I feel completely irritated.  How in the world do people further their educations without losing their minds?

Amaris pooped in the toilet.  It was the teeniest poop ever, and shortly afterwards she followed up with a bigger poop in her diaper (which disappointed everybody, really, but most of all her.  poor baby.) but progress is progress.  This is the first time poop has ever moved directly from her little butt to the toilet bowl.  I could have peed my pants, I was so excited.  But that would have set a terrible example for her during these trying times of potty training.

I have come to a realization.  I hate my kitchen.  It makes me sad to say that, but I really think that I do.  My kitchen is an unhappy place.  No windows, just fluorescent lighting.  No happy colors, just stainless steel countertops and sink, and drab blue tile walls.  The floors and cabinets are even worse.  Beige, off-white, industrial and BLAH.

I am not being overdramatic when I say it's beautiful here.  This morning I watched from my balcony the most amazing cloud formation reacting to the day's new sunlight.  And I was totally breath-taken.  Seriously.  I could barely manage to grab my camera and snap a few pictures of it.

I had no complaints.  Things were moving along well.  See-ta's cookies were baked, dinner was under way, Amaris was adequately stoked about Santa, I had my groceries, things were going well.

One word:  OVERWHELMED!

It's gray outside and it looks cold (I'm sure it's not ACTUALLY cold, but it certainly appears that way from inside the apartment).  I think I'm going to turn on my Christmas tree, do a little laundry, and then make chocolate chip cookies with Amaris.  We might also consider some gingerbread.

I have over 3 dozen tamales on my freezer.  And my neighbor has at least that many in hers.  They were a success, I do believe, despite the fact that we're both pretty darn white and had never attempted to make tamales before.  They taste great.  And they look pretty nice, too.

I'm heading to bed for now but later on after I've woken up, my friend and I are going to make our very first attempts at homemade tamales.  I cooked chuck roast all day long and it's hanging out in the fridge overnight.  I'm excited.  Mark will deface them with ketchup and I don't even care.  This'll be my first ever Christmas outside of California, which basically means that it'll be my first ever Christmas without access to tamales.  So I'm pretty stoked to carry on the tradition myself by making them here to enjoy.  I need to clear out some freezer space.

Mark requested a big block of leave for Christmas.  December 19-January 2.  His leave request was approved and all was fine.  Until today when they basically cancelled it without real warning.

Send your own ElfYourself eCards

Mark enjoyed his bento lunch.  And his coworkers were jealous.  He called me at around 12:30 to ask which candies I'd turned out this weekend and I made him deliver me a full report on his bento experience.

Determination.

I made my very first bento box this morning. Ashamed to say I didn't get pictures, but honestly, that's besides the point. The point is... I made a bento lunch. A grown-up bento lunch. With steak and rice and salad. And Mark didn't complain. In fact, he almost looked a little amused as I packed the rice into the bottom of the container. He gathered up everything and left for work with a smile.

Honestly, I think he loves me more when I get up with him in the morning. Today he had two breakfast sandwiches, juice, coffee, and his lunch packed with love.

Over the weekend, I'm pleased to say that I finally went to a 100Yen store, which was awesome (and was where I bought Mark his bento box and accessories!), went bowling, and then made Christmas candy with my neighbor while the husbands watched the kids. Mark had yesterday off so I was able to run errands again child-free. It was a really nice break and today I feel pretty good.

I'm sure my blogs are more interesting when I am bitter, but what the hell.

I made a bento box! Hooray!

Oh, and here is a family picture from Friday at the Christmas party. Amaris was not feeling compliant. But Mark kept his eyes open - score!

Today I am 22.

This past year has been hectic and chaotic and all sorts of crazy, to be quite honest. And when I sit down and try to remember where I was and what I was doing on my last birthday, I am totally stunned to realize that just one year ago, we were still living in Port Hueneme, no official orders in hand, no idea where we were heading or when we were heading there. I had my birthday dinner at Red Robin in Ventura and was so excited to order myself my very first legal Cosmopolitan, but not interested in getting smashed drunk by any means. It was a quiet birthday but I enjoyed it.

Last year at this time, I was not planning more children in our immediate future. I was still on birth control, as a matter of fact. Last year at this time, I figured we were going to go to San Angelo, but didn't know when. I thought it'd be cool to go to Japan, but that was the extent of my thoughts on Japan. I can remember saying to Mark at one point around a year ago that if he was planning to stay in the Marine Corps, he'd better ask for duty stations outside of California. "If you're going to make this your career and put all this time and effort into it, we may as well see the world a little and get some different experiences. We've both spent our whole lives in California. Boring."

These things feel so far away. When I was a kid, I know I sat around waiting for the next birthday and the year in between birthdays always seemed to absolutely DRAG by. This feels different, but the same. In some strange way. I feel like we've crammed SO much into this one year, but I also feel like it's been forever since we were happily settled in California.

Anyways, it's my birthday. It's no big deal. It is what it is. People don't get crazy excited about turning 22, I don't think. So I'm about normal on this one. No big plans, no fancy presents. Not this time. Just another year older. Happy birthday to me.

Everybody else gets half a day off after they've had duty for "recovery". Why is it that Mark never winds up getting what "everybody else" does?

I have not heard from Mark in 20 hours, now. He called a little after 8PM last night to check in and tell me that he missed me and my pork chops (more on that later). Then he never called again and he didn't come home around noon like most of the guys in his shop do when they've been on overnight duty.

Since we arrived here, Mark has had duty 3 times. First was the night before he had to go to the rifle range and that prevented him from getting his half-day off. Then was the Friday after Thanksgiving, and obviously he'd have already had the time off afterwards. And now last night. He said he might not get his half day this time either because they were "really busy", but I figured he'd still at least CALL in between and let me know some sort of an update. I've checked my phone all day long to no avail. He has not called, nor has he answered any of my 3 phone calls today. I'm getting annoyed. I just don't get why HE is always the overworked one. Anybody else would have taken their half day and left regardless of anything that needed to be done.

Long gone are the days of Port Hueneme duty. Duty there consisted of him having to carry around a rather annoying cell phone and check the building twice a day for a week, once every 2-3 months or so. Duty there was cake. Duty here, similarly to San Angelo, means that he has to stay at the barracks once a month, and gets to sleep a whole 4 hours, if he's lucky. It ticks me off that they obligate even the married Marines to this task, rather than just the Marines who are actually living in the barracks. I don't see them sending single Marines to keep an eye on the building we live in.

