too sleep or not to sleep, it's not a question

The alarm to my blackberry gently awoke me like soft ocean waves to my restless haze. Hunter, the pariah, slumped horizontally across the bottom half of the bed. Little miss Stevie Day tossed and turned and gurgled and gabbed as she wedged herself between Shane and me, was having a parade of her own. Simultaneously, the bedroom alarm clock blared in clashing synchronicity with my blackberry alarm. It was five thirty in the morning and there was no way I was shoveling my way out of this disarray of a bed to a treadmill at the gym. Lofty in nature, instead of working out on my lunch, I entertained the idea of revving my metabolism at the sound of a rooster’s crow. It didn't seem impossible, I used to go to yoga at six o’clock in the morning from Potrero to the Marina for a year and a half, five days a week, to fulfill the Darth Vader that was my six year relationship. This headstrong idea has been stirring some trouble for a week and I’ve gone once. When I did, I disreputed the household, in turn, Shane was up at six o’clock in the morning cursing my intentions. Did I forget to mention that our two dogs also occupied space on our queen size bed. My husband severely suffered from the Lincoln complex, all men are created equal, screw our dogs, screw equality, I need sleep!

Early last evening, we were hip to the kid’s routine. We quickly Skyped Grandma Colleen in New York, as she was on a 3 hour difference, to make sure she got to see the kids and for Hunter to bid her sweet dreams and bed bugs bite. Kyle, brother in law extrodainnaire, gave Grandma Colleen a webcam for Christmas and 2010 has never been the same.

Hunter shoved Stevie as he was in one of his non-sharing mood, conveniently, non-apologizing mood as well. Instead, he screamed his new vocabulary favorite, a stern, "no, mommy, no," as he threw fists in the air. We simply ignored him. I loathed my parents when they'd enforce apologies, but I did the same with a toddler and an infant. In highschool, I went two years on a non-speaking term with my brother Steven, because he disapproved of my boyfriend. My parents would mediate especially over the holidays to shake hands, hug, to forgive one another in that Roman Catholic way, but I’d rather have swallowed a thousand chards of broken glass then break my code of silence. Here I was enforcing the same rubbish on my kids. Where's the old Shellie? Have you seen her anywhere?

After a few minutes of man handling, or boy handling, to apologize to his little sister. Our cheap version of instilling a good trait for life, we secretly gave in to dinner time. We had to keep to our schedule, otherwise this here boat would capsize. It was orzo with a brown butter sauce for the two kids and roasted rosemary chicken over a bed of french lentils, kale, carrots, and onions for us. Stevie Day blew Hunter out of the water when it came down to eating, hence her healthy growth of a ten month old. Hunter’s very particular and gravitates closely to simple carbohydrates like juice and candy. Hunter maintains a very petite frame that I almost envy. Stevie Day, on the other hand, will mow down on protein, vegetables, and cardboard boxes.

Following dinner, we brushed Hunter’s teeth, pajamas, and plopped him in front of the television for two series of Thomas the Train. He was obsessed with Thomas. Not sure when that came about, because previous to that, he had an obsession with Yo Gaba Gaba. Don’t ask, I won't tell. As he sat in front of the devil box, we geared Stevie Day for bedtime which included a warm bottle of delicious formula, blanket, and darkness. She puts up a big fight with “sleep” harshly tugging on her ears and shaking her head from left to right, right to left until she’s fraught with exhaustion. Unlike Hunter at her age, I couldn’t plop her in the crib with a bottle and drink herself to sleep. She required a bit more couth.

Shane did well in the reading department and did so nightly with Hunter. Besides, those books were at the appropriate reading level of my husband. I never met anyone so boastful of not reading then Shane, then again, it took an army of boyfriends and awkward dates over decade and a half to discover this gentleman. So he doesn’t read, there were other traits on my list of criteria that made it easy for me to overlook. Shane was generous with his reading, sometimes reading over four books or the same book four times.

