scollar's Xanga

New Project

Wed, 24 Sep 2008 01:02:34 GMT

I'm trying this new thing called Sadie's Survival Guide which is...exactly what it sounds like. I'm writing about my experiences with new motherhood. I'll be giving some tips, some commentary on life when your best buddy is bald and toothless, and some product reviews and suggestions.

First installment: Surviving Breastfeeding-Part 1 (Because that kind of topic deserves at least 2 parts.)

Tornadoes and Puke

Wed, 14 May 2008 15:47:22 GMT

The last four posts I have written on blogspot have included tornado destruction, a letter to Norah, the face of parenthood and my top ten favorite movies.
To read, go here.

The Story of a Birth

Tue, 22 Apr 2008 21:43:46 GMT

Should you be interested in reading about the day Norah was born, you can find it here. And should you be interested in staring at her and thinking about how cute she is, you can do that here.

Please excuse my mouth. It kind of ruins the picture.

Week 39...Tomorrow

Fri, 04 Apr 2008 15:12:29 GMT

You people on xanga have really been left out of the loop. I think the last time I blogged here about being pregnant was when I could still fit into at least three pairs of pants and could get off the couch without grunting and puffing like a fat Italian man with a handlebar mustache.

However, I think if you ever really read my xanga with interest you have probably also read my new site, which is frequently updated, and also has a much more pleasing color scheme.

I just thought I would pop in and say "Hello! I'm kind of chubby! And almost not pregnant anymore!" and also make a clean space for comments from people like Jasmine and Garrett.

Realization, way after the fact

Mon, 10 Dec 2007 16:21:03 GMT

My xanga colors remind me of vomit.

That's disgusting and I should change them.

Grumbling

Wed, 14 Nov 2007 16:37:53 GMT

Hey?!

Why aren't you people visiting my new blog and leaving me comments so I'll actually know you're visiting? I'm telling you, the new one is muchmuch more exciting than the old one. Believe me!

Just in case you need it again.

*Edit: That sounded meaner than I meant for it to. Sorry!

Erm, Ahem, Throat Clearing

Sat, 27 Oct 2007 22:05:56 GMT

I moved my blog.

I know, this is probably gettng old, people moving their blogs around and leaving xanga, but I really I need to move on. This sounds so very dramatic. I'm slowly working on publicizing the blog...so I can make millions of dollars.

Rusty and I were planning waiting to reveal the blog until it was done, but I was so dang excited about it that I'm going to go ahead and link it now. It will be under maintenance for a bit, but its ok. You'll live.

Don't worry. I'll keep my xanga up. In fact, I have a link to this site on the new one so everyone can have access to all ridiculous things I wrote about on here. And so I can still post on your blogs, dear friends.

Here it is! Ta-Dah!

Also, Degrassi is on public television and I am about to fall over I am so excited about it. Visit my new site!

The Story of a Name

Thu, 25 Oct 2007 16:25:44 GMT

My name is Mercedes. Most people call me Sadie, and most people do not know that my name is Mercedes, but it is. Sometimes people find out that my name is Mercedes and they say "Your name is Mercedes? I had no idea!" And then I say "Yep, my name is Mercedes." You'd be surprised how often this happens to me.

I like my names. Both of them. I like Sadie because it is old and I have only met two other Sadies in my entire life and one of them was about ten years younger than me. I also like Sadie because it is not especially refined or sophisticated and I am not especially refined or sophisticated. Mercedes is much more refined and sophisticated and if I went by Mercedes I think I would feel like I was somehow letting my name down, like it was expecting a Julie Andrews type of girl and instead got this sweatpanted crazy girl. However, I like Mercedes because it is also very romantic and has a story behind it and I love stories. I am full of them. One of my dad's favorite books is The Count of Monte Cristo, I have not read this book but I really think I need to, seeing as I am named after the heroine. My dad really liked Mercedes and wanted to name me after her. I love that there is a reason for my name. I like to reserve Mercedes for when I am feeling refined and sophisticated and romantic. It's kind of like my alter ego. (For the record, I'm sure there is a reason and story behind Sadie too, I just don't know that story.)

In fact, I believe all of my siblings have wonderful names.

Amie I don't know her middle name.
Benjamin Jared
Audrey Jean
Mercedes (Sadie) Anne
Sara Frances
Tristan no middle name (no I am not joking)

Rusty and I were fairly certain that we had names picked out for the lime baby. I can't share them because they are top secret and even though we are less thrilled with them, I still can't share them. We were watching Gladiator the other night and decided to look up how popular our names were, and much to our dismay, they are both very popular names. So as I just said, we are slightly less thrilled with them. We don't want our kids to run around with really popular names. We are snobs like that.