So I'm irritated.

Okay, back to the pork chops. Night before last I made pork chops for dinner that made Mark say, "OH MY GOD." Pork chops never get an "oh my God" in this house. We tend to find them boring and even a little tough and dry. Enter "Awesome Honey Pecan Pork Chops".

Ingredients:

• 4 3/4" thick boneless pork chops
• 1/2 cup all-purpose flour for coating
• salt and pepper to taste
• 2 tablespoons butter
• 1/4 cup honey
• 1/4 cup chopped pecans

Directions:

1. In a shallow dish, mix together flour, salt and pepper. Dredge pork cutlets in the flour mixture.
2. In a large skillet, melt butter over medium-high heat. Add chops, and brown both sides. Transfer to a warm plate.
3. Mix honey and pecans into the pan drippings. Heat through, stirring constantly. Pour sauce over cutlets.

Yes. You should try them. Seriously. I'll bet if I put them in a bento box, Mark would find Bento completely irresistible.

I have new purpose in life.

Bento.

I showed Mark this blog, extremely excited, and he said, "Cute." I said, "Don't you want me to pack you bento box lunches for work?" He laughed, and said, "No. I meant cute like for a kid. Not for me." So then I was kind of irritated and decided that I'd prove him wrong. Bento boxes can be for adults, too!

All day yesterday while Mark was on duty, I researched. I Googled till my fingers hurt. And yes, Bento lunches can be for adults. They are less fancy and cutesy, but they are still awesome. Apparently there is even this cool food ratio idea, bento lunches should be 3 parts starch, 2 parts produce and 1 part protein. I went on Amazon.com and grossly expanded my wish list. My most exciting find was this awesome Bento jar. I will make Mark bento lunches and he will love them, damnit. Watch and see.

When I first moved out, I moved into an apartment with hardwood floors and tiles. I bought a Swiffer. Everybody always says Swiffers are soooo amazing.

I hated my Swiffer. I used it because it was what I had. I didn't have a mop. But I was not a fan. We moved from that apartment to another apartment with lots of lineoleum. I continued to use the Swiffer, till one day I decided I'd had enough and traded it in for a real live grown up mop. I gave the Swiffer away.

Since our arrival in Okinawa I have not bought a mop. The only mops available readily are the cheapy junky ones from the base stores. I refuse to put myself through yet another one of those. So I've been using paper towels and 409 to spot clean the floors. I had a coupon for a Swiffer, so I thought I'd give it another try. I just put the thing together and attempted to clean the kitchen floor.

Swiffers still suck. I still can't stand them. I want to throw that piece of junk away. My kitchen floor still looks and feels like crap.

Thanks a lot.

Yesterday I had to wash B. This was not a happy time. Amaris screamed for about an hour solid after he "went into the bath" and begged me hysterically to get him out of the machine. By the time I wished I could take back putting him in there in the first place, it was too late, he was soaking wet and covered in laundry soap. I very seldom am able to wash him because of this reaction from her. Amaris' teddy bear is unmistakable. While I was pregnant with her, he stood out in a Babies R Us to me, and I just had to have him for her. He was plump and golden brown and soft and sweet. The perfect companion for any baby. My mom bought him without me mentioning it twice.

B and Amaris first met while she (at about 1 month old) was checking out her crib for the very first time. She didn't really notice him too much at first, she was more intrigued by all of the other sensory stuff in there with her - the bumper, the mobile... But he was there. And I'm sure he noticed her. For him, it was either love or panic at first sight. It was something.

I don't know when Amaris' utter infatuation with him began. I figure that at some point she started bringing him out of the crib with her in the morning and then at bedtime we'd return him to his "place". But at some point he became a daily necessity for her. She started out by calling him "Boo" - which was confusing to me because Boo is the cat. I thought she was in love with my Boo! And she was, but not as inseparably as she was with the bear. "Boo" evolved to "Beer" at some point. I had to sneak him away from her to "give him baths" and he started to look a little raggedy. This did not affect her love for him.

"Beer" has most recently changed to "B". Just B. I figure by now she knows him well enough that she can call him by a nickname. She's been dragging him around for over a year, nonstop. His hair has become nappy, his bow is not shiny anymore and it never sits straight. When sitting unsupported, his head slumps to one side. He is well-loved. She is typically carrying him around with her by the scruff of his neck or by one "arm". Very seldom does he appear golden brown, in fact he typically photographs gray these days, even after he's had a "bath". B's been through some times. Amaris won't leave the house without him most days. In fact, she won't do much of anything if B's not there. She won't eat if he's within view but not within reach, she won't sleep unless he's tucked in beside her, and she won't push her plastic shopping cart without him in the seat. Many times we've had to turn around and go back home at the beginning of a trip because we accidentally left him behind. On a very regular basis, I have a panic attack and convince myself that we are going to lose him somehow, that she'll take him into a store and set him down and we'll never see him again. As a mom, I think that is right up there with the fear that my daughter will somehow accidentally drown in the bathtub or figure out how to climb over the railing on the balcony. The thought of losing B, quite frankly, freaks me out.

I blame his gray hair on stress. I mean, the poor bear went from a quiet, comfortable existence in a crib to being someone's all-the-time BEST friend. He's moved with us 3 times over the course of a year, and he's been with Amaris many times at her best and always at her worst. During our last move, from Texas to Okinawa, Amaris threw up on him 3 times and we had to wash him three different times in three different washing machines over the course of about two and a half days. Amaris doesn't notice a difference in B. To her, he will probably always be golden brown and plump and perfect, with a shiny bow and stitched on eyes. I love that.

I have nothing suitable to wear for a Battalion Christmas Party. And I only found out about it yesterday, so I don't even have enough time to order myself something great online and wear it. It's on my birthday - December 12. As in, one week from today.

Thinking about that, Amaris doesn't have anything to wear either. We're going to really have to improvise.

This is just my newest thing to stress over, I guess. I'll make it through, I'm just going to have to pitch a fit and complain about it first, and then this weekend I'll have to conjure up some kind of a great plan.

I didn't feel like cooking dinner on my birthday anyways. Hmpf.

Last night, I experienced baby girl dropping. Just a little, but enough for me to notice. I distinctly remember that my belly was more "sticky-outy" towards the top a few days ago than it is today. Today it looks like Sierra Summit's "The Face" - steep and sloped! Plus as we were driving home from the commissary, I could feel her diverting herself to my pelvic area. She's still jabbing me periodically in the ribs, but only when I am sitting down and slouching. (Like now.) As I was sitting there feeling her readjusting, I realized I was 30 whole weeks along - 3/4 of the way there! - and that really, she could be born as soon as a month and a half from now. Which is way TOO soon and scares the crap out of me, but at any rate it's the truth. And it's good to come to terms with the truth.

