Can't wait to freeze my can off

The Nash family is officially off (no jokes there, please) to Massachusetts tomorrow. Hopefully no burglars are reading this. If they are, know my large, mean dog has serious ninja skills.

We will be staying in Hyannis Thursday night, then Addison and I will be in Plymouth the rest of our stay. We are going to try to get into the Fenway tour on Friday. I'll try to steal something real cool without getting thrown in the pokey.

My BFF Ely is in the hospital while we speak. She went to the hospital yesterday because she lost her mucus plug (it's okay if you don't know what that is, because I didn't either til I had a kid). They sent her home because there were already too many women having babies at the time. I guess I can understand that because there's probably not much to do up in Wisconsin besides fornicate and eat cheese.

She texted me at 3 a.m. that she was at the hospital and her husband Brian would text or call me once the baby came. I haven't heard anything since then, about 10 1/2 hours. I'm a little worried, of course, because I have no idea what's going on, but I'm also superexcited my nephew is ready to join the world.

So I guess I'll go pack (read:throw clothes in a suitcase) to get rid of my nervous energy (both for the baby and for traveling). Please keep Ely and her family in your happy thoughts and prayers.

The Cuddle Bubbles

That is the official name of the Nash family band. Well, for now. We are the proud new owners of Rock Band, which includes a guitar, drums and a microphone. We've rocked out a couple songs, especially Bon Jovi's Dead or Alive. Gotta love that song.

Once we get a memory card for the PS2 (Addison lost all of his he claims, I think he's just looking for them like a man) we will rename our band. Any good ideas? The Nashinators? Nash Rules?

The Heir with no spare

Maybe it's the gloomy, rainy weather making me reflective. Who knows? Anyway, this morning I started thinking about the stuff that pisses me off. And what has pissed me off for 8 and a half years is being told by everyone from family to perfect strangers is that I need to have another child. Excuse me? Isn't this my body and my life?

In a nutshell: I have one son, who is 8 and a half. He is the light of our lives. He is handsome, smart, funny, and an all-around awesome kid. His teacher said he was the most mature kid in his class.

Addison was born in June 1999. Around the time where I might have started thinking about having more kids, our country was attacked. I knew Sept. 11 would change my life forever, and it did. It might sound like a big excuse, but it's my life and my blog, so there.

Within hours of the Twin Towers falling, I knew that my husband would be going to war. He's in the special operations of the Army-first to deploy. And he did-Oct. 12, 2001. It was a very scary time for me, especially one week later, Oct. 19, when I saw his unit parachuting into an airfield in Afghanistan. I didn't know it at the time, but he was part of that. I didn't know where he was, what he was doing or when he would be home. We had no communication with him for over a month.

Luckily, he came home in early December. But that wasn't the end of it. He has deployed five more times in support of OEF and OIF since then. None of the deployments have been easy, but he has returned to us after each deployment, which is a blessing.

That said, there was never a good time to have another child. I made the conscious decision that I did not want to have more kids. I did not want to give birth without him there. I did not want to be pregnant without him there. I give major props to the woman who do-they are heroes also.

I haven't had that yearning to have more kids. I am perfectly happy with the child I have. At this point, I'm 33 years old and have no desire to have another child. We're able to pick up and go whenever we feel like it. Bored? Let's go to Wally World-get in the truck and let's go. A beautiful sunny morning in the summer? Jump on the boat, let's go fishing. At this point, another kid would cramp our style. Yeah, that sounds harsh, but we've gotten used to our life like this. I enjoy it immensely.

So, no, it's not too bad that I only have one child. No, I don't need to have more just because someone else thinks I should. If someone thought I should shave off all my hair just because I should, would I do that? No, no and hell no. I can think for myself, plan my life as much as God lets me and make my own decisions.

Until you live my life, walk a mile in my shoes, and think my thoughts, keep your opinions to yourself.

Did I mention I'm very stubborn?

