Hi, I'm Janelle, and this is my blog. This blog used to be my baby. This used to be where I'd come to dump, rant, complain, wonder and wander. Now, it's been dormant and quiet and completely unrelatable to me in my current life. It's an odd thing, when you seemingly outgrow your outlet. It actually feels pretty lonely. I don't know who read this on a regular basis - maybe no one. But I was here pretty often. This was where I came to process and put it all out there. I found the hilarity in my everyday, even when there was little that was actually funny, and I didn't really care if you found it funny or not. (Sorry.)
And then, life. So much life. So much change. So much busy.
And it's not like things don't happen anymore. There is plenty of funny shit in my life. Or stuff that needs processed or discussed or cussed or dumped. Trust me, I have not lost my ability to rant or complain or wander. It's not a lack of time, although that could be a valid excuse. I guess I've just lost my voice. I fell off the proverbial bike and I'm afraid to get back on. And how stupid is that? Because this was never for you, it's for me.
So yeah. I'm still here. Still awesome. Just ... wondering.
14 April 2017
25 August 2014
Me, neurotic? Whaaa?
The home stretch. The final countdown. (Duh nuh nuh nuh....) It's our last few days here in this apartment, and while I'm beyond excited to move on to the next chapter in our lives, I'd be lying if I said I weren't just a little bit freaked out.
This is the first time in a long time that I've moved out of my comfort zone. I mean, anyone else recall those tumultuous months of late 2006 and early 2007? Oye. And this time around, I can't even have a drink to calm my nerves. Though looking back, my nerves should have been waaaaaaaaay relaxed given the amounts I was imbibing and it still turned into a freaking nightmare. Oh Dubuque, how I don't miss you.
But anyway. Back to the topic at hand. And at foot. And eye level. We're moving. And I've been packing like a crazy woman. There are boxes EVERYWHERE. Not even joking. If there was free space, it is now filled with boxes. I am an expert in Uhaul packing supplies. Honorary employee, even. Nick had the nerve to be moderately upset because I'm buying boxes. I quickly quelled those concerns by telling him that buying boxes is cheaper than getting rid of bed bugs or fleas or whatever else I happen to bring home because I'm relying on the kindness and cleanliness of strangers to provide us with quality moving supplies. Plus, I'm a little OCD about many things, and boxes that match and stack ever-so-neatly are good for my nerves. It's like real-life Tetris.
The last few days before a move are stressful, I think. I'm to the point where things are going in boxes haphazardly and even though I'm the one doing the packing, it stresses me out. But I do it because I just want it done. So when we're in the new house and I'm desperately searching for dish soap, remind me that it's in the box with the baby wipes, Wii remotes, bathroom wash clothes and oatmeal bath soak. Because that just makes sense, damn it.
This is the first time in a long time that I've moved out of my comfort zone. I mean, anyone else recall those tumultuous months of late 2006 and early 2007? Oye. And this time around, I can't even have a drink to calm my nerves. Though looking back, my nerves should have been waaaaaaaaay relaxed given the amounts I was imbibing and it still turned into a freaking nightmare. Oh Dubuque, how I don't miss you.
But anyway. Back to the topic at hand. And at foot. And eye level. We're moving. And I've been packing like a crazy woman. There are boxes EVERYWHERE. Not even joking. If there was free space, it is now filled with boxes. I am an expert in Uhaul packing supplies. Honorary employee, even. Nick had the nerve to be moderately upset because I'm buying boxes. I quickly quelled those concerns by telling him that buying boxes is cheaper than getting rid of bed bugs or fleas or whatever else I happen to bring home because I'm relying on the kindness and cleanliness of strangers to provide us with quality moving supplies. Plus, I'm a little OCD about many things, and boxes that match and stack ever-so-neatly are good for my nerves. It's like real-life Tetris.
The last few days before a move are stressful, I think. I'm to the point where things are going in boxes haphazardly and even though I'm the one doing the packing, it stresses me out. But I do it because I just want it done. So when we're in the new house and I'm desperately searching for dish soap, remind me that it's in the box with the baby wipes, Wii remotes, bathroom wash clothes and oatmeal bath soak. Because that just makes sense, damn it.
20 August 2014
One of those days.
Rainy, dreary, lonely. One of those days when adult interaction would be nice but adults are a scarce commodity in my life. Just gonna have to suck it up, for the kids if nothing else, and move on.
Blah.
07 August 2014
Just keep swimming... just keep swimming...
I need to preface this post with the following statement: I trust my husband's judgement.
