it's nice to finally meet myself.

I am sad for you, dear reader(s?), when my head is full of serious things. Because this blog is my nerdy little pensieve, like in harry potter. Where the only way to get my brain to shut up is by writing it down. To give my thoughts somewhere to breathe and live outside my head. So that's what today will be.

I feel like my life has been flipped upside-down and then pummeled so hard that it has become unrecognizable. Which makes it sound, of course, far more dramatic than it appears. But to me it is that dramatic. Something has happened inside me. I've finally noticed the little mist of melancholy that has settled over my heart over the last few months. Don't get me wrong. My family is wonderful. Dave is such an amazing father to our Reese. And Reese, well, she pretty much is the greatest thing on the face of the earth.

My use of melancholy is not some sneaky way of saying depression. Because it is not that. It just seems like discontent has been slowly creeping into my life. And I have been staring it in the face everyday, but everyday I saw this stranger and wrongfully named her Tiredness, Stress, or Distraction. She never corrected me. She wanted me to figure it out on my own that her name is Discontent, and her friend Change is on her way over.

I'm glad she came, but her stay is almost over. She made me think about every decision in my life. She asked a lot of hard questions.

Which is why I got rid of my smartphone. I read a few articles waxing poetic about the beauty of a simpler smartphone-free life. Those appealed to me, but when it came down to it, not having a smartphone is inconvenient. Then I read a couple articles on how having a smartphone makes you a sucky parent. Hmm. I get where they are coming from, but I also think that smartphones allow us to be out of the office (aka with our family) more overall, so I am not completely buying that. What really did it for me was watching the news, when the iPhone 5 came out. People were so absorbed in what they were doing once the doors opened (uh, sir, you're still standing in line)that the news anchor couldn't even get anyone to speak to her. The first customer to purchase one came sprinting out (wanting to be first, of course) and when he was interviewed he said something like, "omgitssoamazingitsfasterandsleekerandiloveit,ohyeahandihaven'tactuallylookedatityet." That was the rice that tipped the scale for me. Who are we? So I told a flabbergasted Dave that night in bed that we needed to dig out my ole dino phone and go to the verizon store. Because Discontent reminded me that I don't need that in my life. She reminded me that I love to get lost. And sometimes I just want to be completely alone. So I opened the door to Change, just a crack (Bonus: cheaper phone bill!).

I've been a Business major for quite a while now. Preceding that, I have been History, Poli Sci, Art (? I am an idiot), and Business Multimedia. Business is practical. Highly employable. Dave just got his degree in Anthropology, which is a one-way ticket to grad school. At a bachelor's level, there are not many people interested in hiring anthropologists. But it's okay. This is what he wants. He loves learning. He loves anthropology. Which means that I need a more employable degree for us to always fall back on.

Wait. What? Why has that been my mindset for so long? I believe in a God that loves me. I also believe that He wants me to be truly happy. While my family is a huge part of that, I think that for me to honestly find bliss is to use my talents and have accomplishments and satisfaction outside the home too. So, while I have complete faith that the Lord will bless Dave for  pursuing an education in something that he loves, I am now realizing that those rules apply to me too. How liberating! I have been in a tumultuous on-again-off-again relationship with school. Everyone makes jokes about how I will never get my degree. Maybe it's because I had been so focused on what will get me a job that I won't completely despise. Which is like inviting Discontent to move in with you.

It's like I forgot that everything in my life was a choice, and it took discontent to remind me that happiness is not one-size-fits-all. I think this is the beginning of something beautiful.

"don't be fat," said the rhino to the cat

Basically, this post is going to tell you how to not be fat. See, the problem here is that I may not be the best authority on the subject. Which makes me the rhino. And you the cat. Is that gonna stop me? Uh, has lack of expertise ever stopped me before? (or anyone else on the internet?)

So, before I gross you out let me give you some perspective.

This right here is pretty much my body status quo from age 13 up until the time I got pregnant. Not tiny, not huge. Just spastic and normal sauce. Also I suck at bowling. Which is weird, because I feel like my technique is solid.

So then I got pregnant. And I got fat, but like pregnant-person fat. It doesn't count as normal fat unless you can't tell you're pregnant. 

So, that was like 10 days before the longest hospital stay of my life (aka the beautiful and life-changing birth of my child). I was....ready. I was definitely rounder in places I hadn't been before (look at my arrrms), but I'm still chalking this all up to being pregnant.

And then here we are like a week and a half after I had her. Which, as coincidence would have it, was my 11th birthday.

And then this happened.

