Married Life

All posts in the Married Life category

So…Probably Not Pregnant

Published January 14, 2019 by ia84

(Okay, if you’re squeamish about words like period, then this post is probably one you want to avoid.)

I spent the first two weeks of this new year thinking I was pregnant.  All the symptoms were there, and then my period started on Saturday, so yeah…probably not preggers.

This isn’t the first time I’ve thought I was pregnant.  In fact I’ve even had a few times when the test has shown up positive, but it’s never lasted.  I’ve not been public about those pregnancies, mostly because I felt like such a failure.

This is the first time that I’ve genuinely felt both disappointed and thrilled when my period showed up.  The disappointment stems from knowing that this means more waiting.  The thrilled part comes from the fact that I’ve actually managed to have a normal cycle for one of the very few times in my life.

My heart has undergone a shift.  I’ve gone from being willing to be a mom but feeling unsure about whether I really wanted kids, to knowing that I genuinely want to be a mom, and not just because I know Tom wants to be a dad.  I’ve never bought into that idea that you’re not a family or complete without kids.  I’ve known for a long time that kids may be just out of the realm of possibility (thanks a lot, PCOS).  Our family was formed when we said, “I do.”  Children would just make our family bit bigger, and I suddenly find myself really wanting that.

Now, I find myself facing the fact that I absolutely must get healthy.  If I want to have a hope of a successful pregnancy, or of having an adoption agency being willing to even talk to us, I have to be mentally and physically healthy.

It’s the end of the year, as we know it.

Published December 31, 2018 by ia84
photo of fireworks

Photo by Anna-Louise on Pexels.com

Here it is.

New Year’s Eve 2018.

Oh, 2018, what can I say about you?  You’ve not been a particularly good year, but you definitely haven’t been the worst year.  I’ve learned a lot this year, and as cheesy as it sounds, I’ve definitely grown as a person.  I’ve learned so much about myself.  I’ve stepped up and taken ownership of my life.  It’s been a scary, exhausting experience, but something that needed to happen.

I’m looking forward to 2019.  I have plans for this blog.  I have plans for my life.  I have plans to drink a ton of coffee.

You may notice a few changes to this site.  I’ll be documenting my jigsaw puzzles, and I’ll be keeping a daily log as I try my hand at making a temperature blanket.  I know that every year I make the pronouncement that I’m going to keep this blog more up to date, but this time I actually have a plan.  Crazy, right?

Finally, we’ve been talking about it for years, and have finally tried it. We have a podcast! Tom & Malia Have A Podcast. That’s right, the Boy has a name, and it’s only taken me almost five years to reveal it.  There’s only one episode, so far, and I know it’s a bit rough.  It’s fifteen minutes of us talking about the new Aquaman movie, and because I’m easily distracted, Spiderverse comes up as well.  This will be a learning experience, but should be a fun journey.

And that’s about it for now.  It’s almost time for the annual New Year’s Eve Diablo 3 gaming session.

See y’all in 2019!

Let’s redo the floor ourselves, we said. It’ll be fun, we said.

Published May 30, 2018 by ia84

I am not skilled when it comes to any kind of house or auto maintenance. Fortunately, I married someone who is.

Years ago, when we got married, we discussed eventually redoing the living room. There was a pointless wall, and awful carpet. The goal was to remove the wall, pull up the carpet, and lay tile. We’ve never had much money, so this whole plan fell into the category of “Someday.”

Then came the Saturday, early last fall. We had gone to the ReStore (think thrift store meets Menards). We needed a doorknob, and as we wandered through the store we stumbled across our dream tile. The tile we’d spent years planning to place in the living room. Not only did they have the tile, they had enough for us to be able to redo the living room, and maybe even one of the bedrooms. Even better? We could actually afford to buy it.

We made several trips with my father-in-law’s pick-up, and brought the tile to our garage. It would spend the next few months sitting there, collecting dust. During Thanksgiving weekend, the wall came down. Then we ripped up the carpet.

The furniture all got moved to the dining room and the basement. The piano moved into the kitchen.

