Trade Ya

Richard and his friends frequently trade labor.

For instance, Aaron helped fix our roof and Rich, in turn, helped fix Aaron's truck.

Good idea, right?

Well, I have a proposal for the SAHM world.

I'll clean your bathroom(s) once a week if you'll fold and put away my laundry. You don't even have to wash the clothes. I'll have everything fresh and clean and crammed into a laundry basket for you ,and on the day of your choosing we'll go to each other's houses and trade labor.

Deal?

Potty Time

Kitty gets to go outside now that it's nice out. I have no idea what he does during his hours upon hours in the back yard. I know that once he spent some time in the neighbor's back yard because she called me thinking that he was a runaway.
He thinks he's STEALTH Kitty, but in actuality, he's bright white and glows in the moonlight.
I'm over my paralyzing fear that he would be hit by a car (I never recovered after our family cat died when I was 8-ish), mostly because if we don't let him outside he makes us C.R.A.Z.Y. by getting our attention and then trotting toward the door repeatedly until we let him out.
I digress.
When the cat is ready to come in, Kitty scratches at the screen door until someone hears him over Guitar Hero and lets him in. He immediately runs to the basement to use his litter box.
I ask you, gentle readers--why can't he potty outside?

A sickness.

It's 12:19am.
I've been up since 6am.
I did substantial running around today.
I am beyond exhausted, and judging by the way the baby ate about an hour ago (not well), she's going to be up in another hour.
I'm zoning out while sitting here, but I have to stay up JUST long enough to see what everybody blogged about today.
Sick.

How tired am I? I just went to type my username and password in my "Labels" section.
That. Doesn't. Even. Make. Sense.

Dear Past Erin,

On April 29, 2008, no matter how tired you are, no matter how many times you were up with the baby, don't start your day with coffee.
Your baby will cry all. day. long.
Switch to decaf.
Trust me--have I ever steered you wrong?
Sincerely yours,
Future Erin

MMmmmmmm...

Remember how much I love coffee?

Me, too.

Dear Walgreens Pharmacist,

I told you so.
Amazingly enough, your boss didn't sound very surprised to hear my complaint.
About you.
Good luck finding a wife.
Sincerely,
Erin

Dear Walgreens Pharmacist,

Listen, you slack-jawed nincompoop.
When I dropped off my prescription on Thursday and you told me it wouldn't be ready until Friday at 5pm, I thought, "Well...I guess I'll live." I told you how much pain I was in and asked if there was anything you could do to speed up the process. Remember how you promised to help and that you would call me when it was done?
It's Monday.
I haven't been this angry in a long time. I'm so angry, in fact, that I intend to call your boss just as soon as I figure out your name.
I wouldn't call your boss if you hadn't stood there like a sniveling ninny with your tongue hanging out saying things like, "Unfortunately I didn't call you, but I put it together on Saturday."
Unfortunately??? WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?? Is this my fault? Is that what you're implying here? And, you did this on SATURDAY?!? Are you fricking kidding me??
Some day, when you get married, you chubby-faced, wanna-be doctor (if you can get some protuberant fool to marry you), and you have a baby and your wife is at home crying because her breasts hurt so bad that she doesn't want to feed her infant, I. HOPE. YOU. THINK. OF. ME.
Sincerely,
Erin
p.s. For the record, I don't think you are sorry. Oh, but I will make you sorry.

Rockin' the Suburbs Again

On Monday afternoon at about 4pm, Richard brought home a new toy.
Guitar Hero III.
I was hesitant to try it, but decided it couldn't hurt...until I saw this:

Lookin gooooooooood.

At 10pm, we realized we hadn't eaten.

Is Hell Frozen?

Check out Uncle Rico's new blog!
(Also known as the Hus.)

Rockin' the Suburbs

Last night after an unfortunate sequence of events that turned out to be completely heavenly ordained, I had the joy of going to see Ben Folds with my brother and sister. It was the first time in years that just the three of us have been able to spend time together, just the three of us.
The music was great, but the real joy of the evening was bonding with the sibs. I spent the evening wondering if they were as happy to be spending time with me as I was with them.
It was hard to be gone from the baby for so many hours, but it was something I definitely needed. I'm completely exhausted today, but once again, it was totally worth it.

One by One

We have ants.

I realize that this statement combined with my last post make us look pretty disgusting. The thing is, I can NOT figure out where they are coming from. I am going to lose my mind. Here's the thing, though. These aren't your normal ants. These are STEALTH ants.

I see one, I remove my boob from the baby's mouth, grab a tissue, stand up to go after the ant, and it's gone. Disappeared. Vanished.

I sit down, put my boob back in the now angry baby's mouth, and it all starts over again.

It's like some sort of cosmic joke--a sick and twisted episode of Seinfeld. An episode where Jerry meets a new family named the Disgustingtons.

* * *

I tried to find an image of an ant on Google, but was so disgusted that I couldn't follow through. Now I swear they're crawling all over me. Bleck.

Wiping

Do you ever start wiping stuff down--the front of the dishwasher, the finger prints off of the fridge, the cupboards--and scoot around the entire kitchen on your butt because you just keep seeing more and more grossness that needs wiping off and disinfecting?
How did it come to be that I live in an entire house of dust, fingerprints and drips?
On the bright side, I no longer need to sweep.

Whimsy

Yesterday at 4pm, Richard and I decided on a whim to drive to Wausau and visit my parents for the weekend.
We left the house three hours later at 7pm.
As I laid down to sleep at 1am, I thought to myself, "No more whims."

Food for Thought

It occurred to me tonight while watching "Idol Gives Back," [gag] to wonder how many other of the millions of viewers had their boob in somebody's mouth.