Last night I dreamt that I gave birth to baby girl, and everything was fine (she was definitely a she and they sent us home from the hospital immediately). I keep dreaming that I forget to take pictures at the hospital and wind up leaving with no photos of my baby in the loaner hospital receiving blankets and then I feel guilty. So that sucked. And then she slept all the way through the night, which scared the CRAP out of me, but when I went to check on her she was fine. I realized she hadn't ever eaten before, so decided to make her a bottle, and then a bunch of Mark's family members showed up. His brother brought me Boo and I cried and decided I'd smuggle her through the rest of our time in Okinawa. Apparently the constant criticism I get for not having the desire to nurse Amaris or this baby girl is getting into my head and is causing me to dream weird things about breastfeeding. I'm still not interested in it, but apparently all of the incessant brain warping is affecting my subconscious. I dreamt that baby girl ate 2 oz of formula and was getting sleepy but I'd gone into the other room with her and was determined to do breastmilk. Even though she didn't need it, what with the full newborn serving of formula successfully consumed and all. I nursed her and hated it, but felt like it was what I HAD to do in order to avoid further criticism. And that, honestly, pissed me off. What I do with my boobs is my business, darnit!


Anyways, Amaris and I had a busy day today, we got up early and drove to the clinic so that I could have my 28-week bloodwork done (yes, I know, I'm doing it late) and schedule my next OB visit... But of course I couldn't find my ID card, so had to do some shuffling and driving back to the apartment before I discovered it in my purse, just in the wrong spot. Then we played a while at the playground... Decided to go to story time at the library where I chatted with some other moms and felt like I was so cool and independent for a little while and Amaris got to play with the other kids. Had lunch (mac-n-cheese, carrot sticks and rectangle toast), then went to another appointment and checked the mail before we came home. Amaris was totally exhausted by then, so I laid her down on my bed with her blanket and her B and she fell asleep. The trick to naptime is getting her up in the morning earlier than I want to and keeping her busy! I could've had her down for a nap around 1:30 when her mood changed, but we were en route to our appointment and that took way longer than I thought it would. So we didn't get home till like 3, and by then she was infuriated and totally overexhausted. Poor baby.

All of that is enough to make me want to get another car. It's so nice to have the capability and independence to up and go and DO things. One of the other moms at story time was telling me about the preschool outside the gate and how they've got a full [English] curriculum and only charge $19/day for a once a week setup until 2PM or so. I think after the holidays I may look into enrolling her one day per week, just so she can get out of the house and socialize and interact with other kids guaranteed once a week. Maybe try for Tuesdays or something when I typically don't have anything else exciting going on. I know she'd love it and it would give me a little bit of a relax period (having a little time for housework and peace never hurt anybody!) And baby girl and I could walk to pick her up in the afternoon, which would get me out of the house and doing something active, too.

I'm going to run the idea past Mark this evening. I'm also going to suggest that he start leaving me the car on Thursdays, because I feel like I can get so much done when I just have the car once a week. And Thursdays are a good day, since the library does story time and such. I keep thinking if I can just motivate myself to do SOMETHING, I'll be able to motivate myself to do all the things I want to take care of. Like school. Which I should really quit dragging my feet on.

Or, rather, denial?

I swear I am not nesting. But I know that's what it looks like. Yesterday I did all the laundry (not that there was THAT much), the dishes, cleaned the kitchen, floors and counters, vacuumed the whole house and took down all of the garbage and sorted recyclables. That's a lot for me. Usually I am lucky to get one or two household tasks done in a day. Oh - AND I got Amaris to take a nap. Which was like a gift from above.

When I was pregnant with Amaris, I distinctly remember nesting. It was an odd sort of nesting. I cleaned and reorganized my kitchen pantry. It took me a good 2 hours. I even took pictures when I was done because I was so darned proud of my hard work. Looking at those pictures now I feel like it was really just an cleverly arranged MESS but whatever. I think maybe that is only because here I don't have as much stuff as I did when we lived in Camarillo. Which I blame on Sam's Club - I used to totally abuse that store. My pantry here is smaller and significantly less stocked. But I've already cleaned and reorganized it a couple of times in the past couple of weeks. I didn't feel like I was nesting then. I just felt like I was trying to maintain my sanity.

Last night, though, I was thoroughly exhausted when I laid down in bed. My bedroom was clean, I had witnessed Mark folding and putting away a shirt, Amaris was tucked in and [mostly] peaceful, and my kitchen wasn't a disaster. My floors were all vacuumed... It was a good feeling.

But did I really do that for me? I think I did. Not that there is any way to find out for sure at this point, but I can continue to insist that none of this was nesting, all of it was pure necessity. I'm pretty sure this is the same line of crap everyone gives when they are nesting. Which makes me feel like an idiot.

We bought a little Christmas tree at the exchange today. We were going to buy all the trimmings but I hesitated. The exchange can really be a rip off sometimes. We got a little 6.5' Charlie Brown looking tree for $39.99 - which isn't too bad, but when we went to figure out how to decorate it, we discovered that ornaments would end up costing us no less than $70, and ONE string of 200 clear lights would run us $20. $100 to trim a dinky little Christmas tree in ornaments and lights I don't really care that that much about just didn't feel right. I mean, I have a collection of meaningful Christmas decor back in the states in non-temporary-storage.

So the tree is bare. I put the gifts underneath it and that helped a little, but the branches are so green and empty and dark. So, I've been searching the web for good ideas on inexpensive Christmas decorations. I can work with this. I was considering doing popcorn and cranberries... But the cost of produce here is no joke, and I don't feel like having moldy cranberries hanging out on our Christmas tree. Plus this building is kind of old and gross and there is like a perpetual roach problem waiting to be stirred up. I don't want to give them a good reason to hang out in my living room, like popcorn on my Christmas tree.