Yeah yeah, I know most of those are the same day. But I don't really have cause to take pictures of myself all the time, especially when my kid is hanging around being so photogenic. Gahhhhh. It's awful, isn't it? I was having so much freaking fun on that tire swing. Probably because I had more momentum than I had EVER HAD IN MY LIFE. Omgosh, internet. I am about to be so honest with you that I might throw up. I was sitting at about 160-165 in these pictures. Which isn't that much, unless you're only FIVE FOOT ONE. Anyway, on the day I had Reese I was about 167. Soooo. The reason most of these pictures are the same day is because I was travelling for work and we had nothing on our schedule for a day, so we went a-sight-seeing. And holycrapbatman, these pictures were a shock to me when I saw them. I think I am like the opposite of an anorexic person, where when I look in the mirror I see normal kaitlin, but the rest of the world sees the "ilovefood" kaitlin. 

When I got back from my work trip, I realized that those people I met and worked with don't know that I am actually normal-sized and what they are seeing here is like a temporary  "Please pardon our dust while we remodel" type situation. They think I am the rhino. And why would they think anything otherwise? It's not like I was really doing anything about it. Once I had Reese, I thought it would all melt away, especially since I was nursing, and I would be back to status quo kaitlin right quick. NOT. I got fatter. Which I did not realize. Until these rude pictures slapped me in the face.

So I got really motivated. I went running everyday for like two weeks straight. And then I got busy. In like one day I ruined a newly-forming habit. So then I really got strict with my yoga routine. For a while. Needless to say, working out two hours a day is just not a luxury I can afford.

And then I accidentally lost weight. Dave is such a good budget-teer, and I am more of a "it will all work out" type. Which is NOT a useful attitude towards money. Anyway, he sat me down one month and said, "We need to tighten up our finances. We have x amount of debt that I want to eradicate as quickly as possible, so we need to get back to budgeting and sticking to our budget." And I was like, "cool." So we did. He would just give me a a budget every week with no instructions on what to spend it on, but it was for any/all non-bill expenses. Gas, grocery, clothes, Tiger Beat magazines. So when I was at the grocery store, if I only had $40 that day to spend, you can bet I was not going to be sucked in by the guiles of a $4 package of oreos. Instead of being lazy and just getting whatever was quick, I ended up buying things that were cheap and would go far. Like chicken, rice, potatoes. So now, not only are we never eating out, but our food takes actual human time to make. So it's basically impossible to eat solely out of boredom, because you have to spend 30 minutes making it first. 

People have been asking me a lot lately what I have been doing to lose weight, and I mostly just grunt in response. Because it's not an exciting story. I have gone on workout binge after workout binge since forever and not really seen weight loss results. It's all about what I eat, apparently. We are also not psychotic health nuts. We don't count calories or only make the "skinny" versions of recipes. I even still drink soda (gasp).We just make food, eat at meal times, and try not to be sitting all day. We have both accidentally lost about 30 lbs each. Which is cool, because now that I don't wake up with achy shoulders, I actually want to rock the house with my mad yoga skills. And I look less like I will eat your family. 

therapy on the cheap

I am gonna start by shocking your pants off. People. I hate spending money. Even if I HAD money to spend, I don't think I'd be able to spend it. I have "genetic spending paralysis". Well, let me rephrase. I am genetically programmed to throw up on things that aren't on clearance. "On Sale" is just a fancy term for "not clearance". I don't think Dave has any idea how lucky he is that I have this defect.

But sometimes, life gets to me. I like to have direction and a plan, even if it is vague. Right now I don't. We thought the next step in our lives was this PERFECT grad school. When we visited to check it out (a billion years ago), the professor was oozing with how much he loved Dave and thought he would be a perfect fit. We (read: I) felt so good about this! The town seemed perfect, the program was spot on. Then he got denied. Which is not unthinkable. Grad programs are so competitive, and it's silly to think that the first (and only, so far) one that he applied to would welcome him with open arms. But I was so sure. Anyway, now I feel a little lost. I feel like our future is like The Shining, where you keep waiting for it to make sense and it never does. And then you google it, and find out that no one on the planet can make sense of it either.


So I went to the dolla store. And I spent with reckless abandon. My life feels so out of control right now, it was nice for me to be so in control. I could do anything I wanted. I ran around with glee throwing things in my cart. I bought like 3 things of nail polish. Even though I already have 17. Impractical? Yes. But I am being reckless! And I bought ammonia! And crepe paper! And cheetos! I didn't even keep track of how many things I was throwing in. I am like the wind!