Dear Haircutting Girl,

Thank you for your congratulations on the new baby.
A note: if you make me take my glasses off, I can't see what you're doing, but I CAN still hear just fine. There is no need to shout to me about any of the following:
-Breast pumps
-Breastmilk, frozen or otherwise
-Mucous plugs
-Post-pregnancy weight (This might have been the worst topic of all. I didn't need you to shout that I will lose all my weight--which, for the record, I already have, so thanks for that.)
Sincerely,
Erin
p.s. You did a good job on my bangs, though.

It's 5:41am

And I'm awake.

Still.

Freckle Face

This weekend, someone said, "Your baby doesn't have freckles yet. Do you think she will?"
I said, "Oh, probably." Smile.
She said, "I'm sure you just hate them, but I think they're adorable."
I didn't think people said stuff like that unless they were at my place of employment...

What stained towels?

Day to Day

My days start at about 11pm lately.
Our current schedule:
11pm-Finish up the last feeding of the day, change baby and get ready for bed.
3am-Feed and change baby.
3:04am-Change baby.
4:15am-Change baby.
4:25am-Snuggle wide awake baby.
4:45am-Put snoozing baby down.
5am-Fall asleep again.
7am-Feed and change baby.
8am-Send baby to snuggle with Daddy in the living room. (Daddy is a morning person.)
8:01am-Fall asleep again.
9am(ish)-Baby goes back to sleep.
11am-Feed and change baby.
12pm-Put baby in swing or bassinet to find something to eat, but decide to pee instead. Forget to eat because baby is fussing.
12:30pm-Change baby.
1pm-Feed and change baby.
1:15pm-Put on different pajamas.
1:30pm-Change baby.
2pm-Change baby.
2:30pm-Baby falls asleep.
3:30pm-Feed and change baby.
4pm-Check out Oprah (Sorry, Carla).
4:30pm-Doze off on couch.
5:30pm-Fold laundry. Move folded laundry to bedroom.
6pm-Load dishwasher.
6:20pm-Consider brusing teeth.
7pm-Watch American Idol
7:15pm-Feed baby, hand to Daddy to change baby.
7:45pm-Change baby.
8pm-Realize I haven't eaten all day.
8:01pm-Eat cereal, toast and potato chips for dinner.
9pm-Shower and brush teeth.
10:30pm-Remember in a panic to APPLY DEODERANT (or else).
11pm-Feed and change baby.

Happy Birthday, Lauren!

You are unBEETable!

Speaking of Green

I calculated our Carbon Footprint today.
Our household produces 20.2 Metric Tons of CO2 per year.
Hunh.

SAHM

A friend sent me this email the other day. I laughed, but didn't think about it too much...until this morning when I realized that I've taken three baths in the last 24 hours and not used soap in any of them.

Dis.gus.ting.

Anyhow, here's the email:

Dear Erin,

I want to officially welcome you to Stay At Home Motherhood!! Youare a SAHM!! YEAH!

Some of the perks include but are not limited to...

-Optional showers

-Jammie day (everyday)

-Sweats when it's not jammie day

-Spit up stains on jammies or sweats

-Leaking

-Spilling

-Let down

-Gazing at a newborn for hours it seems

-Kissing that newbaby face and skin

-Baby Magic smell

-Hours and hours of video footage of sleeping babe,yawning babe, baby with hiccups, baby smiling...

-Quiet nursing time when all is right with the world

-NOT HAVING TO GET UP AND GET GOING OUT THE DOOR TO WORK!!

* * *

Guess what!

I'm not at work.

I think it's time to celebrate. (With soap.)

AI Irritation

Does it irritate anybody else that they're taking questions from viewers now?

When King Louis and Marie Antoinette were executed, do you think they made them wait through an hour of ridiculous questions from the audience and gay interviews of former contestants?

Um, no. Something tells me it was more of a quick job. Like, "Let's just get it over with. We don't need to drag out the inevitable."

I wish American Idol was more of an "OFF WITH THEIR HEADS" type of show.

I'm just saying.

Christ is Risen, Indeed!

Happy Easter, everyone. Richard and I both agree--our salvation means so much more to each of us now that we have a daughter to share eternity with.

Blessings on you and yours on this day that we celebrate Christ's resurrection and our acceptance into His eternal family.

p.s. I feel a little guilty about dressing my daughter in an Easter Bunny outfit, but it's hard to find a sleeper that has the stone rolled away on it.

I'm just saying.

I had a baby.

Check it out.

Ouch

My feelings are hurt.
The animals won't come near me. Remember how protective they were?
Now they aren't ineterested at all.
Sad.

Dear Gertrude,

You crack me up.
Really.
I PROMISE we will let you know when the baby is born. I know we've been coming and going at strange hours. My parents arrived at 9 on Friday night, we left at 7:30 this morning for my appointment. And all kinds of shenanigans in between.
But really. You and Lady don't have to stop and stare every time we are outside at the same time.
I PROMISE Richard will call you guys from the hospital.
I PROMISE.
I'm not taking your calls anymore, ok?
It's not personal, but I never know what to tell you when you call. You are such a sweet (strange) old lady and I adore you for having a crush on my husband. I hope this doesn't hurt your feelings.
All my love,
Erin
p.s. Lady is a really mean little dog. I'm just saying.
p.p.s. Happy St. Patrick's Day.

Get to Work!

Last night, Lauren, Jean and Dad sat on the couch watching me.
Just watching.
When I stood up, they watched, when I walked around, they watched.
I said, "You guys! Stop watching me!"
From the other room, Richard shouted, "Well if you would stop slacking and get to work on this baby we'd all feel better!"
Me, too, my darling husband.
Me, too.

Breakfast

This morning at 4:30 I woke up with a rumbling tummy.
I decided to have a little mid-night snack.
As I was cleaning up, I got close enough to the clock (no glasses) to see that it was actually 6:30.

I guess I'll have Oreos for breakfast.

Retired

As of 3:15 today, I am officially, unofficially retired.

I cried, hard, the whole way home.
Go figure.


p.s. I managed to retire without speaking to the Troublesome Co-Worker in over a week!!!!!
I never say this, but I think that deserves a W00T.

