snapshot sunday

Here are some photos from my phone that I took this week.  Enjoy!

the waffle cone

I had a great weekend, so I should have known that the other shoe would soon drop.  Yesterday I went to a thirty-one gifts party with Brooke (my bestie), and I didn't shed one tear or even give much thought to 1-the pregnant girl that was there, 2-the lady who told our hostess that her daughter is 4 months pregnant and she's exxcited to be a grandma (and she really likes her daughter's boyfriend, btw), or 3-the numerous little ones that were at the party.  In church this morning, a family that just had their 4th child sat in the row right in front of me, and again, no tears, no heaviness in my heart.  This was progress for me.  That being said, and remembering that I'm pumping some hormones now, it shouldn't be much of a surprise to this emotional eater that tears would be shed over food.  Food that my husband once again failed to deliver. 

Jamie and I went to a Wolves hockey game with my parents tonight.  We had a great day.  After the first intermission I spotted some lady with a delicious looking waffle cone with twisty ice cream in it.  I mentioned to Jamie (while he was horking down his pretzel with nacho cheese and a Pepsi)  that I'd like one of those during the next intermission.  Fast forward through 20 minutes of hockey.

Jamie and my dad are off to get me my twisty waffle cone during the 2nd intermission.  Jamie returns with a flipping shot glass full of plain vanilla for me.  WTF?!  I'm told they were out of waffle cones.  This is what he felt was an acceptable replacement?  Might I mention that my dad returned with a cup of chocolate ice cream, with chocolate syrup, and some kind of delicious candy on it!  What did I do to deserve such a subpar frosty treat?

I took one tiny bite and returned it to Jamie.  I let it be known that this was not what I asked for.  This was not what I wanted.  This was not ok and would not be consumed by me.  I got looks from my mom who mouthed at me to just eat it.  My dad sat at the far end, and I swear I saw him smiling and casting sideways glances at me as he ate his death by chocolate sundae.  I refused to eat the ice cream. 

Here's the thing- I know that Jamie is not in control of what the Allstate Arena has at their concession stands.  I get it.  They ran out of waffle cones.  But there is a whole gray area between a twisty waffle cone and a dixie cup full of plain vanilla.  Jamie's birthday is coming up, and I plan on making him apple slices, which are quite the labor of love.  Imagine how he'd feel if at his party I pull out a few boxes of Twinkies.  There's a whole gray area of desserts between homemade apple slices and cellophane wrapped sponge cakes. 

So we had to have a talk about how this made me feel when we got home.  I proceeded to shot my stomach with more heparin; I have quite the rainbow of bruises going on my stomach; and I got my estrogen ready.  After my shots, the water works started.  I just wanted a twisty waffle cone.  I saw other people with them, and I wanted one.  But I guess it just wasn't in the cards for me tonight.  I want a baby.  I see other people with them, and I want one.  I hope I get dealt a different hand.

I am just so mad at myself.  Instead of thinking about what a nice day I had, I have to dwell on the one thing I didn't have.  I do the same exact thing when I think about babies.  Instead of thinking about all of the wonderful things I am blessed to have in my life, I focus on the one thing that is missing, my baby.  I torture myself.  I can recongize that I'm doing this, but yet I can't move past it. 

after all these years

So, last Saturday I was feeling very "wifey" and made Jamie pancakes and vegetarian sausage patties, presented with apple slices and milk- all served as breakfast in bed (after 9 o'clock).  There were no ulterior motives.  I did it because I wanted to.  I knew he'd be surprised and it'd make him happy. 

Fast forward one week, to yesterday.  I hear his alarm go off at 7:20 on a Saturday.  What the heck?  Yeah, we had an appointment with the Direct TV guy, but he was going to show up between 8-12.  Jamie creeps out of bed, gets dressed, and goes downstairs.  My heart did a little leap!  My kindness was going to be returned with... bakery doughnuts!  I just knew it.  You know how you just KNOW some things?  Well, I knew it.  So, I stayed in bed dozing in and out for about another hour.  I get dressed around 8:30, just in case the cable guy is already here, and march happily downstairs, ready to be *surprised* by my loving husband and some yummy bakery doughnuts. 

I say hi to Greta and Jamie (who's dusting for some reason) and sort of scan the kitchen for the white wax paper bag.  I'm not seeing it and my heartbeat quickens a bit.  When I ask why he was up so early, he said he had to clean downstairs for the cable guy.  Huh?  No doughnuts?  Was Jamie all of a sudden a bachelor trying to seduce his date with how clean his place is?  Who cares if the cable guy sees our dust?  Where are my doughnuts? 

After a few unkind words, I angrily made myself, and only myself, chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream!  They were good, but they tasted even better since Jamie didn't have any.  I made my point.  Or so I thought.

We have a christening this morning at 10 (which raises a whole different set of emotions in me), so we got to sleep in a bit later than usual for a Sunday.  Once again, as I get in the shower this time, I just know that when my shower's done our bed will be empty because Jamie learned a valuable lesson yesterday and I would have bakery doughnuts today.  When I turn the water off, I hear the tv on.  No, no, no, no, no.  It just can't be.  I was 100% sure Jamie wasn't going to fail me two days in a row.  Especially since I made my heart's desires so clear to him yesterday.  I cracked open the door, and he's laying in bed watching Fraggle Rock.  I, again, expressed my concern over where my breakfast was.  And he was all like "Aughhh, (slapping his forehead) I can't do anything right!" 

After all these years together, it's the small things in life that can make me happy.  Too bad when those small things don't happen (even after being clearly asked for), they can set me off, too.