Archive for October, 2012

Published by PaintingChef on 25 Oct 2012

Because this seems like the best thing to follow a story about accidentally making meth in the trunk of my car.

It’s kind of crazy how, just when you think you’ve settled on one thing your heart strings up and do a 180 on you and suddenly WHAM you are in completely uncharted waters preparing to open your entire life up to total strangers.

Maybe I should back up?

It’s simple really… Patrick and I have decided to adopt. There it is. We were initially considering international adoption but that truth is that, quite frankly, we can’t be out of the country and away from work for as long as we would have to be in order to complete all the paperwork. I hate even saying that because it totally reads “workaholic” but it’s just the reality of a small, family-owned business. Two-thirds of our daily office staff cannot be on an open-ended trip to Asia or Africa. And I think it’s not something that Patrick or I could not do together.

So… we are learning. We are looking at all the paperwork. We are realizing that maybe we should have life insurance. (Don’t judge.) We are composing letters to birth mothers and making scrapbooks about our life. We are collecting letters of reference from people who know us. We are making appointments with doctors and lawyers and Indian chiefs. Wait… scratch that last one… We are putting out the word that we are looking to adopt a baby. The internet says that’s a good idea. It weirds me out a little, I can’t lie. But here I am. Putting it out there into the world.

There are so many avenues to pursue. Private, Open, Closed, Government, I have no idea. I’m terrified. We are preparing to open up our entire lives for evaluation and I’m just hoping and praying that I didn’t screw this all up 15 years ago before I even knew what I was doing.

Our plan was let’s have our wonderful trip (and we did) and then we will look again at this whole parent thing. We’ve put it on the back burner long enough. I’m 35. He’s 34. We’re never going to feel adult enough but maybe we will figure it out. Everyone else does, right? But as I’ve ignored the elephant in the room, one thing was CRYSTAL clear. The fertility treatments? No. I’m done. No more. NOTHING. I’m not going back there.

And despite what those people who think they’ve got all the answers want to tell you, without lots of intervention, it ain’t happening. I don’t need to relax. Starting this process is NOT what is going to get me pregnant. But no matter how hard I’ve tried to ignore it, I DO still want to be a mother.

I was in line at the grocery store on Monday, having spent the better part of my workday doing research, when I noticed that in front of me was a girl who didn’t look a day over 16 (which means she was 25 as I FAIL as age-guessing) buying a pregnancy test. Behind me? Same. Thing. I went home and asked Patrick if it was too early to start handing out my number to every minor buying a pregnancy test. He said yes, he hasn’t saved up enough bail money yet.

Here’s the question though… where those girls a sign or just confirmation that the universe is kind of a dick sometimes?

Published by PaintingChef on 18 Oct 2012

A trifecta of drug references with a side of grape jelly.

Wednesday afternoon Patrick was up on a ladder hanging our newly repainted midnight blue shutters (it only took me 5 years to notice that they were teal blue and that it wasn’t 1989) and I was standing at the foot of the ladder telling him all the wonderfully productive things I was about to go do… like laundry and cleaning and kidnapping Michelle Obama’s stylist.

So imagine his surprise when he found me in the driveway, 15 minutes later, still in my work clothes, standing in the middle of a mountain of soap suds and cursing up a storm while spraying a big square of gray carpet with the hose. ANGRILY.

“Do I even want to know?”

“Oh. This? Yeah. So. The other day I was running errands and I remembered that we needed bleach and dishwashing soap and like a million other cleaning things so I went to the Dollar Store and I stocked up for like forty-seven cents.”

“The forty-seven cents store?”

“Yes. That. Fine. But then I forgot about everything for a few days until today and went I went to get everything out of my truck, one of the bottle of dish soap had exploded and so now I’m here. Doing this.”

“Good lord… what else did you get? How many bags are here?”

“I don’t know… a few. Just cleaning stuff. Bleach. Windex. Oven Cleaner. Bathroom Cleaner. Dish Soap. Air Freshener. Shit like that. Plus I got some Sudafed because I feel a little sniffle coming on. And some grape jelly so I can try and make those weird meatballs with the barbecue sauce and grape jelly that are kind of secretly awesome and hard to quit like crack.”

“And you’ve just been driving around with all this rattling around in your trunk for how long?”

“A few days. I don’t know. What’s the big deal? In case you haven’t noticed I’m over here HAVING AN IMPROMPTU FOAM PARTY! WHY ARE YOUR PANTS STILL ON AND WHY AM I NOT TRIPPING ON SHROOMS RIGHT NOW?”

“You do realize that you’ve been driving around with an accidental meth lab in the trunk of your car, right?”

“Huh. Who would’ve thought that WOULDN’T be the dumbest thing I’ve done this week? Wait… you need grape jelly to make meth?”

“Yes. But only the really good kind.”

“Seriously. Pants. WHY?”