We’re riddled with lack of space, so we must separate the kids to avoid any disruption. As soon as Hunter is asleep, Stevie Day is then placed in her crib adjacent to Hunter’s toddler bed. Mommyhood is daunting, but someone's gotta do the shiznit. The clock read eight thirty eight. The house's quiet. I ponder the idea of the gym which is conveniently located down the hill off of 16th Street. Instead, I plop on the couch next to my husband and put my feet on the ottoman as he inquires, “what time is Jersey Shore on?”

This is Shellie advising, “tomorrow’s another day, it’s another opportunity to chance,” back to you Bob at the studio.

2010: Bring it on!

2009 pretty much spiraled through a funnel like Alice falling into that rabbit hole. Where am I? As my girlfriend Vanessa woulds say, all in good fun, "Your in 2010 b*tch!"

I bid 2009 adieu with my dear husband's mouth gaping open an hour prior to countdown. Hunter sugar infested melt down snoozed cozy in his bed. I greeted 2010 with my fellow cohorts Angela and Kenny "On the Nutz" J. Stevie Day, on the other hand, outlasted us all, racing around the hardwood floors past midnight like she was in the Indy 500. Not one bone in my body felt a vengeance to get sh*t faced. On the contrary, I just wanted to be with my family: my kids and my husband. Besides, babysitters were making a killing on new years eve. Who do they think they are? Those shifty little blood suckers cornered the market. I wasn't falling victim. Besides, Valentines day is just around the corner, in which I will probably have to give in to the coercion.


I admit it. I pretty much fell off the face of the blog world. I lead the louse life. I took to hiatus and chose mommyhood. Since Stevie Day, juggling two kids, two dogs, a full time job, my husband. Plus selfish gains like gym time five to six days a week. In addition to losing my baby weight, I struggle to lose an additional fifteen pounds. It's seems absurd, but everyone is not five foot two, alas doesn't wrestle with weight distribution. Finally, assisting my husband's general contractor business. If your chest is swelling with anxiety, then welcome to my world, come on in!

Actually, I enjoy the fast paced way of life. There's nothing more satisfying and yet challenging. I'm furiously thriving. It's a rush that's vivacious. When my head hits my pillow, be rest assured that my sleep is well deserved. I leave behind my yearning to have traveled abroad. That's correct I did no traveling last year. Sure, I went to Tahoe for a summer wedding, but that doesn't even count. Neither does a drive to Sonoma to hang out with friends poolside. Last, but not least, my high school class reunion (decade not included to preserve the right to my privacy; age). I had no intention of attending. I left town at seventeen, why would I want to see these people? My decision was concrete until I found myself searching for flights and accommodations a week out from the reunion. As my husband confirmed that he wouldn't be attending with me, due to financial lynching, I folded my reunion cards.

Here's to 2010! Hard to fathom, but we are headed to the five year wedding mark. Holy sh*t right? It comes fast! Have money, will travel. Perhaps, New Orleans Jazz Festival or South by South West. Definitely visiting with family in New York and Hawaii. If I can find a flight that's an absolute steal, Spain or Portugal or a Greek Island. Note to self: when considering travel, don't forget about your two kids. Second note to self: All kids over the age of two are subject to airfare charges. Okay, so maybe I may have to ex nay on the travel nay. Snarl.
Read, not that electronic kindle gadget, but a real wholesome novel. I've been lured into the shameless reality television galaxy: the HIlls, the City, House wives of what city. My head was wrapped in the warp of it all. I'm taking the initiative to be whisked away in to the world of literature. Can't wait. On the same vein, writing. I must write. I need to write. I have to write. Lastly, overambitiously, finish my novel and call it a year. Third note to self: stop blogging and get to your chapters. Right. For extra credit, participate in the California Lottery. Now that we're considering Hunter's education, money must grow on trees.

So my goals for this year are not resolutions, but goals. Objectives, if you will. Of course, the usual suspects will continue such as spending one on one time with my husband, keep a strict rule on my little chitlins, and neighborly love and all that kumbaya conundrum.