So, I decided I MUST have this candy garland. It's a bunch of brightly wrapped junky candies STAPLED together! How awesome is that? I am super excited about it. I have a box full of staples. I just need the candy! So now I'm on a quest to find brightly colored candies and peppermints. And then I can put up colored lights, hang a bunch of candy canes and such from the branches and we'll be set. Amaris ends up trying to eat the ornaments anyways. Well, she did last year. I don't anticipate this year to be any different. She's no fool, she knows what candy canes are. We went to the Holiday Bazaar today and they were passing out candy canes. She cracked that thing open so fast I didn't even know what happened, and then she kept telling me - very matter-of-factly - that it was a "special candy". So I figure the lower 3' of branches on our Christmas tree will be bare anyways by the time we get to December 25. That's how it worked out last year!

So I'm excited. I have purpose again. I'm figuring it out.

I'm ready. I'm ready to have a Christmas tree up, lights on my balcony, and cocoa on the stove. The Santa cookie jar is out, the stockings are hung, and I've started wrapping presents. Oh - and the weather is finally not stiflingly hot - I wore a tank top today and it was not enough! I shivered! I didn't know I could shiver in Okinawa.

It's an exciting time.

Santa's coming to town! (And I hope I don't have to tell him how rotten Amaris has been lately! Hmpf!)

Mark's on duty tonight. He has our car. But I can see our parking spot from my window, and it is not empty.

Someone has commandeered our assigned parking stall, and it freaks me out. I mean, that's just weird. Who would park in my assigned parking spot? And why? And how long do they plan on leaving their silver minivan there?


My back hurts lately. And I'm tired. I'll be heading to bed soon. Amaris beat me there.

Dinner has been served, my day was spent cooking. We had a good meal, slightly distracted by Wheel of Fortune, but delicious nonetheless. The purple yams didn't work out - I got frustrated peeling them and after roasting them I had trouble mashing them, so I just threw them out. I'd have been the only one eating them anyways, so it wasn't a major loss. We still had way too much food.

I'm thankful for a lot of things. Trying to focus on the positive rather than the negative is not my strong suit, but this year I do have a lot to count myself lucky over.

I'm so fortunate. I have a beautiful daughter (and another on the way), a truly wonderful husband, a roof over my head, food on the table, and plenty to keep me warm (or cool, depending on the weather!) I'm being blessed with great opportunities all the time. My family "back home" is wonderful - my grandma is one of my very best friends, she and my mom raised me wonderfully (if I do say so myself) and I have countless other family members and friends that I know I can trust and rely on.

Life is good. Even though right now, my back is killing me and my feet are tired. (Trying not to focus on that, though, remember?)

Happy Thanksgiving, everybody. :)

Thank you, oven. And thank you, shallow pie pan. You have both made my day a little hotter and more rotten. My left pinky and ring finger will NEVER forgive you.

I hope you know that. And I hope you're satisfied. For SHAME!

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving and I'm feeling a little overwhelmed. Not too terrible, but the feeling IS there.

I have my purple yams ready, and my white potatoes (because you can't find red ones here), and my green beans that I bought yesterday on a field trip to a local produce stand with my neighbor. I'm as ready as I'll ever be. The pumpkin bars are in the fridge, the cranberries are jelling.

Today I'll spend the afternoon baking pies and cookies, and before bed I'll wash and trim all of my vegetables. I'm thinking that I should have bought more carrots. The part that worries me most of all is keeping up with the dishes while I work, which I'm utterly terrible at.

I know that we're going to have entirely too much turkey, entirely not enough casserole dishes, and I'll end my Thursday tired and stuffed. No, not like a turkey. I don't stuff my turkeys. It freaks me out to put stuffing in that gaping raw body cavity.

We'll make it work. For the moment, I'm savoring the last few minutes of peace before Amaris wakes up (I'm estimating it'll be over with in approximately 14 minutes) and then it'll be off the computer chair for me, and into the kitchen to clean things up and get them ready for the marathon baking I'll be doing this afternoon. And to fold the last of the laundry. And to make the beds.

I've become so much more domestic than I ever dreamed I'd be.

I wish I'd taken a picture of all the laundry I just finished, before it was finished. You can't even understand the magnitude of this chore. And for someone who hates folding and putting away the laundry as much as I do, I feel like I did a pretty good job at setting my mind to it, sitting down and DOING it.

But now my back hurts and I'm tired. And my bed sheets are in the dryer.

I need this picture where I can see it periodically. It makes me happy.

My newest dilemma is sweet potatoes. I was looking forward to cooking some delicious Thanksgiving sweet potatoes this year, and didn't really want to use the canned variety. But sweet potatoes here in Okinawa are... well, purple. Really purple.

And purple yams just doesn't seem Thanksgiving-y to me. In fact, it seems downright weird. Ah... Every day is a new adventure.

I know what it's all about.

Okaaaaay, we've hit that time - that special time in any separation where I am DONE being patient. I was not to expect Mark home before 8PM and here it is 10 after 7, and I'm wiggly and anxious for him to come through the door.

I think up until now I've done pretty damn well this time. But enough's enough! C'mon home now!

The ball pictures are finally in! I can't help it, I'm impatient.

I am apparently just past 28 weeks pregnant now.

Before I explode, I must point out that there is some weird steady humming sound going on in my apartment and it is driving me batty. I'm a little temperamental. It's been inexplicably irritating my ears for about 20 minutes now.

So, 28 weeks pregnant, and I have to say that there are some weird things people think it's okay to say to a pregnant woman. Any comment regarding weight, obviously (well, you'd think, anyways) is a no-no. A couple of weekends ago, we were out running errands and we stopped for lunch at the Macaroni Grill. It was raining so I unbuckled Amaris before we opened the car doors, and then got out and ran to get under the awning while Mark got her out and ran to meet me with her in his arms. As I was waiting there by the door, a couple came out of the restaurant and the man - a middle-aged guy - took one look at me and said, "Well look at YOU! You need to stop eating here so often."

I'm sure he thought that was the funniest thing he had ever said. I halfway chuckled courteously, then rolled my eyes and wished he would slip down the wet steps. He didn't.

When I relayed the experience to Mark, he said, "What an asshole." For the rest of the day, the going joke between Mark and I was that clearly, I eat too much. That's why I look like this. If anyone is reading this rant who has ever made such a comment to a pregnant woman, I'll have you know that the Wii Fit still deems me in the "healthy" BMI range, even for an UN-pregnant woman of my age and height. Thank you very much.

Also since arriving here, I've had several people (all with the best of intentions, I know) say to me something along the lines of, "Wow, I couldn't even tell you were pregnant!" Or, "You're TEENY compared to me when I was pregnant!"