Right of Weigh

Who gets the right of way through a doorway?
An old woman or a pregnant woman?

Fatherly Advice

Dear Troublesome Co-Worker,
My dad has always told my sister and me, "If you are picking up on a feeling from a man that makes you uncomfortable, you are not imagining it. It's there."
I'll be talking with your boss this afternoon.
Enough is enough.
Sincerely,
Erin

All I'm gonna say.

Dang.

Actually, I have one more thing to say--I really see this guy as a hero, and I'm sad to see him go, but I wish he and his family the very best.

Also, I'm really sorry, Richard.

Farewell, My Friends

Never again will I be able to blog from work.
I have spent the week so far training my replacement, which does not--and will not--allow me any time alone with which to blog or even READ the blogs.
Sigh.
I love you all. And I miss you.

On the bright side, when I DO start blogging during the day again...I'll be a new mommy!

working days soon done
new life on the horizon--
still waiting for more.

Big News!

Welcome, Eva Rose Borggren!
I love you already, little girl.

Eva was born this morning at 4:29, weighing 7lbs, 15oz and measuring 21 inches long.

I can hardly wait to watch you grow up and be a part of your life, little one.

9am

By 9am this morning I had dropped the F-bomb three times at work.

Hint: if you send me T.E.N. emails between 6pm and 8pm, I'm not going to get them until the next morning.

Hint: if you send me E.I.G.H.T. "follow up" emails between 8am and 9am, I'm going to stall and not help you.

Hint: if you call me to "follow up," at 9:04am, I'm going to "miss" your call.


TGIF.

We'll see who has the last laugh!

Gram spent the evening in the hospital on Sunday night with chest pains and insanely high blood pressure.
At 102 years old, this sort of thing is bound to happen occasionally.
Once they got her BP and pain under control the doctor asked her if she wanted to spend the night for observation or just go home. She, not surprisingly, just wanted to go home.
Grandma Shirley said to her, "Are you sure, Ma? I mean, if we get home and you drop dead, I'm going to be really mad at you!"
Gram chuckled and said, "I would feel bad about that, but please just don't hit me."
The doctor and nurse looked up accusingly at Shirley, who sat there dumbfounded, knowing full well that Gram was joking too, but the damage was done and she could do nothing but shake her head in shame.

Thank you, Lord, for blessing me with so many generations of humor, love and blog fodder from these sweet, cranky old ladies.

Stew

Lauren wants to make lamb stew for Easter dinner.
I told her only if we call it "The Lion and the Lamb Stew."

I kill myself.

Blue Light Special

Sometimes you just don't quite know what to say.

8:30pm
Richard: Iiiiii'm hunnnnngry.
Erin: What do you want to eat?
Rich: I want to go out to eat.
Erin: Rich, I'm already in my jammies!
Richard makes popcorn.

9:30pm
Richard: Iiiiii'm hunnnnnnnnnnnngry! Why won't you go out with me?
Erin: Rich! It's 9:30! I'm not going anywhere, you goofball.
Richard heats up a bowl of soup.

10:30pm
Richard: Iiiiiiii'm ssooooooooo HUUUUNNNNNNNNGGGGRRRRYYYY!
Erin: OK! Let's go. I'll put clothes on.
Richard: No. It's ok. We don't have to go anywhere. [SIGH]
Erin: Ok, why don't you have some peanut butter toast? That will help fill you up.
Richard: We have that?!
Erin: Yes...
Richard hops up and goes into the kitchen
Shortly thereafter, the lights in the house flicker, the microwave is heard, followed immediately by a flash of blue light and the distinct sound of electronics dying.
Richard: Oops.
Erin: WOW! What did you do?
Richard: I put the peanut butter in the microwave.

Neti Pot

Self: Time to try the Neti Pot.

Myself: Yeah! It's not even 7am yet. Let's go for it!

Self: Oprah recommends it and I'm about ready to try anything.

Myself: Well if Oprah recommends it...

Self: Hey, the products she recommends are typically pretty good.

Myself: Well if Oprah started a school in Africa for underpriveledged girls, would you start one, too?

Self: Don't be stupid.

Myself: Fine. Go nuts. There's no way this is going to end well.

Self: OK, empty the packet of salt, run the hot water, stir and...bottoms up!

Myself: Bottoms up!

Self: Nostril one--not so bad! On to the next.

Myself: Tip your head back...thaaaat's the way.

Self: What's this?!? NO! No! NOOO this is all wrong! There's not supposed to be salt water coming out my mouth![Gag! Gag, hack, cough. Tears.]

Myself: Oh yeah...you're supposed to tip your head FORWARD, stupid.

Self: We are in a fight.

Myself: You did this to yourself.

"Give yourself lots of grace."

Dear Jen and Kara Jo,
Thank you for the much-needed encouragement yesterday at church.
It really meant a lot to me.
Love,
Erin

Richard's Funny #24 for 2008

On the way to my doctor's appointment on Wednesday, I called Richard.
We were planning to meet at the Fleet Farm on highway 36 to park his car and then ride together.
"I'm out of gas," I said. "Are you almost there?"
He said, "Yeah, I'm pulling in now."
"Cool--will you watch for me and then pump my gas for me so I don't have to do it?"
"Right there in front of all those people?"

