance where I had to stand down. Sadly, that wreath won’t be making itself at home on our door any time soon.

*sigh* The things we do for love.

Mail other than bills

Are holiday cards a thing of the past? I often wonder as I plan my yearly mailing. I have searched down the perfect box. I have spent time at the Paper Source seeking supplies to make my own card. This year, I made my own cards again, but took a little less time consuming approach than last year. 


Last year, I took what I thought was a great picture of the Christmas tree on the capitol grounds. What do you think?

Not bad, right? Combine that with my crazy Pinterest obsession and I was certain to create something marvelous. Well, let's also add that to my competitive nature. I wanted our holiday card and note to stand out and ultimately be better than anyone else's. This is what we ended up with.

With the help of Snapfish, I was able to create the card. And I spent a lunch hour creating the "year in review" newsletter. (I'm thinking each year will bring about a variation on the year in review.) The review was then printed by the folks at Kinkos, who also trimmed the sides so it would fit perfectly in the envelopes. 


So with those in the hands of several friends and family members, I'm able to cross off numbers 24, 46, and 47 off the 101 in 1000 days list. 


Do you have plans to send a holiday card this year?

No Baby Zone

This should come as no surprise given my prior rants. I seriously do not want to be a mother.

Now that I’ve put it out there, do not start questioning me. I know I had no desire to get married and that changed, but trust me this baby thing is completely different. I don’t foresee my mind changing any time soon. Telling me my eggs are growing stale, seeing other babies, or aging in general is not going to sway me.

I have never had this strong desire to become a mom. As a little girl, I didn’t like playing house. Instead, it was school or maybe general store. My sister and I even played board room. We’d using the dining room table, seat our stuffed animals around, tape large sheets of paper to the walls and start the update on the status of our store. Perhaps, we were a bit eccentric. You can ask her and she has no desire for children either. In junior high, I’d babysit but I hated it. I did it one summer, decided enough of this, and made damn sure I found a better job for the following year. I struggled when I had to care for an egg. I think I secretly replaced mine at least twice.

Why do I bring this up? Well, one couple, who are our closest friends in DC are expecting. C-Mac and his wife had a baby earlier this year. And another close couple is trying. Add that with the fact that The Thinker and I are married and the reminder that I’m in my thirties is just a clusterfuck of baby talk.

I don’t give a rat’s ass what the latest baby professional is telling you. I’m sorry that you can no longer enjoy a stiff drink, but it’s not my problem. Even more I don’t care that you’re pants don’t fit. Join the club neither does mine.

The poor Thinker…he’s heard my pissing and moaning so much during the past couple of weeks. I feel like I have to rationalize why I’ve reached the decision I have. I feel like people cast judgment on me. I feel like people don’t believe me.

Trust me I have worried that there must be something wrong with me. What woman doesn’t want children?

As I have grown older, I have reached a peace with this choice. I want a career and I don’t think a woman can have both. (Sorry ladies. I know so many of you will try to convince of otherwise.) The Thinker and I really like where our life is right now and don’t like the idea of it changing. Call us selfish bastards we don’t care.

Bottom line. I don’t want to be a mom and I really don’t want to hear all the damn baby/mommy talk.

Why do I let it paralyze me?

I sat quietly sipping my wine and nodding so people wouldn’t learn of my dark secret. I could feel my gaze shift downward to avoid eye contact. I was certain people were going to start asking questions. My mind continued to race with possible answers. Could I simply deflect the question and bring up the game? Would I have to explain how I really felt? Even more, why is it such a freaking big deal?

Once I get to a  place where I can articulate my thoughts, I’ll share. Right now, I just wonder why women, especially, make this such a big part of their identity.