I know these comments are meant to be complimentary. But when you're pregnant, your brain does this weird thing where you interpret everything oversensitively. So they all translate in my screwed up pregnant brain to "I thought that was a beer belly!", "You appeared to be just a little tubby!", or "You're abnormal." Honestly, I'm "teeny" compared to ME when I was pregnant. Nobody remembers the details, really, but everybody recalls the beginning and end stages of their pregnancies. When I was pregnant with Amaris, I had NO belly and then I had a huge belly:


The stuff in the middle, despite me having a handful of pictures, was unimportant and not really noteworthy. I'm currently in the middle of this pregnancy. I'm going to get bigger before it's through.

Pregnancy is a funny thing, I think.

Baby girl currently has the hiccups, which were one of my least favorite things during my pregnancy with Amaris.

Last night, I let Amaris sleep in my bed. Because Mark's in the jungle and I'm a big loser who hates to sleep alone. I have separation anxiety. Anyways she got all cozy on his side of the bed, gave me good night kisses and then said, "Where's my daddy-kiss?" I about cried. She can be so darned cute. I explained to her that daddy was at work (daddy's wuk?) in the jungle (daddy's wuk inna jungle?) and that it would be just her and me for a couple of nights. She's such a trooper. I love when he comes home from work and she runs to him, excited beyond all measure, throws her little arms around his legs and says, "DADDY!" Too freaking adorable.

For once in my life, I feel like I've been consistently in the right place at the right time. I mean, knock on wood, but how cool is it that I got a free crib yesterday and today while I was checking my mail when a lady said, "When is your baby due?" I said, "February." She said, "Is it a boy or a girl?" I said, "It's a girl."

Out in the parking lot, she gave me a bag full of newborn girl clothes! She said her little one had just outgrown them and they were on their way to the thrift store.

I mean, holy jeez! I had been seriously suffering on the baby clothes front and now I've got a real live start! In that bag were several onesies, 3 t-shirts, a few hats, socks, booties, mittens, and a couple of sleepers. Everything Carters brand and in GREAT condition. They are tumbling in my dryer as we speak.

Amaris and I went with my neighbor and her son to story time at the library here on base this morning and we had a really good time. Amaris is such a social little thing (just like her daddy), she loves every opportunity to hang out with other kids. Afterward we went to their house for lunch and the kids played a little more. It was a really nice day. And, as an added bonus, I got Amaris to take a real live nap! She has, for the past year and some change, refused to take naps for me. She'll nap if daddy's watching her, or if she is with anyone else, but NEVER when I'm around. Today, she was in a bad mood and I got her snug in her bed, turned on Backyardigans and pulled her curtains closed. Within 20 minutes she was sound asleep, and stayed that way for a good solid 2 hours. It was seriously a miracle. And she woke up in the BEST mood. Score.


I feel like overall, things are really looking up lately and I am so grateful.

Yesterday, Mark went to the jungle. He'll be there through the end of the week. I have the car. I very rarely have the car.

Having the car yesterday earned us one free crib! That's right, boys and girls, no more wondering where baby girl will sleep, the crib has arrived. Another Marine wife on another base was trying to get her "spring cleaning" (in November!) done and didn't need it anymore, so she advertised it on JapanUpdate - the major local source for classified ads. Yesterday afternoon, Amaris and I embarked on our biggest Okinawa excursion together since arriving here. I got us all the way, safely, to Kadena Air Base and we picked up the crib - which I intend to paint, I am not a big fan of honey colored pine - and $200 worth of groceries. All by myself. Seriously, this is a big deal for me.

And then we drove home, and got only moderately lost. But we made it! Hooray!

We climbed into our bed last night (Mark was polite enough to wait only moderately impatiently for me so we could do it at the same time) and it was like God had put a cloud in my room. I laid there, staring at the ceiling, and then proclaimed that it felt weird to be so CLOSE to it. Mark agreed and said it was like the room had gotten shorter. Then we laid there a little longer, and I said, "Can this moment just last forever?"

Yes, having my own bed, my old sheets (which actually somehow SMELL like "home"), all of it back in my possession was really THAT good. I slept almost entirely through the night for the first time in nearly 3 months, and I didn't freeze at any point during the night. I'd call that a massive success.

I had some further drama last night trying to hang pictures on the wall. Several of the major walls I wanted to use for picture hanging seem to be solid concrete and completely worthless. You can't even get the entire tip of the nail in past the paint before the nail bends. Miserable walls. I haven't entirely given up yet, but I am frustrated with my worthless perpetually blank (except for the ink and pencil marks I keep making on them to guide my nail placement) walls. Today I managed to hang a couple of Amaris' shelves in her room, and a couple of pictures. So that's a good sign and I feel like I've at least accomplished SOMETHING.

So far I think the only thing missing from our shipment is one bedside table lamp. Which is an odd thing to go missing. Perhaps the NTS movers packed it by mistake? I will have no way of knowing the answer for the next three years unless it magically appears here somehow.

Anyways we're about settled in, we're making it work.

My bed is taller than I remember. Amaris' furniture is pinker than I remember. My home phones are mysteriously not working. My vacuum is dusty. The TV is in a makeshift place.

I'm elated. And tired. Thank goodness it all made it here safely. Finally.

Yesterday we went out and bought a bunch of crap to fix the place up with our household goods arriving soon. TV wall-mounts, shelves, etc. I was so excited to get things functional. It took me over a week to hang Amaris' bedroom curtains because the wall next to the window where the bracket was supposed to be installed seriously had the consistency of Papier-mâché and screws, anchors, nails, whatever all just literally FELL into the wall. It was the most irritating crap ever.

So after a week of debating, and having her brand new, beautiful curtains hang awkwardly from cabinet handles above her closet, it was while I was at the computer that I had the epiphany. I looked up and saw, to my surprise, curtain hooks. Mounted directly onto the metal window frame. Of course!

So we bought a drill. And we made holes in the window frame. And we put her curtains up with success. They look fantastic.

I was motivated last night to do the remaining DIY projects around the house. Get the brackets up on the walls to mount the TVs, hang the shelf over the computer desk for the printer to sit on, you name it. But Mark was in the mood to have a "lazy day" and we put it all off till today. Which would have been fine. Except today everything turned into a total disaster and failure.

We found a stud in our living room wall and went to drill into it for the plasma mount. But that thing is some kind of solid. We determined that it must be a metal stud. After looking it up online, we learned that mounting a heavy TV onto a metal stud is not a good idea at all. So I put the mount back into it's box, thoroughly disappointed and quite frankly upset.