Mystery Solved: Space Eels

Well, friends and brethren. Have I got a story for you.
A little background:
I've been waking up with a bloody nose quite frequently lately. I just chalked it up to the fact that the climate is so dry right now, and my pregnancy (did you know that your blood volume increases by 50% while you're pregnant?!). SO...the bloody noses are annoying and frequent, but I can deal.
WELL.
Last night the BANGING and POPPING were back, coming from the roof.
Thankfully, Richard was home, so I woke him up and made him crawl into the attic. (It's amazing what a pregnant girl can get her husband to do!)
You will not believe what he found up there.
My Troublesome Co-Worker!!
Turns out, Trouble has been hiding out in our attic and sending down NOT Space Eels, but robotic nose worms to burrow into my schnoz at night and record data about my pregnancy, which is sent directly to him via email. Apparently he's gotten pretty desperate since I told him to get lost (I never reported to you, gentle readers, but I told him to get lost about 2 weeks ago). The banging and popping was coming from the worms themselves. Apparently, unless they are well contained (which. they. weren't.), they make all kinds of crazy noises and jump around like jumping beans...until they are sent on mission. They can be as quiet as...worms...when they are sent for a particular nose.
Richard popped open a can of spinach, and you can guess what happened next. (HUCK-ga-ga-ga-ga.)
As Rich was kicking some Co-Worker butt, I was able to get some things off my chest. With each blow, I said:
"Figure out how to change the paper in the copier yourself!"
"I never, EVER want to hear the word 'episiotomy' from you again!"
"Stop keeping track of how many caffeinated beverages I drink, you weirdo!"
"No, I don't want your kid's exer-saucer! Or potty-training manual! Or your wife's breast pump!"
"I never, EVER want to hear the words, 'breast pump' from you again!"
"For the last time, MY NUMBER ONE PET PEEVE IS WHEN PEOPLE COMMENT ON WHAT I AM EATING! Shut! Your! Mouth!"
"And get out of my attic, you freak."

Man, what a night.





You can't make this shit up.
Oh, wait.

Watching American Idol

I don't care who ya are. That's funny.















Our photographer, to answer your questions.

Big Bang Theory

I am home alone.
Richard left on Sunday morning to go to Milwaukee for some business meetings and will return tonight.
My first evening home alone was uneventful. Lauren spent the night with me and I slept soundly.
Last night was a little more interesting.
At 3:30, I heard a very loud BANG followed by Pedro growling. I sat up in bed (positive that by exposing my back to the wall that I was sacrificing any safety I might have had by staying in bed), groped for my glasses and turned on the light. Pedro was still growling and the cat ran for the back door.
WHAT was going on?
After several hours (ok, seconds), I texted Richard (as if he could help me), and stumbled to the bathroom, turning on every light that I passed.
I continued to hear very loud bangs and I was convinced that the boogey man was trying to get in through the roof to steal my baby and leave me for dead (nice, huh? Thanks, local news.).
I left most of the lights burning and went back to bed. Still, bangs were coming from overhead, but Pedro had stopped growling so I began to relax enough to THINK.
That's when I came up with this theory:
The temperature literally went from 35 degrees to 20 degrees below zero over a period of 36 hours. There was a lot of moisture in the air when it warmed up, and I can only imagine in the wooden eaves of our roof. As the temperature dropped quickly, that moisture had to go somewhere, resulting in the loud popping and banging that woke the three of us up.
I'm a freaking genius.

This entire scenario took place over the course of about 4 minutes--one tenth of the time it took me to type it all out.

Never let them see you cry.

You know those days where something really stupid happens, and you lose your temper because of how lame it is, and you stick up for yourself because you're tired of being spoken to like you're an idiot, so you ask for more respect and then you GET it, and you're so worked up and stunned that they conceded the point that you can barely keep it together until they're gone (after. giving. you. a. hug.) and then you burst into tears at your desk just in time for your boss to come out and ask if you're ok and you suddenly look like a ridiculous hormonal pregnant woman, and you know exactly how it looks because you're 9 months pregnant, which makes you cry more, because the truth is that hormones have nothing to do with it, and sticking up for yourself has been a long time coming and you're only sorry that you waited til you have 3 weeks left to do it?

I hate those days.

Sing a Song

This morning I had to run back into the house after I had already kissed Richard goodbye (I'm trying to cut down on time away from my cell phone, what with Cara just ABOUT to give birth, and the fact that I, myself, am a ticking time bomb...).
When I got inside, I thought I could hear something strange.
At first I thought Rich was on the phone, but it seemed way too cheerful for a 7:30am phone call.
"Rich?" I shouted.
Nothing, just the continued sing-song banter coming from somewhere in the house.
"Richard?!"
Silence.
"Yeah...?"
"Who are you talking to?"
"No one."
"Were you singing?"
"No..."
"What were you doing?"
"Singing. To Pedro."

Made my whole morning. Too stinking cute.

p.s. I'm banking on the fact that Rich won't read my blog today because he's too busy. I think he'd kill me if he knew I was posting this.

Lovesick

I need Love Potion Number 9.

Really.

I'm so in love that I spent the day in bed with...Pedro, sniffling, shivering and snoring.

Oh, and blowing my nose.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Things that make you go, "Ewww."

Today, Angie posted about getting her oil changed.

Well, her story made me think of another story.

My sister's best friend from Alabama was riding in the car with her little brother when one of them (I forget which) said, "I smell hamburgers. Do you smell hamburgers?"

The other one said, "Yeah, I do!"

That was the end of the conversation.

They later found a very cooked mouse near the engine block.

Ewww.

Pyramid of Excellence

This morning I woke up at 6:44. Not cool, since I needed to leave the house at 7 in order to make it to the breakfast hosted by our Vice President honoring the fact that I was nominated for the Pyramid of Excellence Award, along with four others from our division.
Richard ironed my shirt while I fixed my hair and face and flew out the door.
I made it to work in 20 minutes, and ran-walked as fast as I could to the conference room.
One of my co-workers commented that he hadn't seen me move that fast in a long time. True.
I made it to the conference room in good time and even managed to fix a plate before the VP started speaking.
WELL.
Turns out this wasn't a breakfast for the nominees. It was a breakfast for the WINNERS of the Pyramid of Excellence. Good thing we ironed my shirt.
I wish I had had ten extra seconds to brush my hair and lint roll, but we all have our moments, I guess.
It's a strange feeling winning an award for something you didn't expect...or particularly feel deserving of. I could go on about all the ways I don't think I deserve an award (Come on! You all know about my work attitude!), but I won't. It's just another one of those things that makes me wonder how other people see me.