The boy’s job takes him out of town for 3-5 days every week. The only time he’s typically home is on the weekend. His job is exhausting, so by the time he gets home he has little energy to do anything. Which means progress on the floor has been slow.

Six months of this has been a bit wearing. Fortunately, though, I can see the light at the end of this tunnel. We spent all of Memorial Day weekend grouting. I can best describe it as feeling like we’re icing a cake we’ll be looking at for the next 15-20 years.

The grouting isn’t perfect. There’s so many mistakes, you can definitely tell it was a diy project. There’s one spot that’s so bad, we spent hours trying to fix it, and eventually agreed that we’re going to put furniture over it and never move said furniture.

I’ve taken numerous showers, and am still covered in a layer of grime that I fear will never come off unless I figure out how to shed my skin like a snake.

The cuts, the dirt, the sore muscles, and the exhaustion are all worth it. We’re going to have a beautiful living room. It won’t be perfect, but neither are we. I wouldn’t feel at home if it were perfect.

Dear 2018, I refuse to make a pile of resolutions I’m just going to break in a day. So, let’s just promise to be kind to each other. Okay?

Published January 1, 2018 by ia84

I have been standing in my kitchen, washing dishes for the last 20 minutes, thinking about what I could say as we head into 2018.  Did I come up with anything wise?  Well, if you think that, “at least it’s easy to turn a 7 into an 8, so when I write 2017 on everything for the next two weeks and have to change it, it won’t be that difficult,” is wise, then sure, I’m super wise.

Actually, I’m feeling grateful.  Things were bad a year ago.  The boy was working a nightmare job.  His only income was commission based, and he worked 12-14 hours every day, 7 days a week.  To make matters worse, he rarely had sales, so more than once we went an entire month with him not having a paycheck.  Our bank account more frequently had a number that was red with a little minus in front of it, than it had a number in black.  It didn’t help that I had this constant mystery pain on the left side of my abdomen that no one could give me an answer about.  The worse things got, the more frozen in depression and anxiety I got.  I got to the point I was having trouble functioning as a human.    Things were bad, and dark, and I spent most of my time feeling completely and utterly hopeless.

Now, it’s January 1, 2018, and the boy no longer works the job from hell.  Our bank account, while not super healthy, hasn’t had bright red minus numbers in months.  I still have my mystery pain, but hey, two out of three bad things aren’t bad anymore.

So, here’s to 2018.  Here’s to starting a year with a bit of hope and a lot less fear.

Hello, 911? I’m a mess.

Published October 28, 2017 by ia84

This week was a big pile of Bantha poodoo. Not only did I end up in the e.r. for chest pains on Wednesday night (that’s a whole separate post that will be coming soon), but then on Friday morning I had one of the scariest experiences of my life.

I awoke at 5:30 a.m. because Gracie was standing on the bed, staring at the door, and barking. This was a little alarming to wake up to, but the truly scary part wad that I could see light from out in the house streaming under my doorway…and I knew I had turned all the lights off before I went to bed.

Oh, and I was home alone because the boy’s new job requires some overnights out of town.

I grabbed Gracie, my phone, and a knife and locked us all up in the master bathroom. Since I knew the bedroom door was locked, I figured I’d at least bought myself some time.

Now, my first thought was that maybe the boy had gotten home early. So, I tried calling him. And I kept trying to call him. I sent a text. I got no responses.

I could hear faint noises from out in the house, but was unsure if I was hearing the cats, or if someone was in the house.

Finally, I dialed 911 and told the dispatcher that I thoughtthere was an intruder. She stayed on the phone with me while I waited for the cops to arrive. It only took a few minutes, but those minutes felt like hours. Eventually, I heard what sounded like faint knocking. I asked the dispatcher if it was the cops, and she confirmed it was and said it was okay to go answer the door.

I crept out from the bathroom, convinced that an attacker was lurking, waiting to grab me. When I opened the bedroom door, my heart nearly stopped because all the lights in the house were now off. I knew that at least one light had been on, which confirmed my fear that there was an intruder.