It was nice. It was also the point where I realized that in The Shining, I am Jack Nicholson. I sit here and write stuff and snap at people. I miiiight be losing it. It's a good thing we don't have a hedge maze nearby.
 Because the resemblance is uncanny.

Electing Mayor McFartface

I feel like no one can agree on politics. The only thing we can all agree on is that politics suck. There's nothing I like more than spending my brain power on trying to figure out who is being less misleading. My senior class voted me "Most Likely to Run for Political Office". That might have had something to do with how I was a bossy student body officer (Notice that I wasn't voted most likely to BE a politician, just that I would run). At the time, I was like, "Five thousand star-eyed babies! Let's go shopping for pant suits, constituents!" And now all I want to do is make a million dollars by writing this blog that has no theme or direction. That plan is working out well.

In order to make my million dollars, I have to write words. So this is what I think about a political thing:

I just don't understand how a corporation can be considered a person, legally. So, some of it makes sense. The right to sue or be sued the same as a person, that makes sense. It means that a corporation is a single entity, which makes a lot of sense in terms of taxation and regulation. It also makes sense that because a corporation is not made up solely of Joe CEO, but a collection of individuals, those individuals should not be denied their rights when acting together. Cool. Good on you, Supreme Court. And there are some things that are denied corporations, but that we as individuals have the right to. Like, you can ask me in court all day long whether or not I did, in fact, do my hair like Legolas all during 8th grade. And I could reply, "I decline to answer pursuant to my fifth amendment rights," (I only know that phrase because I am obsessed with Suits). Corporations can't do that. They HAVE to answer. Embarrassing or not (not that doing your hair like Legolas is embarrassing. Braids are IN right now). 

My issue here is that corporations can be involved in campaigns. I feel like this is something that doesn't make sense. If I work for one of those cool companies with the slides and nerf gun fights, there is someone there above me who can decide to give money to Mayor McFartface. In fact, they don't even have to tell me, or anyone else, that they contributed to the reign of McFartface. There is no board approval necessary. How does this make sense? So one time, in the middle of a heated nerf gun fight, it occurred to me that this seems a little unfair. The only reason my company can even do that is because me and my coworkers exist, and they are considered a person in order to protect us. If Mayor McFartface is championing a plan to slaughter all the beautiful people, OBVIOUSLY I don't want to support him. Shouldn't it make sense that if the company can only give because of me, shouldn't I be involved in the decision-making process? 

Hmmm. But democratically choosing whom to give money to kind of sounds like a sucky and time consuming job. So maybe we just tell corporations that they can't contribute anymore. Makes sense to me.

the plight of the chronically single

Yes. I am aware that I am not single. That doesn't mean I don't know what I'm talking about. Because that would be like telling a doctor he doesn't know how it feels to be poor, but all you're seeing is his career 30 years in. You've missed the part where he and wife had plastic lawn furniture in their apartment all 10 years of $200,000 a year med school. So just because I'm not experiencing it currently doesn't mean I don't know what it's like. (PS, I am not equating a relationship to riches. Besides, even if I were, I have already discussed how being poor is Theeee Defecation (inner parenthesis to tell you that I don't like to swear. Also, to point out the absurdity of that saying)).

I have also said some other stuff about how I like being married. But let me give it to you straight, single girls.

 People disapprove of whatever you do. And they will mention it to you. Every time I leave my house (approx every 4 days) I inevitably bump into a stranger who wants to talk about my baby. They ask me how old she is, and then they ask her name. When I say "Reese" they say, "Oh, Reese? Is that right? Reese, you said? Hmm. Never heard that one before. Reese." I don't know what is wrong with this country (world?), that we think we are allowed to pass judgement on complete strangers. Maybe I named my daughter Reese because that was my mother's dying wish. Maybe I did it because a unicorn came to me in a dream telling me what her name should be. You don't know, stranger! And just because it isn't what you would do doesn't mean it's wrong.  So, if judgy people are steering the conversation in the direction of why-are-you-single-what-is-wrong-with-you, you've got to be prepared. I think I would go for shock value here. Instead of replying the truthful, "I just haven't met a person I really connect with" You should say something like, "My last boyfriend died tragically when his Alzheimer's treatment facility was attacked by genetically enhanced super sharks. I am just having a hard time moving on." If it is, in fact, someone you know, who thinks "something is wrong with you" because you are single, you can reply with a much more acidic, "I don't know, Aunt Mable, why are you wearing so much makeup? What are you hiding?" This is NOT a recommended method. I just don't think people realize how hurtful they are being when they imply that the only reason one might be single is because of a personal defect. 