Next Episode

Dear Past Erin,
Snoop Dogg featuring Dr. Dre is never appropriate for the workplace.
Turn your iPod down when you walk away from your desk.
Just trust me.
Sincerely yours,
Future Erin

p.s. What you don't know CAN hurt you. Some of your co-workers are huge fans. Especially the troublesome ones. Just an FYI.
p.p.s. Hold up.

Nights Like These

You know those nights where you think you're awake because you're still thinking about LOST, when all of a sudden your spouse asks if you need help turning over because you're snoring, and rather than argue, you let him help you turn over because you're so confused, but then you realize you couldn't possibly have been snoring because you were wide awake and thinking about LOST, but then you look at the clock and it's 3:32am, so you must have been asleep, so you mention to your spouse that you think that the person on the boat is someone Ben let go off the island and has been trying to find his way back and your spouse responds that he thinks it's someone from Ben's team which hadn't occurred to you in all your hours of thinking about it, and now you have to pee (bad), so you struggle to sit up with a firm push from your spouse on your backside and immediately knock your glasses on the floor, to which your spouse says, "I'll get 'em. Can you make it without your glasses?" and you say, "I guess. I just don't want to step on them," so you stumble to the bathroom, come back to bed and then lay awake thinking about LOST for another hour before your spouse asks you if you need help turning over again?

I have never had a night like that. Thank goodness. That would really suck.

She's one of THEM now.

This morning, Richard told me with sadness in his voice that Lauren would not be watching LOST with us tonight.
I said, "I know, she told me. I wonder why not? Did she tell you?"
"No. I think she has better friends than us."
"Or maybe she has to work?"
"No. I just know she's watching it with The Others."

Dear Dad,

I hope you don't mind, but I used you today.
Well, sort of.
I needed to return your call, but chose to do it just as Troublesome Co-Worker was approaching my desk.
As it went to your voicemail and he was still standing here looking at me, I covered the receiver and said sweetly, "Do you need something? It's going to be quite a while."
He said, "Um, muhm mumblity fumblity foom moom," and walked away.
I left you a message and made three other phone calls lest Co-Worker should think I was finished working.
I hope you don't mind,
All my love,
Erin
p.s. I really think I might be on to something. You may have more phone calls to look forward to over the next 26 days. Do you mind if I call you seven times per day?

E.M.A.I.L.: an anagram for T.O.R.T.U.R.E.

Dear Other Co-Worker,
Check. Your. Freaking. Email.
I don't feel like I should have to come looking for you (PREGNANT!) to tell you that I sent you an email.
Out of breath,
Erin

Guys don't make passes at girls who wear glasses.

Dear Troublesome Co-Worker,
Does my blank stare really not do it for you?
Honestly, you're not picking up on any bad vibes? None?
Please stop sitting on my desk.
Please stop touching my stuff. Yes, I have a cool iPod. I also have a cool phone.
No, my purses are not new and were not Christmas presents. Why are you paying attention?
Richard, my husband, likes my hair better down, too. I'll remember that. Thanks.
Actually, I'm not all that studious (though well-read, if I do say so myself). When you're eight and a half months pregnant, you tend to carry some extra fluid, and strangely enough, my contacts don't fit right anymore because of it.
Nope, they're not new glasses.
Um, I've only gained 23 pounds.
What do you weigh?
How's. The. Wife?
Sincerely,
Erin
p.s. I'm fine.
p.p.s. Please pass this on to Dom.


Gentle Reader, lest you be confused, Dom and the Troublesome Co-Worker are NOT the same person. That's right. These guys are my cross to bear. It's been this way my entire life. I've got socially-inept-nice-guy disease. I just can't seem to shake it.


Anyone who catches the reference to Jane Eyre wins a prize.

Karma's a...

On Saturday, Mom and I braved Walmart.

We shouldn't have done it, in retrospect, but we were feeling adventurous.

While trying to park, Mom got herself into a little bit of a bind. She couldn't stop because of the way she was situated in the lane, but couldn't keep going because a pedestrian was trying to cross.

Long story short (but definitely not the end of the world), the pedestrian had to step back on to the curb to make room for us. She, apparently, was offended by this and flipped Mom off.

Imagine it! A pedestrian flipping off a driver--practically in slow motion, or, under 10mph anyway. I would NEVER be that brave.

Well, we spent an hour or so in the store doing our shopping and while Mom waited in the checkout line, I ran back up to customer service to pick something up. As I made my way back to where Mom was waiting, I saw the girl who flipped us off.

A 1-gallon jug of tomato juice had just exploded all over her groceries.

Sucks, don't it?

Finally some pics!

Here are some pics (thanks, Naomi!) of the newest "family" member.
Dang, just looking at the pictures again...I just love her so much!

I can't believe she's finally here!

Welcome to the world,

Natalie Ann Sorenson!

Born February 1, 2008 at 2:11am

Weighing 6 pounds, 14 ounces and measuring 19.5 inches long.

She has more BLACK hair than her daddy!

We are thrilled at your arrival, little girl. I will pray for you and love you and teach you as long as I can. I can't wait to see you grow into a Godly woman, wife and mother.

I love you already!

*I forgot my camera at home when we went to visit, so I will have to post pictures later!

Funniest.

Thing. EVER.
Seriously. I'm 8.5 months pregnant. I had to run to the bathroom.
Thanks, Brenda, for the link.

Paper or Plastic

Warning: Not for the weak of stomach nor the faint of heart. Rated PG-13 for language.