To be honest though, I am sort of relieved. You see, there wasn't really a reason behind the names, we just liked them. And in the back of my mind I was always sort of uneasy about that because I could imagine our baby asking us one day where his/her name came from. And I could imagine the disappointment that would spread behind his/her eyes when I replied "Where did your name come from? Nowhere. It came from nowhere. I just liked it." I can imagine that disappointment in our child because I can imagine my own disappointment if I had found out there was no reason for naming me Mercedes (Sadie).

People keep offering me their babyname books, and I am trying to find out wasy to politely refuse. I don't think there is anything wrong with babyname books, and honestly don't think there is anything wrong with naming your babies because you simply like the names. I do believe that for me, naming my baby something just because I feel like it, or happen upon the name in a catalog of names, would be wrong. For me. I like stories too much to let our child have a storyless name.

Oh the angst

Fri, 19 Oct 2007 12:40:22 GMT

I had a good chuckle in chapel yesterday. Dr Vila was sharing some of his experience in Jordan, and he was explaining that many Muslims he spoke with believed that George Bush was responsible for planning Saddam Hussein's execution on the day after Ramadan as a way to stick it to the Muslims. In response, Dr Vila said, "George Bush? George Bush can't even spell Ramadan" in the most loving and gentle way possible. I found it hilarious. Not because I hate George Bush or anything, but just because it was a funny joke. I'm always up for a little sarcasm, especially when it drips from the chapel speaker. (When I think of sarcasm I imagine it doing one of two things. Sarcasm either bites or it drips. I prefer dripping sarcasm.)

I have a love for Amy of Amalah. I read her blog daily. When she was pregnant I remember thinking how fun it would be to chronicle my pregnancy on my blog (even though I wasn't even close to pregnant when I was reading those blogs) and I guess I have sort of done that. But not with the grace or humor or regularity of Amy. Honestly, I don't share 85% of my pregnant journey because I'm not really sure how much people want to know. I wonder what would happen to my piddling readership (I love you Piddling Readers! Don't mistake that!) if I bared all. Do people really want to read about how I was constipated for the first month of being pregnant? Or how brushing my teeth too soon after waking would make me puke? Do people want to know about having gas, and tender breasts and how even now thinking about chicken salad is enough to make me gag? Do the masses want to know that I lost a pound, and may not have gained any more weight, that I have an wretched love for cinnamon raisin bagels, salsa, Taco Bell and Chinese food, that I really HATE the caffeine restrictions, that I honestly am afraid of eating through Rusty's entire paycheck, or that I threw a fit about not having pants that fit me and still look stylish?

I am inclined to think that people don't want to know the dirty details of hip aches and sometimes wishing I wasn't pregnant, or that I cry about strange things and turn into a gushy puddle of slop when I am within ten feet of baby clothes. On the other hand, maybe the people do want to know all of that. Friends, I just don't know.

What was I thinking?

Thu, 18 Oct 2007 15:57:45 GMT

When I was young I was afraid of thunder. I remember waking up during thunderstorms and looking at the clock, counting the hours til morning came and I could get up and not have to lay in my bed trembling with every flash of lightning. I'd anticipate the booms, curling up into a ball, hands ready to cover my ears. As an adult, the fear has been dulled, but its still there. I can manage through small crashes, but inevitably there will be that one crash, that one heart stopping, terrific crash that sends me zooming toward Rusty, head stuck in his armpit, eyes squeezed shut, fingers in ears.

I think I have determined that my fear is really of loud noises in general. When we lived in our aparment last year, the dump trucks made an incredible racket. They would hook up to the giant trash cans, lift the cans and dump the trash. Then the trash cans would come crashing back to the ground. Often the dump trucks would come at six in the morning jerk me, terrified, from sleep. Once I happened to be outside when they dumped the trash and I about peed my pants before I got into the house.

I don't like loud noises. I also don't like storms.

I heard a loud noise of a different kind yesterday, one that I had never heard before. The tornado siren went off yesterday afternoon when I was visiting with some friends. I told Rusty later that it was a good thing I wasn't home alone when it happened because I probably would have peed my pants, starting crying and sat in the bathtub with the cats, my shoes, and the laptop until he came home.

I had forgotten until yesterday how close I live to Tornado Alley. Why in the world did I ever leave New Mexico, where it's hot, dry, and is most definately NOT in Tornado Alley.