Introspection sucks

Occasionally, I feel myself falling into a deep introspection. It's usually some sort of identity crisis. Who am I? What do I want out of life? These questions usually go unanswered until something new triggers my attention. I am in one of these modes.
I used to chalk it up to being Gemini. Ok, I want to be like a 50s housewife and wear pearls and heels to vaccum, but I also want to wear Margaritaville T-shirts and flip flops. I don't want to work, but I also want to be a world-famous, household name author. It's like for every thought and idea I have, my brain retaliates and sends me back the complete opposite just to screw with me.
What I think I'm afraid of is being all of these things. I have a fear of success. I'm afraid of losing - death, separation, moving, etc. (Man, a psychologist could have a heyday with my melon). I'm so afraid of failure that I never start or approach anything. I don't know why.
I've gone through a lot of loss in my life, and it may sound stupid to some, but to me, the loss of my dog Bessie affected me profoundly, even to this day.
Bessie was our first dog. We got her the day after we moved into our first home on Fort Benning. She was a two-month old black Lab mix. She was smart from the get-go. One morning Adam left for work, and by the time he came home, I had trained Bessie in all things necessary for a dog to know, through the use of mini marshmallows. Bessie was special. She was our daughter.
The thought of Bessie dying was not something I ever thought about. Maybe I was protecting myself. The day I took her to the vet and was told she had cancer was one of the most horrific of my life. Making the decision whether to go into the "death room" as I call it was excruciating. But I went. I was able to tell her what a wonderful dog she was and how we loved her (Adam was in Iraq at the time, luckily my BFF Ely was in town visiting-I would not have made it through this without her) and how we would be looking forward to seeing her again in heaven, and she better be right there when we passed through those gates.
I held her as the veterinarian (the canine Jack Kevorkian) gave her the shot. I stroked her head and then realized she was gone. I started sobbing uncontrollably (as I'm about to do now and I would but the landscapers are right outside the window and might wonder why the white girl is crying) and Ely grabbed me and we left fast as lightning. Bessie was gone, but her spirit lives on. We have her ashes in a wooden box that Addison and I painted and put a wooden cutout of a black dog on with her name and a little angel next to it. We have many 8x10 pictures of her around the house. We are still blessed with her son, Brewster, who will be hitting 11 years old on July 13. We have Baby, the 3-year-old, 12-pounds of trouble Silky Terrier.
Okay, I know I did not start off this entry talking about Bessie, but my writing style is just that-I start on one topic and end up writing about something totally different.
No matter. It felt good to talk about Bessie. I am still haunted by that day. Lord knows I've cried a million tears for her. I know she wouldn't want me to be sad, but I am. I miss her. I miss her snuggling up to me when I'm upset (right now she would be sitting right next to me, looking at me with her big liquid brown eyes compassionately).
Okay, okay, enough, I know.
I miss you Bessie.

Pain in the ...

Stomach. I have a pain in my stomach. Ok, technically my right side. It started last week with severe cramping, diarrhea and vomitting. The diarrhea and vomit went away, but the pain did not. After several calls to my mom (a registered nurse) complaining, she told me to just go to the ER because it sounded like my gallbladder. Apparently gallstones run rampant in my family.

Five hours later, the good news is I don't have gallstones. But the pain was still there. The ER doc was a cool chick who basically told me to follow up with my doctor who would be able to do all sorts of tests to find out if it is ulcerative colitis, irritable bowel syndrome, etc. Someone said it could be an ulcer. I wouldn't doubt it. I worry endlessly; I even have anxiety-riddled dreams, that I am back in school and can't remember my locker combination. Or that I am constantly forgetting something.

A favorite author of mine, Jen Lancaster, talked about a book called Eat, Pray, Love on her blog so I bought it. It's about a woman's journey to find out who she is by traveling to three different countries. I have delved wholeheartedly into the book and am loving it so far. When I finish it, I will give a better summation and what I learned from it. In the meantime, I was told to wait a couple days for a phone call so I can set up an appointment to see my doctor. Good thing I'm not dying.

Don't Tease UA

I love you Under Armour, but I'm kind of mad at you right now. You made a huge deal about these awesome shoes during the worst Super Bowl ever, Adam goes online to find out how much they cost and where to get them and then - BLAM- they aren't available until May 3!

Why? Why tease us like this? I had already told Adam I could run forever in these shoes as a way to convince him to buy them for me. I guess I'll have a few more months to train up so I can run more than a 1/4 mile and prove why I need these shoes.

I'm disappointed, UA. I have loved you in the past and I still love you, just not as much. Not nice.

I heart Adam

When I got up this morning, I happened to glance at the doorknob where I hang my purse every day. My usual Dooney and Bourke wasn't hanging there, but this awesome D&B. Mine is just like this, but pink, because, well, I'm a pink girl and Adam knows me better than I know myself. I had been admiring this purse yesterday at the PX, thinking how awesome it was because I love everything associated with the beach.
My husband is awesome. The best in the world. I love you, Adam, A&F.
Happy Valentine's Day to you all.
Love,
Erin

Germ Factories (aka kids)

I've said it before, and I'll say it again - kids are germ factories. There's proof, too, if you've seen the commercial where the kid comes home from school and he's full of germs, touches the phone and spreads his cooties straight to the phone so he can kindly share them with his family.

I have been subbing at Addison's school since September and am caught in a vicious cycle. I will sub for a day, and within a day or two, I am sick. It varies what kind of sick I am.

On Monday I was an aide in kindergarten. At 3 a.m. I woke up with vicious stomach cramps which became diarrhea within a half hour. I lay awake after that, whimpering and intermittenly crying because the pain was so bad. At 5 a.m. I blew chunks. I also had some more of the runs during this time. Oh yeah, and I was freezing and had to convince myself to get out of bed to get another blanket.

I had already said I would sub on Tuesday and couldn't back out, because there was something going on where all the teachers were going to and they were already five subs short. Long story short, I dragged my butt in there and within 15 minutes was back home. Hey, at least I showed up, but knew there was no way I could teach fifth graders all day when I was convinced I was on death's doorstep.