The garbage disposal is on the fritz.
Well, not really. Hamburger grease or something like it got poured down the drain and mucked everything up to the point where the kitchen sink wouldn't drain and in fact, vomited up a bunch of partially dispos-all-ed food from the last 4 to 5 days.
Awesome, right?
Well, Richard went in like a champ. I couldn't watch, but I helped him clean out under the sink so he had a clear work area and retreated to the living room to wait for the inevitable.
When I heard, "$^!t! F%@&! D@*#!" from the kitchen, I got up, retrieved as many towels as I could carry and delivered them to my soaking, stinking, greasy husband and tried not to make any snide comments about kitchen-related Tourette's syndrome.
End of story? We are currently without a kitchen sink. Apparently one of the pipes was completely rusted out, which is not what caused the initial problem, but now it can't be put back together until it's fixed.
Hopefully we'll be back in business tonight, but until then we will either eat out or use paper plates.

Close! But no cigar...

Oh, so close.
Richard had the opportunity to meet my troublesome co-worker today!
We went to the company store over lunch and ran into him. I said, "Richard this is my co-worker that I was telling you about, remember? His name is Blank Blanketyblank."
I watched Richard's face for any sign of recognition, for his eyes to light up at the mention of his name. Nothing. I thought, 'Wow, Richard is a good faker.' They shook hands and chatted (which consisted of many compliments to me and actual finger-pointing on Blank's part at my pregnant tummy) and then we went our separate ways.
As we walked to the car, I waited for Richard to say something.
Finally I said, "So, what did you think?"
"Think of what?"
"That was HIM!!"
"WHAT?! That was HIM? Man, if I had known that, I would have given him the death grip! He would have remembered me for days."
Sigh...

That ONE Thing

Do you ever have something on your shopping list that you forget repeatedly?

I hit Walmart, Walgreens or Target at least twice a week. Usually more.

There is no excuse for the fact that we are completely out of toothpaste.

We have squeezed every bit out of our full-sized tubes. and two travel sized tubes.

Yet somehow it just doesn't occur to me to pick some up at the store one of the zillions of times I am running in for milk, or yarn, or something else not nearly as important as dental hygiene.

Will somebody please remind me to get some toothpaste this weekend? I have a lot of shopping to do, but you know I'm going to forget.

GAP

I just had a text message exchange with Lauren.

It went like this:

Erin: How are you?

Lauren: Good. How are you?

E: Bored out of my effing mind.

L: You should talk to J. She spends every day pretending to work.

E: Every single day, Lauren.

L: It's cool. I organized panties today.

Point taken.

Rad New Blog

For some reason, I forgot to mention to everybody that Jodi has started a blog!
Check it out--it's really very good. : )
Welcome to blogworld, Jodi!!
Love you!
p.s. Isn't this a cool photo?
p.p.s. Jodi and I are due within two days of each other!

Things I am NOT

I'm getting a little frustrated with my current occupation today.
This has led me to make a list of things that I am not:
1. fast moving about something I don't care about.
2. hard-hearted.
3. much of a listener.
4. a mind reader.
5. good at reading between the lines.
6. a helper.
7. a uni-tasker (see #3).
8. a rule follower.
9. an organizer.
10. a freaking school nurse (buy your own ibuprophen, people).
11. good at adjusting my own bad attitudes.
12. a plain old secretary.
13. stupid.

Things that I am:
1. still fine.
2. struggling not to curse a LOT in this post, but I know that Sheri reads it and I don't want her to know that I want to say the F-word, plus Kelli totally made fun of me last time I used it.


Today marks 35 WORK days to go until my due date.

35 days, 35 days, 35 days...

A New Approach

Dear Same Particular Co-Worker,
I have a new idea.
I'm going to call you by the wrong name from now on to see if you get the idea that we are not friends.
Sincerely,
Erin
p.s. I'm still fine. Really!

Silent No More

On this day in 1973, Roe v Wade was passed, making abortion legal in the United States.

On Saturday morning I had the privilege and profound joy of going to listen to Carla give her testimony with Silent No More Minnesota at the State Capital in St. Paul. I was stunned to learn many statistics about abortion, all of which led me to some very important realizations:
Women DO regret their abortions.
Women ARE hurt emotionally and physically by abortion.
Men DO regret abortions.
Men ARE hurt emotionally by abortion.

I will join Carla today in praying that hearts and minds will be changed about abortion. I will also continue to pray for Carla as she honors God by reaching out in love with her story and without judgement to both pregnant and post-abortive women.

Dear Future Erin,

Where were you today when I was eating cheese popcorn in my white shirt?
You really let me down on that one.
Sincerely,
Present Erin

p.s. We. Are. In. A. Fight.

Dear Past Erin,

You're not going to believe this, but Brett Favre is going to throw infinity interceptions during the playoff game against the Giants, including one in OverTime that will lead to their immediate loss.

Richard will take this very hard.

In fact, when you tell him this loss makes you feel like your cat died, he will tell you that would have been easier to handle.

Don't take it personally. He doesn't mean it.

Sincerely,

Future Erin

p.s. He TOTALLY means it.

Hello Moto-Miracle

All day yesterday, I couldn't send any messages or make any phone calls from my cell phone.
By 5pm as I was walking into the unbelievably crowded T-Mobile store, I was fed. up.
I told the girl, "I am fed. up. with my phone! It won't work!" I described to her the trouble I was having and as I unzipped my coat (to prove it) said, "I am eight months pregnant! I have to have a phone that works!"
"Oh, man," she said. "That's not good. Can you even call your voicemail?"
"No," I said."
"Oh, that's very bad."
Great, I thought. I'm gonna have to buy a new phone. What a pain. I'm going to be here for hours.
Then she took my phone apart, took out the SIM card, put it in a little gadget, and gave me a new card.
I have no idea what she did, but my phone works great.
I was out of there FOR FREE in under 15 minutes.
It's a Moto-Miracle.

Why or What?