On to the next project. We moved everything out of the way to hang the shelf on the wall above the computer. Only to discover that the entire wall is chock full of the same apparently metal material that our studs are made of. I am assuming this is because the wall backs up to the kitchen - specifically the area where the stove is - and I would suppose the exhaust from everyone's units above and below ours are utilizing some sort of central exhaust system encased in this wall. No shelf for me.

Finally, beaten down, I thought the bracket in Amaris' room HAD to work out. We tried two studs to no avail (those metal bastards mean business) and then I said something along the lines of... Why do I need to use a stud anyways if I have these huge-ass anchors?? So we managed to get the "huge-ass anchor" into the wall, but to my dismay when we attempted to screw the bracket into it, the anchor fell, with a clatter, into the wall. Leaving a dime-sized hole in Amaris' room.

I cried.

Seriously, can't SOMETHING go according to plan here? Are these walls doomed to be forever blank? I'm frustrated and disappointed and depressed. And, okay, we can blame a good chunk of it on my hormones, but the truth is I just wanted to have SOMETHING accomplished. And instead, I've got nothing. Nowhere to put our TV, nowhere to put the printer... The house looks exactly the same as it looked last week. Except for Amaris' curtains. Which look great.

I give up.

Tomorrow night I'll be sleeping in MY bed!

I am freaking elated.

We saw Madagascar 2 yesterday at the Kadena theater. It was funny, and Amaris managed to sit [mostly] still through it. She pointed out every animal every time they appeared on the screen: "Look, mommy, a 'raffe!/zebra!/lion!/etc" She even started pointing out details: "He has white stripes!" It made for a fun movie experience.

It's funny - during the first movie I noticed Chris Rock's voice, but nobody else's. This time while we were watching, I was quizzing myself. I am glad to say that I got the voices that were bothering me the most (I KNOW that voice!!) correct: Yes, the lion IS Zoolander/Ben Stiller in a furry costume, and yes, the giraffe IS Ross/David Schwimmer with screwed up teeth. For some reason, those particular actors crack me up in their respective roles in Madagascar.

While we're talking about voice-overs, I'd like to point out that Disney/Pixar did a horrible job choosing the voice for Sally, the Porsche. We watch Cars at least twice a day lately - Amaris is a tad obsessed - and Bonnie Hunt may as well have been Cloris Leachman. I mean, I like Bonnie Hunt. I like Cloris Leachman, too. But can we say OLD? Her voice just isn't sexy and young enough to play the part of a later model Porsche. They should have used Kate Beckinsale or Elizabeth Hurley or something. Somebody hot. Somebody with an accent. Every time I am watching Cars, Sally irritates me, and I feel like I am watching my 60 year old aunt try to woo a 20 year old. (Which isn't unbelievable, though it is a little disturbing. My 60 year old aunt has her eyebrows tattooed on, heavy and unnatural red coloring in her hair and giant sparkly white veneers on her teeth.) Her laugh is the worst. Cars is a really cute movie. But they did screw up. Also, WHY did they name her "Sally"? Everybody gets these cool, fitting names. And she has to be "Sally"?? The only "Sally" that is any amount of cool at all is Sally the rag doll from The Nightmare Before Christmas. And that proves that you can't name a character "Sally" successfully without being Tim Burton. That means NO, Disney/Pixar. No naming sexy female Porsches "Sally". They could have given her a hot, German name or something. Giselle. I dunno. I just know that they could have done better than "Sally".

Clearly I have way too much time on my hands.

That sounded totally gross.

Anyways the ball went fine. I tried, anyways. We didn't stay super long, left around 10 and picked up Amaris (who had a great time at the child care center) and then I drove home (since Mark had 3 beers and the DUI legal limit here is .03 BAC. No, that's not a typo. .03. I'd probably have driven home anyways, but it takes the legal restriction for Mark to admit wholeheartedly that he needs help.

The people we had taking pictures for us with our camera were more than a little tipsy, so we don't have a whole lot of great pictures of us from the event. Most of them are blurry or off-center or both.



But when we arrived, we had professional pictures done and that photographer took 4-5 different shots. Hopefully at least one of those turned out good enough to order prints of. I'm just waiting impatiently to get the email with information on how to retrieve the pictures.

Anyways, I made it. The ball itself was really nice. Dinner was decent, service was great and the company was good. I can't complain too much.

...I look fine.


Wish me luck!

So it's Marine Corps Ball time! Happy belated birthday, Marines. :)

Last year, I spent the entire day fretting about making things JUST right.

Today, after having seen myself in my gown (which, by the way, I paid WAY too much for and it looks nothing like the picture it was advertised with) several times and feeling disappointed at my lack of feminine curves thanks to my pregnant belly, I am less motivated. Add to that the fact that I honestly am low on supplies and can't make EVERYTHING perfect and I know that and you have my current mood. I mean, had our shipment arrived here when it was originally supposed to (by November 2), I might have a little more drive. But since it didn't get onto the island till Wednesday and won't be delivered to my house till Monday, I am lacking. No curling irons, no jewelry, bare minimum makeup supply, etc. Not that everything would have been in the shipment - I mean, I would still have needed to buy hair products and such - but at least I'd have not had to buy other necessities, like the new bra and the new "formal" shoes - and then I might have had some extra cash to spend on the little details.

But I didn't. And I honestly still don't know what I am doing with my hair. I have it up in experimental option number 1 right now - rag curlers - and if I hate this, I'll have to rinse it out and start over. We'll see what happens.

By the way, fire engines just arrived at my tower, and a Japanese fire man (who looked an awful lot like Jackie Chan) just came to my door and asked to check my kitchen smoke detectors. And yes, that picture really IS an accurate representation of what I look like right now. It's a damned good thing that I put the shirt on. I was considering hanging out in my bra till I had my hair figured out.

Anyhow, I am playing the procrastination game. I don't want to take my hair down till Mark gets home with my hair spray (I didn't have any of that, either) and I am scared to start on my makeup because, like I said, I might end up re-starting with my hair. So for now I am just hanging out and doing nothing productive. Really good, right?

Last year's Kari would be so disappointed. And so would a handful of other people I can think of (Ifer, grandma, Aunt Sheri, etc). Oh well, it is what it is, and I am what I am.

Everything is totally sneaking up on me. I just stared at iCal for like 10 minutes trying to convince myself that Thanksgiving wasn't really just two weeks away. It is.

And just like I feel unprepared for baby girl's birth, I also feel unprepared for the turkey feast that is approaching with uncontrollable speed.