I also know that we judge ourselves most harshly. We look at freaks around us who are in relationships, and sometimes we wonder if there really truly is something wrong with us. I promise, there's not. Our facebook feeds are flooded with people being cheesy and vomitous about their "true love." Those people might be trying to convince themselves that their relationship is perfect...Because we all know we try to look better/cooler/more exciting on facebook. When someone is truly, heartachingly happy, they are busy being happy, not updating their facebook to try and make them look happy.

In terms of  the lonely Saturday Night, just do whatever makes you happy, instead of focusing on what you don't have. Are all of your girlfriends out with their guys? Come to my house. I will watch a movie with you, and then we will all go to bed at nine. If movies aren't your thing we can go find some pallets by some dumpsters and make a coffee table. Whatevs. Your choice. All I am saying here is that you have options. Have fun. Be selfish, because I promise you that once you do find that guy, your selfish times are over. 

I guess what I really want to say to the single girls is that you need to stop comparing yourself, because there's always someone you will perceive as having it all. Whether they do or not, is usually a different story. And I'm not just talking about relationships here. All I know is that I never want Reese to grow up and feel like she is lesser than someone else, just because she doesn't have a boyfriend. 

So basically, life sucks in that, just as we think we have things figured out, it tells us that everyone else mastered that 27 years ago and now we are supposed to be doing something else. I say screw it. People are going to judge you no matter what. So do what makes you happy. If it's making coffee tables with me, so be it.

buffets: a guide for the novice

We've all been there. There are 100 steaming serving dishes in front of you. This ain't no small potatoes five-option wedding buffet. This is a REAL buffet. Whether you are in Vegas or at your local Chuck-a-Rama, you need a strategy.

(I know this isn't funny, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't laughing uproariously right now)

Here's a list of don'ts:
1. Don't scoop out more than 1-2 bites of anything you might be interested in. My experience tells me only about 20% of the edible materials that look good to a hungry stomach actually taste like the food they are meant to resemble.
2. Don't you dare be worried about that growing stack of 1500 plates on your table. Is your "server" (aka drink refiller) judging you? Probably, but I doubt you are the most grotesque thing they've seen that day. I bet you are in the "forgettably shameful" category.
3. Don't freak out about leaving a tip. You paid $15.00 (not including the drink) for the opportunity to get out of your seat 17 times and get your own slop. Last time Dave and I went, we opted to give a tip, but only because the teenage boy was really nice and talked to a little girl in our section about Justin Bieber (that 7-year old was right on. The biebs is totes hot) for like 10 minutes. Oh yeah, and because our tiny DNA-thief  might have thrown 800 grains of rice on the ground. But my memory of that is a little foggy.
4. Don't get your food from the right side of the bowl. Most people are right-handed. You see where I'm going with this?
5. Don't sit too closely to other people. Especially if your baby is as cute as mine. I came here to shove my face full of cubed jello, people. Not discuss whether or not you think my minor has enough fat/too much fat on her thighs.
6. Don't use the chocolate fountain. Seriously. This is all I can think of whenever I see a chocolate fountain:

 And it makes me want to vomit.

But this world isn't all about don'ts. So here are some do-s. (HOW DO I PLURALIZE THAT WITHOUT SPEAKING SPANISH?!):

1. Do visit during busy times. Because then you have a slightly better chance of actually consuming fare that was prepared this century (to be fair, last century was only 12 years ago).
2.Do learn an alternate language with your buffy (buffet+buddy=buffy). Something a little more obscure, like Danish. That way you can immediately react to the absurdity around you and discuss accordingly. BONUS: You can act like you don't understand the people that are trying to interrupt your jello-fest (it just tastes better when it's cubed!).


I feel like I could write a whole book on this. And maybe I should. Hmmmm. Hashtag mylifecalling??

the secret to actually liking the person you're married to

Prepare to be impressed. I am in such a good mood, because I finally got off my butt and spent the 30 seconds it took to set up my wireless router. So guess where I'm blogging from, minions? MY COUCH. I have been wondering for many moons how I could bother everyone with my opinions from a horizontal position. Who knew the solution was so simple?! Anyway, you came here for non-divorce advice, so let's get to it.

I mostly love my husband. I say mostly because there is no perfect relationship. Pretty much because men are hairy and smell AWFUL sometimes. Eliminate the hair and horrible smells and you have a pretty good shot at a perfect relationship (kinda makes me wonder if lesbians thought of this a long time ago, and they are just waiting for everyone else to figure it out). WAIT. There's one more thing. Something lesbians haven't thought of. The secret to a happy marriage is simple.