I dreamt two nights ago that one of my co-workers asked me either, "Why are you a Christian, Erin?" or "What kind of a Christian are you, Erin?"
I couldn't remember which question she asked as soon as I woke up.
Either way, it troubled me.
Oswald Chambers asks, "Has there been a point in your life which you now mark as your last day? Is there a place in your life to which you go back in memory with humility and overwhelming gratitude, so that you can honestly proclaim, 'Yes, it was then, at my 'white funeral,’ that I made an agreement with God.'"
My last day came in 1998. I had given my life to Christ in our basement on Vine Street at the age of five, and I earnestly believe that I was filled with the Holy Spirit at that time. I do not believe that I began the path to sanctification until 1998, one day in my bedroom in Alabama. The details are not important, but it happened. *Upon further thought, that's a silly thing to say. Of course, I was on the path to sanctification. I don't think I understood its importance until that day in Alabama.
Shortly thereafter, God proved his love to me by opening my eyes (literally) to a spiritual realm beyond my comprehension...and protecting me from it.
Chambers goes on to write,

When we talk about the call of God, we often forget the most important thing, namely, the nature of Him who calls [...] The call is the expression of the nature of the One who calls, and we can only recognize the call if that same nature is in us. The call of God is the expression of God’s nature, not ours. God providentially weaves the threads of His call through our lives, and only we can distinguish them. It is the threading of God’s voice directly to us over a certain concern, and it is useless to seek another person’s opinion of it.
[...]
The call of God is not a reflection of my nature; my personal desires and temperament are of no consideration. As long as I dwell on my own qualities and traits and think about what I am suited for, I will never hear the call of God. [...] The majority of us cannot hear anything but ourselves. And we cannot hear anything God says. But to be brought to the place where we can hear the call of God is to be profoundly changed.

I can see where God has woven the threads of His call through my life from the age of five, to seventeen, to my marriage at 23, and into the growth He has insisted upon in the last eight months as I prepare for my baby.
Over the past year, I've been continually asking..."Who am I in Christ?"
The bottom line? If you ask, God will answer you. It hurts, and it sucks, and it's intensely emotional, but it seems to be satisfying, comforting and RIGHT...I think. I'll let you know.

I know why the caged bird sings.

Dear One Particular Co-Worker,
This note is going to be very forward, because so far subtleties have escaped you.
You have grown overly troublesome.
In fact, so troublesome that I'm not sure you're worth the...trouble.
I am about to start being mean to you.
Yesterday you visited my desk SEVEN times. Today, it's only been four, but I'm pretty sure that when you came to my desk to stretch your back (remember when you leaned on my cube and literally stretched?) and I looked at you like you were a complete fool, you got the idea that four times is enough.
Let's just cut to the chase: perhaps you could just come by once a day. Or even better, how about you only come by if you absolutely need something, which, by my record has not been since November.
In response to future conversation topics:
-It's cool that your baby needed a diaper change last night.
-No, there is nothing that I need from your baby stuff.
-Yes, it looks pretty cold outside.
-My pregnancy is still going just fine. It hasn't changed much since this morning. Or yesterday, for that matter.
-I'm glad you printed something.
-No thanks, I already have lunch plans--forever.
-No, you cannot have my cell phone number. It is not a work phone number.
I feel that at this point I should let you know that I have changed my regular route from the door to my desk so as to avoid anything completely stupid that you might say to me as I pass by. The extra steps are worth it.
I appreciate that you have never touched me, really. If you should happen to feel the need, my husband will have something to say to you, as will Swamp-Man.
Please back off, dude.
I don't know what gave you the impression that I liked you. Honestly, I can't remember doing anything that would make you think I wanted to talk.
Lest you should think this letter is tongue-in-cheek, I would like to return your attention to the top of this letter and remind you that subtleties have failed. Don't fool yourself. I'm not bantering.
Sincerely,
Erin

p.s. The next time you tease me about being pregnant, I retort, and then you say, "Ohhh, don't mess with the pregnant girl!" I will not be held responsible for my actions. Consider yourself warned.
p.p.s I borderline hate you.
p.p.p.s. Only borderline because it's wrong to hate.

True Story

For Christmas, Lauren gave Grandma Shirley a pair of house boots, similar to the ones shown here (I found this photo on ebay).

She was wearing them around the house when Gram (almost 102 years old) said to her, "With every step you take, I can see your balls swinging."

-----

*I'm pretty sure she'd kill me if she knew I'd published this, but some things are just too perfect.

Always the Groomsman

This weekend, Richard got asked to be in another wedding. He and I laughed as we tried to count the number of weddings he's been in. We couldn't count them all.
I can think of eight weddings off the top of my head and he has two more coming up in April. Needless to say, Rich has the groomsman thing down pat, and can even give one heck of a Best Man's Toast. He also throws a pretty great bachelor party.

This got me to thinking.
What is it about my man that so many other men want his presence in their weddings?
This got me thinking about friendships.
I really think that when it comes to friendship, men do a better job than women.
Case in point:
-Forgetting a birthday: not that big of a deal.
-Forgetting about boys night: big deal.
-Missing a new haircut, pair of glasses, facial hair, etc.: no big deal.
-Missing a new truck or motorcycle: big deal.
Other things that seem to make a male friendship work:
-Grabbing, pinching, twisting, or hitting.
-Name calling / nicknames.
-Silly voices.
-Semi-perverted text messages.
-Quietly listening to each other and not offering advice, unless asked.
-Offering to help out, and meaning it.
-Showing up to help out.
-Returning phone calls.
-Answering phone calls.
-Sticking up for (and protecting when necessary) each other's wives.
-Not holding grudges.
-Making commitments.
-Keeping commitments.
-Picking wise battles (that usually end in grabbing, pinching, twisting or hitting).
-Showing mercy to each other.

Oswald Chambers writes, "True friendship is rare on earth. It means identifying with someone in thought, heart, and spirit. The whole experience of life is designed to enable us to enter into this closest relationship with Jesus Christ."
I agree that true friendship is rare on earth, and while I don't think there will be much pinching or name calling in heaven, I guess if so many young men want Richard in their weddings, he must be a pretty good friend.

Dear Past Erin,

When you get up in the night looking for a snack in the wee hours of January 14, you will spill an open and precariously balanced 1lb bag of M&M's all over the carpeted hallway near the pantry.
This will be a real pain in the ass.
Sincerely,
Future Erin

p.s. Hillary doesn't win, don't worry. But it ain't pretty.