I have a pretty damned big turkey in the freezer. I bought one of those disposable foil turkey roasting pans - I opted to spend the extra $0.50 and get the one with handles (We're high society here, what can I say?). My pantry has a couple of bags of Mrs. Cubbison's in it (or is it Pepperidge Farms? I don't know.) and enough canned pumpkin and cream of mushroom soup to make you raise an eyebrow. I own Bing Crosby's "White Christmas" holiday CD (and can't wait to pop it in but have been waiting for the right moment) Amaris is looking forward to "helping" me cook the "chicken". I've compiled almost every holiday recipe that I can think of (which totals out to WAY more food than will be necessary, but if I am anything, I'm indecisive and I can't "slim down" my to-do list for fear of leaving out the "wrong" things) and have organized them in a handy little Word "notebook" document - complete with a grocery list and a timeline for when to prepare what.

But still I feel un-ready. And awkward.

I'm working on it. Whether or not I'm ready means absolutely nothing - Thanksgiving is coming and I will be cooking.

Yesterday we finally got word that our household goods had arrived on the island and were passing through customs. I got overly excited and assumed that we'd have our belongings in our house by Friday - despite the fact that Friday is already scheduled to be a hectic day with the Marine Corps Ball to worry about and Mark doing some volunteer event. At least we'd have the weekend to get things settled in and "normal".

Wrong.

The soonest they can deliver us our things is Monday. It kills me to know that my mattress is currently somewhere on this 463-square-mile island, and will remain in a giant wooden box till next week. Next week, when Mark is slated to be out in the field for 3 days. The timing on these things is absolutely phenomenal, let me tell you. I've been trying really hard to curb my complaining on the matter, but the facts are these: Every morning my daughter wakes up coughing. My entire body hurts. My walls are bare. I'm losing my mind.

For me to be in pain is one thing. I'm a big girl, though, and despite the discomfort, I at least understand what is going on (as much as I can, anyways) and I know why I am in pain and that it is temporary. Plus, if I weren't pregnant, I'm sure the pain would be significantly less. A good portion of this dilemma is my moodiness.

For my two-year-old to be suffering SUCKS. You can't explain to a toddler that you know her sleeping conditions (and living conditions) are shitty, but that it is going to be better at some point. You can't explain to a toddler that her empty, cold, industrial bedroom is why she wakes up with a massively hoarse voice and pain in her chest every morning and that you're really trying to make it better. She has been a real trooper so far. But I still don't think it's fair for her and honestly it makes me sad. My effort means nothing. I asked Mark last night if he ever wondered what Amaris thinks of the whole thing - if she worries that this will be permanent, her empty bedroom with the twin-sized air mattress and no furniture, the little TV on an end table in the corner of the living room, the blank walls throughout this echo-ey space we've been calling "home"... Her empty bathroom. I wonder if she looks around and thinks, "Gee, I miss the way things were." In San Angelo she had a bright, colorful bedroom with fun furniture and stuffed animals and all of her things. Even in transit, she at least always had a bed to sleep in, with real bedding and a springy, elevated mattress.

Mark doesn't know what Amaris thinks about this situation. Obviously, neither do I. But I can't wait to see her face when her bedroom is re-assembled.

I feel isolated and tired and bitter.

And I am slipping back into that mindset where I decide that I don't need anybody or anything. I mean, I need my husband and I need my kids. And sure, a few carefully chosen friends and family members (none of whom are here in Japan). But that's it. Everybody else is an unnecessary waste of effort.

I'm frustrated and I quit.

My little countdown thingy says there are 93 days to go. That just about puts me into a total panic.

I feel unprepared and stressed and short on cash and exhausted. I am looking forward to the holidays - honest, I am, but I am feeling like the timing of pretty much everything is all wonky this year.

I can't believe that just last year we were in Port Hueneme enjoying Christmas together. It seems like it's been so long since we left California.

And I want this Christmas to be a good one, but I feel so completely overwhelmed at everything. We'll be doing Thanksgiving by ourselves for the first time in... 4 years. (I did Thanksgiving for us in 2004 when we first moved out and Mark brought up a group of single Marines to our little one-bedroom apartment with him for the weekend. That was our funnest ever Thanksgiving.) And I don't have any of "my own" kitchen tools this time. And then Christmas. With our current financial state (which is not good - international moves on very little money make my credit cards hurt) and our lack of ANY holiday decor... And the ever-growing list of things we NEED before baby girl arrives... I'm just on pins and needles.

Things we still need to acquire before baby girl makes her entrance:

• infant car seat
• stroller
• crib
• change table
• pack-n-play
• bouncy seat
• clothing
• diapers

Otherwise she'll be sleeping on the floor, naked, and never leaving the house.

I am not kidding when I say we literally have ONE set of PJs for her, and that's IT. We have her bedding thanks to a good friend's generosity... And a teddy bear. I have bottles and some other random things, and that's the extent of it.

I'm stressed out. I can't figure out how we're going to manage to get these things before she arrives, when we've got about 6 pay days in between now and her due date, and then in that little mix, we've got Thanksgiving and Christmas to concern ourselves with.

This is why I don't drink coffee before bed. I stay up all night panicking over our unpreparedness.

I had my ultrasound this morning, likely the last glimpse I'll have into my uterus till this little one is born. She still appears to be a "she". And she has the cutest little nose. The tech said she was measuring in at right around 2 lbs, 1 oz, and I said she has some crazy long legs. Which are right by my ribs on the right. And that explains a whole lot of kicking and jabbing I've been enduring from her lately. She apparently likes to have them outstretched.

While at my ultrasound, I got a little light headed and ended up passing out a little, then puking a little. That was exciting. I guess there is a reason they do these routine scans at 20 weeks instead of 26. The nurses said my belly combined with the angle of the exam table I was laying on probably decreased my blood flow and oxygen. I say 7:30AM is just too damn early to be at the hospital for anything non-emergency. But I was grateful to have kind nurses surrounding me and taking care of me and not totally freaking out over me. I was so sure they were going to admit me and monitor me over it. And I was embarrassed for puking at such a minor and routine procedure.

Either way, I'm fine now and can't complain. Well, I can complain. But not about pregnancy per se. My complaint currently is that I had to use the webcam to snap a picture of my ultrasound photo print out. And that's just... well, "ghetto". If my household goods had arrived when they promised they would, I'd have my scanner right now instead. That would have made for a much nicer quality picture to post here on my blog of baby girl. Stupid TMO!