I made my way down the hallway, freaking out on the phone to the dispatcher, because I was convinced something terrible was about to happen. I must have looked super intimidating in my pink, fluffy bathrobe, phone in one hand, knife in the other. And by intimidating, I mean hilarious.

And then, I entered the living room…

“Hey, babe.” The sleepy voice of my husband greeted me from the couch.

I’m not sure I’ve ever felt that relieved, pissed, and embarrassed all at once. I may have muttered something along the lines of, “I love you, but I’m gonna kill you!”

I switched on a light, and wrapped in my fluffy pink bathrobe I went to the door and proceeded to explain to a very kind/slightly amused police officer that while someone was actually in the house, it was my husband. The officer assured me that they were just glad everything was okay, and I did the right thing by calling since I hadn’t known for sure.

They left. I went in and kissed the boy and he told me his phone had been set to “do not disturb” and he’d been trying to let me get sleep since the week had been a sleepless one for me. Part of me melted because he’s so thoughtful and sweet. The non-melted part requested that in the future he either text me he’s headed home early, or turn off “do not disturb.”

And that, kids, is the story of how I called the cops on my husband.


This too shall pass…it may pass like a kidney stone…but it will pass

Published April 23, 2017 by ia84

“Tragedy is when I cut my finger.  Comedy is when you fall into an open sewer and die.”  Mel Brooks

“I don’t think you can take anymore bad news.” the boy informed me when he got home on Thursday night.

“You’re probably right, but you can’t say something like that and not tell me what happened.”

Turned out that he’d blown a tire that afternoon.  As I sat there, taking in the latest bit of bad news in our life, there was this little voice in the back of my head that muttered something about, “One day you’ll look back on this and laugh.”  However, laughter wasn’t exactly forthcoming in that moment.  Instead, I sat there doing math and trying not to cry.

We’d barely been scraping by this month, but I knew that with the paychecks being deposited on Friday, we’d finally be able to pay the mortgage, and have just a little left over to finally be ahead instead of facing the red.  Now, that little was going to cover replacing tires.

Now, before I continue, I feel I should make an interjection here.  I realize that over that over the last several months, the few times I have blogged, it’s been stressed, depressed writing.  I’ve just been stuck.  Completely overwhelmed and terrified of what bad news each day is going to bring.  The thing is, I know that the more I focus on feeling crapped on, the more crapped on I’m going to feel.  So, I’m making a point to try to not focus on the bad, and I’m going to try to find the good and the funny/absurd.

And back to the story…

Thankfully, we did have just enough to cover the mortgage and the tires.  However, I am trying very hard not to freak out right now, because I have zero idea of how we’re going to pay our electric bill that’s also due this week.  I dream of a day when we can pay all of our bills on time every month.  I know that we’re nearing that day, because we’ve already made great progress since the end of last year when we couldn’t pay anything.  So, that’s a happy thought.

And despite the stress, and the fear, we’re okay.  The boy and I are together, holding on tight to each other and to Jesus.

And if we do end up living down by the river, at least we’ve got a van.

I’m pretty sure there’s a centipede standing over us, dropping shoes.

Published April 7, 2017 by ia84

I had this whole rant written, that I’m pretty sure was mostly influenced by fever and cough meds.  I deleted the rant, and am going to stick to the bare bones as best I can.

The Boy was in a car accident yesterday morning.  Fortunately, no one was hurt.  However the car’s radiator is cracked.  It’s currently in the shop, and we’re waiting to hear what the estimate is and what insurance is going to cover.
I’m scared, frustrated, and overwhelmed.  Since we got married two years ago it’s felt like we’ve become life’s punching bag.  I know we have a lot to be thankful for, that we’re far better off than quite a few people.  I’m just tired of the constant barrage of “other shoes” that keep dropping.  I’ve shared a little of our struggles, but kept many parts of the last two years very private, because frankly it’s not something I’ve been prepared to share. I still need more distance from the events to be able to write about them with a clear head.  Hindsight and time are valuable things when it comes to learning lessons.  

 I’m not sure how to end this, so I ask for your prayers and good thoughts.  And if you’re feeling really beat up by life, please know you’re not alone.