Dog Whisperer

Pedro needed reminding last night that I am indeed in charge.

I am the mommy.

I am the Alpha dog.

I turned him over on his back to force him to submit to me, and I held him there by his throat(Gently, of course. The exercise was not intended to hurt, only to remind him of who needs to submit to whom in our relationship...), all the while maintaining eye contact.

I didn't tell him he was bad, I didn't hit him, I didn't even yell.

I simply firmly reminded him that I. Am. In. Charge.

Forever and ever, amen.

Oh, did I mention that we're trying a new discipline technique at our house?

For future reference, will this work for toddlers?

I think Cesar would have been proud.

Could've Had a Middle Finger

Shortly after my family moved back to Hudson in 2002, my mom and I were on Vine Street at that stop sign right in front of the high school. The two boys in the Honda in front of us both flipped off the school.
That just didn't make sense to me. How dumb to flip off a building, right? I've thought about it for six years now. I just didn't get it. It's a building. It doesn't even care if you pee on it. It doesn't have feelings, or even a sense of propriety (not to be confused with a sense of property! Oh, I kill myself!).
Today on my way back from my chiro appointment with my drive thru lunch on the seat next to me, I passed a billboard that featured a photo of a half-eaten order of french fries and the tagline "Could've had a V8."
I get it now.
I get why those boys flipped off something that couldn't even see them.

Dear Past Erin,

Do not leave your Omega-3 Fish Oil pills out.
You leave one on your nightstand on the evening of January 9, where the cat finds it, plays with it, knocks it on the floor and shares it with the dog. You are very sad about this.
Sincerely,
Future Erin

p.s. The coffee is poisoned!
p.p.s. The dog will pee in the same spot in your bedroom exactly 438 more times before he is hit by a car, strangely enough, in your own driveway.
-F.E.

The Minors

Drinkin' nasty beer and breakin' hearts;
Givin' yourself tattoos with throwin' darts;
It's a Southern man thing.

-Chuck Steak, 2002-ish

This site is rated PG-13 for mild profanity, but is worth a read, especially when you learn that Charlie is a loooooong lost friend of mine from Alabama and as such, holds a special place in my heart. Welcome to blogworld, Chuck Steak.

Three Years

On July 31, 2004, Richard and I were running errands in Oakdale and decided to stop for Chinese food at our favorite dirty, disgusting, hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant.

Richard had been acting pretty weird all day and even mentioned over lunch that we might stop at the humane society and look at the cats. This was something I wanted to do for ages, but Rich said we should at least be engaged before we got a cat together.

I thought this was all out of the ordinary, but didn't pay much attention--I was dreaming about my future kitty!

When we sat down for lunch, Richard was very strange. He bounced through the entire meal, perched on the edge of the booth. He ate about three bites of his favorite Sesame Chicken. I said, "Why aren't you eating? What's wrong with you?"

"Nothin', I'm just not very hungry."

"Alright, well, I'm gonna dig in, then..."

I ate to my hearts content and chatted through lunch, ignoring what I assumed was an ADD fit on the part of my nutso boyfriend.

When we (I) finished eating, the owner brought out our fortune cookies, unwrapped on a plate.

"It's cookie time!" she shrieked as she hurried back to the kitchen. She and the cook peeked out at us.

Richard grabbed one of the cookies and stuffed half of it in his mouth.

I left mine on the plate.

"Aren't you gonna eat your cookie?"

"No...I don't really like fortune cookies. Plus, it's unwrapped. That's sorta gross."

"Don't you at least want to see what your fortune says??"

"I guess so."

I opened the remaining cookie and read, "I love you, Erin Duffert. Will you marry me?"

I was flabberghasted. What was my name doing in a fortune cookie??

Richard came around to my side of the booth and got down on one knee.

"Will you marry me?"

I'm pretty sure I said yes. Honestly, I can't remember. My brain was still trying to catch up with everything that was going on!

Rich said, "Do you want your ring?"

"Yes!"

"It's in the cookie!"

Sure enough, there was my DREAM engagement ring hidden in a cookie.

We married 6 months later on January 8, 2005, three years ago today. The best decision of my entire life.

Recently, I stopped at the China House to pick up some Sesame Chicken to bring home for dinner, and the owner said, "Hello, Erin!! When is the baby coming?!" She didn't even know I was pregnant. She just knew it was about time for the baby to come. : )

Insulation Nation

Remember the ice issues we were having?
Today, Richard and Aaron put 12 more inches of insulation in our attic.
Honestly, it's warmer in here already.
Sarah and I had a great time watching movies and eating Sheri's DELICIOUS brownies while our husbands got more filthy by the minute.
































Click on this image to zoom in and check out Richard's face. Even his eyelashes are covered!
















**Update a couple of hours later**
The ice dams are falling off the roof in big chunks! Thank you, God for high temperatures and a hard working husband.

Another one bites the dust...

This poor guy took it like a champ.

3:33

This morning, I woke up at 3:31 to go to the bathroom.
I remember the days when, 1. I didn't wake up in the middle of the night for anything, and 2. Getting out of bed to do anything was EASY. In fact, I remember when doing anything in bed was easy...alas, I digress.
By the time I made it back to bed it was 3:33.
I thought to myself, "Quick, make a wish!"
I wished to be on time for work today.
At 3:34, I thought, "Well that was a waste of a wish."

New Years Rockin' Crab Fest

Josh and Cara invited over Rich and me, along with Sarah, Aaron and Wayne to ring in the new year with a crab leg feast.
Between 6 people (Richard wouldn't eat any!), we ate 12lbs of crab legs!
Chef Aaron made them so delicious...honestly, it was divine.
We stayed well past midnight drinking sparkling grape juice and playing games.
I had so much fun, in fact, that I forgot to take more pictures.
Here's the few I brought home.