Most of the time.
This move requires that he be the one to view potential homes, talk to the homeowners or landlords, and make decisions that impact our entire family. It's a big responsibility.
I write this as he stands on a riverfront property in a craphole town in Illinois, which according to Wikipedia, gets most of its business traffic thanks to its booming adult entertainment business.
What the hell?!
Most of the time.
This move requires that he be the one to view potential homes, talk to the homeowners or landlords, and make decisions that impact our entire family. It's a big responsibility.
I write this as he stands on a riverfront property in a craphole town in Illinois, which according to Wikipedia, gets most of its business traffic thanks to its booming adult entertainment business.
What the hell?!
04 August 2014
Just when I thought I was out...
Seriously. Just when I thought things were getting figured out. Just when I thought three kids was manageable. Just when I thought I had school under control and getting a job might be on the horizon. Just when I thought that we'd made real progress in the money department.
BOOM.
Just when I thought I was getting it all figured out. Then you get the boom. The big "your-husband-gets-laid-off-and-goes-and-buys-a-camper-so-we-can-take-a-Black-Hills-vacation-only-to-come-home-and-find-out-he's-been-transferred-to-a-job-three-hours-away-and-has-to-live-in-the-new-camper-until-we-can-find-a-place-to-live" boom.
It was a big one. Top that off with being pregnant with Baby 4.0 (SURPRISE!), both the older boys starting school, and being two classes away from finally finishing my Master's - this summer has been absolutely freaking crazy. And it's not slowing down. Maybe that's just how life is going to be from now on; maybe freaking crazy is our normal. I'm just having trouble keeping up. Hopefully it's just a side effect of being pregnant; if it is, it's the only one I'm having so far. (Not complaining there.)
This last weekend the boys and I drove down to see Nick at the campsite he's staying in. He showed the boys the enormous job site he's on. We drove around and saw the area. And discovered that there is a serious lack of housing available down there. I guess when you have 2,500 construction workers from all over the country converging on one job site in southeast Iowa, you have to expect that housing will be hard to come by. Buying a house isn't really an option; we're not sure how long we're going to be in the area or even what part of the area we want to be in. There aren't many apartments to be found. And frankly, what was available seemed to be operated by slumlords. Yuck. So we'll continue to look. But if Nick had his way, we'd be moving at the end of the month.
Which means a lot of work for me.
Zach's birthday party is this week; his fourth birthday is Saturday. Brodie starts kindergarten on the 14th. Zach starts preschool on the 25th. I have classes starting on the 25th. Add in OB appointments, well-child check-ups, dentist appointments, school orientations - like I said, absolutely freaking crazy. But I'll survive.
(I will survive, won't I?)
BOOM.
Just when I thought I was getting it all figured out. Then you get the boom. The big "your-husband-gets-laid-off-and-goes-and-buys-a-camper-so-we-can-take-a-Black-Hills-vacation-only-to-come-home-and-find-out-he's-been-transferred-to-a-job-three-hours-away-and-has-to-live-in-the-new-camper-until-we-can-find-a-place-to-live" boom.
It was a big one. Top that off with being pregnant with Baby 4.0 (SURPRISE!), both the older boys starting school, and being two classes away from finally finishing my Master's - this summer has been absolutely freaking crazy. And it's not slowing down. Maybe that's just how life is going to be from now on; maybe freaking crazy is our normal. I'm just having trouble keeping up. Hopefully it's just a side effect of being pregnant; if it is, it's the only one I'm having so far. (Not complaining there.)
This last weekend the boys and I drove down to see Nick at the campsite he's staying in. He showed the boys the enormous job site he's on. We drove around and saw the area. And discovered that there is a serious lack of housing available down there. I guess when you have 2,500 construction workers from all over the country converging on one job site in southeast Iowa, you have to expect that housing will be hard to come by. Buying a house isn't really an option; we're not sure how long we're going to be in the area or even what part of the area we want to be in. There aren't many apartments to be found. And frankly, what was available seemed to be operated by slumlords. Yuck. So we'll continue to look. But if Nick had his way, we'd be moving at the end of the month.
Which means a lot of work for me.
Zach's birthday party is this week; his fourth birthday is Saturday. Brodie starts kindergarten on the 14th. Zach starts preschool on the 25th. I have classes starting on the 25th. Add in OB appointments, well-child check-ups, dentist appointments, school orientations - like I said, absolutely freaking crazy. But I'll survive.
(I will survive, won't I?)
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