This happens all the time. I sub for one day, then am sick for several. One time I was sick for two weeks. I swear, if it's in the air, I get it. I have been exercising and eating right, so maybe I just have a really crappy immune system. Guess it's time to invest in some Airborne.

Sign Me Up!

Seems like the cool thing to do these days is go to rehab. Britney, Lindsay and every other Hollywood-type seems to be going to rehab. Even Amy Winehouse, who I was convinced, after listening to her song, Rehab, would never be caught dead in rehab. For her, though, it really was a case of life and death. Bitch be crazy coked up 24/7.
Now it seems like everyone is doing the whole rehab thing. Eva Mendes (from the movie Hitch, which I have only seen half of) checked into rehab for "personal issues." Kirsten Dunst (Fang-teeth) checked into the same rehab. Even the scuzzy guy on Grey's Anatomy checked into rehab, although for "sleep disorder problems" or something stupid like that and stayed two days. Never heard of that, but whatever, I don't care.
My favorite excuse for hospitalization is "exhaustion." Um, yeah, because you know what? Us regular people never get exhausted. Our military men and women love to work 'round the clock in hostile lands and try to stay alive. The families left at home to manage life singlehandedly never get tired of doing it all. Life's a piece of cake, apparently, unless you're famous.
Here's my advice to you famous people - Shut the hell up. No one cares. Take care of your personal issues and realize that 99% of the general public works harder than you and you have no reason to be exhausted. Try walking in the shoes of someone else and quit yer whining.

Is it wrong?

I was feeling a headache coming on when going into the PX from lack of caffeine, so after my shopping was done, I buzzed into Starbucks. While I was in line (most of the people who work there have been "touched by an angel") I started a raging debate in my head with myself.

"Should I give a fake name if asked? Nah, just give them your name. But then I'll have to spell it because this lady looks like she's never heard the name Erin and she'll end up spelling it Aaron and that will just piss me off."

I had a lot of time to think. "What name did I always want? I don't think I ever wanted a different name. Maybe Paige. But I did want to name my future girl Delaney when I was about 8, but that doesn't count."

I ordered my grande mocha light frappuccino and was asked my name.

I didn't hesitate.

"Britney," I told her, without missing a beat and not cracking a smile a bit.

"Brittany" is how she wrote it and I'm fine with that, because obviously, it's not my real name so I couldn't care less.

So the question is, is it wrong to fuck with the Starbucks "baristas" because I can, even when I'm by myself? Sure, it's more fun when Adam or Addison is with me and we do the famous couples, but when you're by yourself, is it just plain wrong? And if it is, why is it so friggin' fun? Maybe it's time for a new hobby.

U R Dead 2 Me TB

Hey Tom Brady-

You have made my husband a happy man. Well, sort of. Because this season he made the difficult decision to switch teams. No, not like that. He finally gave up on the Jets to be a NE Pats fan. Wow, smart move, and yes, I accused him of jumping on the bandwagon, but for a born and bred New England boy (we have both lived in two New England states) I let it slide.

Until Sunday night. What a pitiful performance. I wanted to see history made (like my '04 Sox), along with many others, including non-NE fans. Maybe you should dump that horse-faced, man-looking chick you call a girlfriend. Look what happened to Romo and his man-looking, butt-chinned gf. It's called karma Tom, and it happened to you.

Yeah, I bet you're pissed just like all of NE fans who are still in shock. Luckily, I have a very understanding, tough husband who let me take my frustations out on him. Sorry, Adam, for the scratches and gouges taken out of your skin.

Tom, you are dead to me, at least until September. You need to work your way back into my good graces. You need to prove you're more than just a pretty, pretty face. By God, you're pretty, but that's no longer enough for me. I need you to come through for me. That means the big game. 18-1 is good, but we could have been great.

I'm done bitching and I have one thing to say - Bring on the NASCAR. And Jr., if you disappoint me, I'm going to have to start idolizing Papelbon, and my jig skills are not up to par.

Scattergories

Found this on Jenny from the Block's blog and decided to give it a whirl, because frankly, I've been feeling pretty stupid lately so I'll give the OLD gray matter some exercise.



SCATTERGORIES
It's harder than it looks! Use the 1st letter of your name to answer each of the following... they have to be real places, names, things...nothing made up! Try to use different answers if the person in front of you had the same 1st initial. You CAN'T use your name for the boy/girl name question.

1. What is your name ~ Erin
2. 4 Letter Word ~ ears
3. Vehicle ~ Edsel
4. Boy Name ~ Eric
5. Girl Name ~ Erica
6. Occupation ~ electrician
7. What you wear ~ earrings
8. Celebrity ~ Erykah Badu
9. Food ~ eggs
10. Something found in a bathroom ~ ear wax remover
11. Reason for Being Late ~ Eating breakfast
12. Character ~Eeyore
13. Something you Shout ~ EWWWWW!
14. Animal ~ elephant
15. Body part ~ elbow
16. Word to describe you ~ erotic
    

Okay, it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. I actually came up with an answer for each one so I'm pretty proud of myself. 'Nuf work for now, the old brain needs a rest.