MOVE AWAY FROM YOUR GOSH DARN PARENTS. 

Seriously. Now I will support my argument.

Your parents have stuff. And lots of it. You may or may not have stuff, but regardless of your stuff amounts, you are used to taking of your parents' stuff freely. Even when you were at college and out of the house, you stole cans of food and they would feel bad for you and buy you dinner once in a while. But now you are MARRIED. Guess how much I care if you are married and still in school? NONE. The dynamic has changed now. Instead of your parents being the captains of your life football team, now you and your husband are (I am not going to mess with worrying about saying husbandSLASHwife. nonsense. I seriously doubt any men read my blog. My own marital co-captain does not). Your parents have been demoted to the cheer squad. So they are still at the game, they just don't have any effect on the outcome, and they sure as heck don't get to call any plays. They are there to encourage you and do backflips in miniskirts. Which is why you should move away from them. So that you HAVE to captain your own team. It's easy to defer to the leaders you've always had, but guess who is going to hate that? Your co-captain. 

I like visiting my parents. They have way nicer mattresses. My mom's conditioner smells like a minty jungle. They have a pantry perpetually full of fruit snacks. So I could see it being a temptation to ignore my life and live in theirs if I lived close to them. Because my life is full of mediocre conditioner, and spending my grocery money on actual foods, not snack foods. Which sometimes sucks. So sometimes I just want to sleep in their guest room and eat their food and complain about everything in my life to them...oh, hold on a sec. That sounds exactly like being a teenager. 

Which means you would be regressing.

It's a hard day when you realize that your parents have shifted gears from providing for you to simply sharing their stuff with you, out of generosity. But it has come, and you need to deal with it. 

The first year of marriage is not easy. Just look at Kim Kardashian and the guy we have already forgotten about! Seriously, if Dave buttered his bread differently than me,  I would burst into a million tears wondering how on earth  I could be meant for him if we couldn't agree on something as simple as buttering bread. But we are marriage superheroes, and instead of him leaving me when he realized I was bat crazy and (non-pregnantly) sobbed over butter, we worked stuff out. I am going to surprise you here with what I attribute our success to. It's because we LIVED FAR AWAY FROM OUR PARENTS. Don't pass out. 

When we would fight about anything/everything, it is sooo tempting to try and find someone in this world that will side with you. Guess who is good at siding with you? The people that created you. If we had lived closer to family I know know know that on multiple occasions we would've run off and spent the night separately. Buuut we couldn't. Which sucked at the time. Ugh. When we were fighting the last thing I wanted to do was watch him read in bed. How pompous of him. And HOLY CRAP, could he brush his teeth any more annoyingly?! But sooner or later the wizard of love would work his magic. I know there's that stupid saying that tells you to never go to bed angry. I would like to advocate the opposite. GO TO BED STEAMING MAD! Because when you are steaming mad, if you try to talk it out you're just going to get steaming madder, and you're going to want to throw your husband into the rushing herd a la lion king. So we like to go to bed angry. Inevitably, at some point in the night, the wizard makes us snuggle. Because my subconscious doesn't know when or when not to gift Dave with my touch. We'd wake up in the morning, steam dissipated, and be able to talk like human beings. Mostly. Which would be robbed of us if we woke up in separate beds.

So, imagine a scene where your husband is trying to decide if he should make his billion dollars by becoming a doctor, or being the alive version of Steve Jobs. It's important, right? And it affects you? So the two of you sit down and discuss that medicine is the way to go. Then he goes to his mom's house down the street, and comes waltzing home five hours later (with his belly full of the cabbage casserole that no one can make quite like his mom) and tells you he changed his mind. I hope I am not the only sociopath that would want to punch the cabbage out of my husband's gut. When you live close to your parents, it might help YOU keep your relationship strong, but you better believe that it's going to build up resentment towards your parents by your spouse. I don't care if you think you're the exception. YOU'RE NOT.  Parents are amazing at telling us how to live our lives, and our spouses don't have the love and admiration for our parents that we do. Making decisions with your parents is bad news bears for a marriage. See? This goes back to knowing whether people belong on the sidelines or on the field in your life. 

Basically, I like parents. Have nothing against them. But the time when you're first married is an important time for you to build the foundation relationship for the rest of your lives. So get away from your parents and focus on your husband. It will be harder, but it will also help you stay away from divorceville.

Criticisms and opposing arguments are welcome. But prepare to be crushed with my Spock-ly logic.