Anyways this is the belly yesterday... So around 26 weeks and some change. I'd post a comparable photo from Amaris' pregnancy but somewhere in between weeks 25 and 32 or so, I apparently lost interest in properly labeling the pictures. I also lost some interest in TAKING the pictures for a while. So there are some unlabeled pictures in my stash from Amaris' pregnancy and then there is also a big gap where pictures should have been.

That's my favorite maternity shirt. It's crazy soft.

Oh my.

Yesterday, for the first time in well over a year, I got my hair cut. In Texas, I had my bangs trimmed once. Other than that, my last hair cut was this one. Notice Amaris' apparent age:

I have that picture dated as May 2007. It's been a while. My hair had gotten unruly and out of control.

Seriously.

It was bad. It was past the point of frumpiness. I could ONLY ponytail it. Which, hey, I like ponytails. But I don't like them THAT much. I want SOME variety. And it was totally unhealthy. I found myself studying my split ends daily. Gross. This is me fresh out of bed Thursday morning, "contemplating" (okay, okay, deciding just how much I DIDN'T like...) the hair cut Mark had chosen for me several days prior. I mean, I liked it. But I felt it was possibly a little too.. How do I put this? Texas for me. I've had enough Texas. That 6 month dosage pretty much Texased me out and filled me to capacity. I was unsure I wanted one of their clearly identifiable BIG hairdos. I've never been much for "big hair".

So I changed my mind. perused my other options and settled. This was a hard task for me because I am notoriously indecisive about these sorts of things. I want a "cute" hairstyle, but I also CRAVE something low-maintenance and ponytail friendly. Yes, despite our differences lately, I still love my old friend the ponytail. She's been faithful and good to me and I can't complain... much. If these were labeled clockwise from the top left as 1, 2, 3 and 4... #3 would be the first to go. The model looked too much like my former neighbor who pretty much was one of the most hateful people ever. Plus it's bordering on what I like to call the "cyclops" style. Now, I'm not knocking "side" bangs. Hell, I sported them myself for a while, and they are cute. But I HATE when they cover an entire eye. That's just too much. And irritating. #4 would be next to go because while I do like the layers, I have no idea what the front looks like and I need some sort of visual on what is happening to my forehead. I have a weird scar thing up there that I like to keep covered as much as I can. Plus, my bangs hadn't completely grown out yet and Mark likes them, so I needed to figure out something to do with them that didn't mean going bang-less. Not right yet, anyways.

So the toss up was between, for me, #1 and #2. Which are almost the same haircut. The model in #1 has a horridly annoying face, so I used a black pen to scribble her out and "un-distract" myself. (And Mark). Mark announced that he hated #2. I couldn't figure out why. To me, it looked almost identical to #1! So I asked. He didn't like the "flippy" ends. Okay, fine. #1 it was.

So at noon I was showering and washing the tangled mess of hair that I'd been loathing for months, and by one I was out the door. I said I'd come home a new woman.

My stylist was pleasant and friendly. She took her time and flat ironed the crap out of my hair. Which, I'll admit, I'm too lazy to do. I'll flat iron it, but probably not to the same extent that she did - she did it in sections and layers and with a REALLY expensive iron. After I've washed her products out of my hair, and it returns to it's usual unruly, wavy ways, I'll probably blow dry it with a round brush and then run my lower-class flat iron through it a few times. It'll be a little bigger, but it'll be easier and less time consuming. Which, when you're impatient like I am, is priceless. The most important thing is that it looks and feels WORLDS better and I am elated. My head feels lighter and my hair feels healthy again. She took off about 7" after all was said and done. Holy jeez.

I don't want to point fingers but it seems a lot of my friends are pretty darn hateful. And negative. Like, unrelentingly negative. I'm a negative person in general, but with this presidential election, I kind of feel like either outcome would have hopefully been a new beginning and we should all, as a nation, embrace that. I'm sure I'd have been sad if McCain had won The White House, but I don't think I'd be sitting and stewing in negativity over it. I am of the feeling that anything, at this point, would be a welcome change from the past 8 years we've had politically in America. I mean, let's be honest, they've been a nightmare.

Sure, I was rooting for Obama. Sure, I smiled when he was announced the winner. Of course I did. But had McCain won, I'd have shrugged and said, "It's just 4 years, and SOMETHING positive is bound to happen eventually." I mean, either someone was going to get elected and keep making the same mistakes Bush has been making, and our economy will fail further... Or someone was going to get elected and turn things around. Regardless of who the new president is, you've GOTTA be hoping for things to turn around. Obama has his work cut out for him. But he is a young, vibrant face, and honestly is full of untapped potential. All politicians are crooked. (Except for Ron Paul, who would have been a wonderful choice for America, if only everyone had been listening closely enough. ;P) All politicians are going to lie, cheat, and steal. Obama hasn't even had an opportunity to shine yet (or to tarnish) and so many of my friends are already implying that the future is so dim with him standing in the center of it all. Am I hanging out with the wrong people? Are we all really so different? I want what is best for this country. My husband is busting his ass on a daily basis for our rights and freedoms. I want good things for America, believe me. I know that my friends all have the best intentions, but honestly, when Bush won the elections 4 and 8 years ago, didn't we all cry and kick and scream and worry that the future was ruined? And somehow, we made it. We're at the end of the Bush presidencies and we made it. We're alive. Our economy is shit, our military morale is low, our reputation is tarnished... But we survived. And there is some hope. There's always hope.

If I hear one more person give me a pathetic, stupid, self-serving reason that they are disappointed McCain lost the election (so far those are the only kinds I've heard), I might scream. If I hear one more person tell me unfalteringly that we're doomed when really at this point we're at a new beginning and NOBODY can predict our future with any realism or accuracy, I am going to pitch a fit. Let's have a little faith, people. Let's see what happens. In four years if you still feel this miserable, you'll have another opportunity to make your voice heard. For now let's take it one day at a time.

I love my friends and I'd hate to feel like I am losing respect for them, but here lately they don't seem to be making themselves very enjoyable or flexible. I've always known that I've had friends with different beliefs than my own, and it's never bothered me before in the past. My differences with some of my friends still don't bother me. But those are the friends that are willing to show a little optimism about things, and they seem to be few and far between. For now, I'm feeling disappointed.



Also, today was Amaris' first dentist appointment. She screamed bloody murder the WHOLE time, and then wiped the flouride off her teeth and onto my sleeve. It was very pleasant, let me tell you. Luckily she doesn't have to go back for a year.