My life after the 15 minutes…

I guess, like all of my blog posts, this one needs a bit of a prelude. Like most married couples, Bubs and I sleep together. I guess that shouldn't come as a shock, but explaining how we sleep together will make the rest of this blog make a lot more sense. Our first night where we quite literally slept next to each other was in 8th grade. We went to a party with my older sister where some high school boys thought it would be hilarious to get me very drunk. Bubs got creeped out by them, so he quite literally carried me to a little park near his house, deposited me there, ran home, grabbed quilts and comforters, and built us a little bed so I could sleep it off. Waking up next to him was magical. It's one of those memories that, even now, feels almost frozen in time. I remember thinking that morning that this was something I wanted to do forever. Now we sleep very differently. If I had my way, we would sleep like a pair of intertwined and motionless spiders. I love cuddling with...

So another long break from blogging. For sure, my shoulder has been the main culprit, as for the longest time I couldn't really type effectively. I tried voice-to-text blogging a couple of times, but if you thought my writing was scatterbrained and chaotic, you should have seen me trying to speak a blog. Woo-wee. So how are things? Well, the really good news is that I am almost certainly not going to require surgery on my shoulder. When I was home, I did physical therapy and it actually started to feel so much better. I was even able to go back to work at the gym (with the strict prohibition that I have to get in much better shape before I'm allowed to demonstrate skills). We also needed to make plans for the summer.  This is one of those moments where I still can't quite believe how lucky I am to have married who I did. Bubs' gift to me and the kids this summer was sending us to Texas for the majority of the kids' break. At our district in Arizona, we're on a m...

I didn’t even look at my previous blog date before starting this one. My best guess is that I haven’t blogged in well over two months. As always, I never want to leave the punchline until the end of the blog. I’m not a cliffhanger girl at all. Everything is good…really good actually…well, save for a potentially year-changing injury. Ok maybe I do enjoy the occasional cliffhanger from time to time. So here’s what we’ve had going on in the past few months— We had a baby celebrate her first birthday. My gorgeous little ginger baby turned 1 on April 14th. I got myself a part-time job. I had a husband watching the news with extreme jealousy that his friends were flying a real combat mission on the actual aircraft he’s been flying for the last 10-ish years. Numbers 2 and 3 are very much related. So as you all know, we are apparently in a war (I guess? I can't keep up with the whiplash of what is or isn't happening) with Iran. I have a husband who, despite having a wife who wi...

One of the things I’ve tried very hard to do with these blogs is make them feel light and “mom-like,” mostly because that’s how I want to remember things. And I do go back and read them often. But the reality is, things aren’t always great. And the last month has been a prime example of that. Through the mountain of medical tests, psychiatrists, obstetricians, therapists, etc. that came as a result of the Mexico incident — followed shortly by getting pregnant — one of the things that came out is that I have bipolar disorder. I remember the psychiatrist very clearly saying, “What you’ve told me indicates to me you suffer from bipolar disorder.” “Suffer” feels like a strong word, because most of the time I am happy. I’m outgoing, I love being around people, and I really do think I live a pretty great life. But at the same time, there have been brief periods where I’ve fallen into deep depressions that all but immobilize me. And my way of coming out of those has always been a pretty inten...

As I sit down to write this blog, I’ve realized there’s been an overarching trend in my last few entries… I am an incredible brat. This is true when I read each blog individually. It’s also true when I zoom out and read the overall narrative of my writing since we first blew up on Reddit. I met an amazing guy when I was the ripe age of thirteen, and I’ve spent nearly every day since being an absolute pain in the ass. I’m thirty-four now. I write a lot of these blogs almost like diary entries. I try to make them entertaining for the people who read them, but a big part of why I write is to have a record of this season of our lives. Sometimes that season is big and exciting and a lot of people can sympathize or empathize with me. Other times I come across as a bratty, boring housewife who doesn’t appreciate how good she has it. After this long preamble, this blog will be the latter. One of the things that has always driven me crazy about my husband is how he can have 30,000 irons in the ...

As most of you know, we moved from our childhood hometown in Texas to Tucson, Arizona last year. For the most part, it’s starting to feel like home—and while I had my reservations at first, I’m actually starting to like it here. One of the things I’ve come to appreciate most is how quiet it is. Tucson is a very “normal” mid-sized American city of about a million people. We have all the same stores, all the same chain restaurants, mixed with a lot of local flair inspired by the Native American and Hispanic cultures that were here long before Tucson became a genuine Old West railroad town. (The O.K. Corral—the site of the most famous shootout—is less than an hour from our house in Tombstone.) That was until this week. Earlier this week, Today Show host Savannah Guthrie’s mother was reportedly kidnapped from her home on the north side of town. I tend to personalize stories like this anyway, but Savannah Guthrie has been something of a personal hero of mine since her reporting on the ...

Thursday was Abby’s 10th birthday, which still feels impossible to say out loud. I officially have a kid in double digits, and I’m not convinced that should be allowed. On my mom’s side of the family, tenth birthdays are… a thing. A big thing. I used to think it was just a Texas quirk, but I’ve since realized it’s more of a love language—one that involves travel plans, head counts, and a total disregard for subtlety. When someone turns ten, the village shows up. Which is why, earlier this month, Abby came to me with a very serious request. “Mom,” she said, “I don’t need a huge party. Can you please tell Grandma and Aunt Jenn I just want to stay in Arizona and maybe go to dinner with you guys?” This is Abby in a nutshell. Thoughtful. Quiet. Deeply aware of her own limits. I told her that was fine with me—but also warned her that it might break a few hearts. And that there was a very real possibility they would all just… come anyway. Because I cannot imagine my sister Jennifer ever missi...