It's a new year. It's a new decade. It's a new chance to live life your way!

This is Shellie shouting, "look alive damnit, feel alive! Now fist pump everyone!" back to you Bob at the studio!

Quattro

It was mid eighties in the East end of Kauai as the sun in all it’s array lit up the ocean blue sky, the schlack of foundation gradually melting off my face. It was just as I pictured it, ocean front the serene sound of the gentle waves caressing the golden shore, champagne, and most importantly family and friends. The acoustic band played Israel’s version of Some where over the Rainbow as I walked up the aisle arm in arm with dad. There he stood waiting for me in white linen. Eyes rimmed with tears, dad hugged me one last time and handed me over to the man, in a few moments, that I would call husband. Shane mutters through his smile, “is that fake eyelashes?”


Along with the push up bra, he absolutely despises cosmetics. Every night before I went to bed he dreamily says, "your so beautiful why do you put all the crap on your face?" I am greeted more aggresively in the morning as I slap on the makeup, "I don't know why you put that shit on, you don't need it!" Little did he know that I've been hiding underneath all the makeup, as a shield from insecurity since highschool. Although he could just be saying that, to reduce the hours it took me to get ready. There I stood in the midst of paradise as my soon to be husband is fixated on my fake eyelashes and the schlack of foundation on my face. He was so astonished he forgot to point out my half-witted debacle of walking in sand in four inch heels.


Girls get whisked away in their wedding delusions of grandeur, stuck in the details like dresses, bridesmaids, flowers, photographers, and caterers. Consequently, after the five hours of celebration and a bank account with non-existent funds, one is stuck with that dude of a husband. If a female can see beyond the diamond ring, white wedding, and the house with the white picket fence, than your disappointment factor is marginal. Like a goody bag, you never know what you’ll get. Shane and I, never fought not even a whisper during our four years prior to marriage. I retract that statement, I nailed his manhood to his brain cell, once when I exploded from an unforeseen nicotine fit. Six years later and one cold turkey later, nicotine fit be gone! We have yet to have a shouting match of absurd proportions. Most definitely, that's the sound of me knocking on wood.


He’s the only man that I saw fit for forever. We were cohesive, confident in ourselves from the very beginning. We were smitten. We were tight as possums. He withstood the others by the true fact that he was a very candid person sometimes to a fault. He addressed issues that men in the pass feared to tread. He trekked the new frontier with great maturity. Bonus points, he was equipped with a sense of humor. He didn't have me at hello, but he had me soon after that. New York always grows them correct: witty, blunt, chivalrous, and far from a sucker. Besides his obsessive compulsive disorder, and his need to aggrandize everything, he was “issue” free.

A very wise person once told me, "all the things that you are so fond of, will -in turn- become an irritation."

Indeed a bold statement, but I can see how that could come to fruition. Forever is a “long” ass time! Thank god this padded cell is comfortable and cozy!

We have a lot to show for four years. Mainly, a boy and a girl. Like a stick in a spoke, riding this bike took more practice. We’ve stumbled along the way and we have scars to prove it. The kids are endless treasures, but they’ve been known to terrorize. A moment in particular, Stevie Day belted a striking sound to murder from her bassinet and Hunter chimed in with his toddler melt down. My thoughts were deafened. I look to Shane and both his hands are up like a conductor at a symphony. We burst into laughter. As we chuckled, it was that defining moment that I knew it would be okay.


On occassion, I am false eyelash friendly. He still tells me I’m beautiful at night and yells at me in the morning when I'm enhancing, he calls it tinting. All the same, we’re still happy as clams in a bucket of sand. As far as I can see, forever is not a problem. Again, the sound of my knocking wood. We’re stuck together through vows, kids, and debt. I accept it. Everyday, I’m thankful for all the beauty and goodness that surrounds us and for that I love him more. Happy four years!!!


This is Shellie waiving the white flag back to you Bob at the studio!