Old married -- and loving it!!

Saturday afternoon our usually loud and busy house was eerily quiet. Kolbie was at Annie's (her best buddy), and Chris and Kate went to the movies with Austin. Greg and I... literally sat our kitchen table and ate in complete silence. Finally, we did have a conversation. It went something like this:

ME: With the kids gone, the house is so quiet.

GREG: I know. (Greg, always a man of many words.)

ME: What do you want to do?

GREG: I don't know, what do you want to do?

ME: I don't know. WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO?

GREG: Well, (he says while rubbing his chin the way he does this drives me crazy, but in a good way:), I think there's a game on ESPN.

ME: What kind of game?

GREG: Baseball.

ME: Ok, sounds good to me!!!

And off we went down into the pit of our basement and watched the World Baseball Classic, we also watched Forrest Gump during the commercials to the baseball game. Venezuela beat Italy 6-0.

OH, HOW TIMES HAVE CHANGED!!!!!!!!!!!

WHAT THE HECK HAS HAPPENED TO US? There was a time that if Greg and I were alone we wouldn't be able to keep our hands off each other, now we're content watching baseball and Forrest Gump. Let me be completely clear:

WE WERE ALONE!!!

OUR KIDS WEREN'T EVEN GOING TO BE COMING HOME SOON!!!

WE WERE ALONE!!!!

WE WERE ALONE!!!!

WE WERE ALONE!!!!

WE'RE NEVER ALONE!!!!!

I fear that Greg and I have "passed the point of no return": we are old and married. Everyone always says when they get married that they will never act like their parents, they will never reach that old and married stage. Just like everyone always say: I will never say "because I said so" to their children. Yeah, well, it happens to the best of us.

At least Greg and I can laugh about it. I mentioned it to him this afternoon and we had a good laugh. I told him that if I were to remarry I was going to marry for money, he said he would marry for looks. I know he has no money, and apparently I'm quite homely. Oh well.

Despite all this, there is something to be said about being with someone for a long time. I feel so comfortable with Greg. But that's not always a good thing, like when he holds my hair back when I throw-up, (I'm sorry but when I'm sick, I don't want anyone to touch me let alone look at me when I'm puking). I know that some people say that if a man will hold your hair back when you throw-up it true love. Um hello, have you ever seen someone throw-up? It's not pretty, and despite being homely (and being with Greg for 17 years) I would still like to THINK I'm pretty when I'm around him. Call me crazy.

I love being married, even though my husband can drive me nuts!!! I love him even though he is the weirdest person I know. These are some of the things that makes him weird:

1. He likes Nascar.

2. Not only does he like Nascar, he has a "Fantasy Nascar" team. What is that exactly?

3. He puts Velvetta Nacho cheese on his doritos. I find this completely weird and TOTALLY DISGUSTING!!!

4. He's a Dallas Cowboys fan. This does bring me some enjoyment since they haven't won a play-off game in years and this week when they cut T.O.!!!;)

5. He'll come up to me hold out his finger and say:

Feel this.

What's wrong with your finger? I ask.

Just feel. He says.

So I touch his finger and ask: what's that?

His reply: It's my finger.

6. He has James Family Jump Rope Competitions.

7. He snores like a buzz saw (which he completely denies).

8. He has started to worry about what he wears except when it comes to shoes.
(I tell him he's turning into a closet Metro, which he completely denies by the way).

9. He only yells when he's REALLY, REALLY, REALLY mad. When we fight (oh yeah, we fight) he just stops talking. THIS DRIVES ME CRAZY!!!!!! I think that (at times) it's healthy to get in a good old fashion fight. Yelling at your spouse can release frustration, but the best part is making up. ;)

10. He pays someone to cut his hair (since Jaylynn moved). Greg is almost completely bald so paying someone to cut his hair is hilarious. He just won't break down and buy hair clippers to buzz what's left of his hair (a $2 dollar Bic razor and some shaving cream would work).

11. He listens to completely weird and un-hip music! Which I have started listening to as well.

OH NO!!!!!

THE WEIRDNESS IS STARTING TO RUB-OFF!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Despite all of these weird things about Greg, I'm still in love with him. What's even more amazing is that he seems to still be in love with me, for this I am grateful.

Going to the dentist

Sorry, it's been a while since I posted anything. I haven't really had too much to say (for the first time in my life).




Tomorrow, I have to go to the dentist to have 2 cavitities filled (I have to go back in a few weeks to have 2 more filled). I HATE going to the dentist. I would rather have a baby (except for the being pregnant part, that's way worse than going to the dentist).

Anyway, I went to the dentist for the first time in a long time a couple of weeks ago, and I have 4 caviities. 4!!!!!!!!! The last time I'd been to the dentist was before Kolbie was born (she's almost 9). I truly, truly hate going to the dentist. So, I thought: "why am I paying for this stupid insurance when I know I have cavities?" So off to the dentist I went.

The dentist seemed like a nice enough guy, for a dentist. He saw how agitated I was about even being there, and he suggested that I get put under general anesthetic (sp) to get all of my teeth fixed at once. That sounded fine with me until he told me that it would cost me $300 per hour, and it wouldn't be covered by my insurance at all! What do I pay the stupid insurance company for anyway? So all my hopes and dreams of getting all my teeth fixed and clean at one time died!! Instead, I opted for taking a Valium an hour before I leave for my appointment. I hope it works, I'm about to have a heart attack just sitting here thinking about my appointment tomorrow.

So, here's my plan for tomorrow:
Step 1: Make sure that I plug my ipod in so it is charging on Thursday night.
Step 2: Pray.
Step 3: Brush me teeth really, really well every day, but especially on Friday morning.
Step 4: Pray.
Step 5: Be sure to take my ipod with me to the dentist.
Step 6: Pray.
Step 7: Take my medication 1 hour prior to my appointment.
Step 8: Pray.
Step 9: Listen to my ipod during my appointment so I don't have to listen to all that drilling.
Step 10: Pray.
Step 11: Try not to have a heart attack.
Step 12: PRAY!!!!!!

I don't think I've explained how much I hate going to the dentist. I hate everything about the dentist. The smell of the office, the smiling lady at the front desk, the smell of the office, the perky dental hygentist, the smell of the office, opening my mouth, the smell of the office, THE PAIN, and the smell of the office. I'm trying to not have a panic attack right now.

My addiction to Facebook

I just realized something, it's been over a week since I put a post on here, but I've been on my computer constantly. Why is that? I am an addict. I am addicted to Facebook. And I don't really know why.

I like to have interaction with my friends and co-workers. I like to be proactive and talk with them when I chose to. I love writing my blog, but all I feel like I do is drone on and on about something that is usually unimportant and then wait for someone to comment. On most posts I only get 1 or 2 comments, and I get so disappointed. I really don't get how people can get so many people to comment on their blogs. One blog I read is call NormalMormonHusbands and his posts generate over 100 comments. Of course his blog is much more entertaining than mine, but I don't even think my mother reads my blog. Basically I'm saying: my audience is small and my interaction with them is very limited. I love facebook because I can go online and see what my friends are doing or saying about themselves, and then I can interact with them if I chose to. And I can see so many more people. I looked up my high school graduating class, and got to read about so many people from high school. I thought this was really cool, until I realized that so many people have accomplished so much, and I have really accomplished so little in comparison. I don't recommend look up old classmates, it can get rather depressing.

So, you ask what did I do tonight? I chatted with a good friend about everything under the sun, and wasn't limited by the telephone. I could get up and tuck Kolbie into bed, use the bathroom, and brush my teeth, and it didn't interrupt my conversation at all. It was great. And when I say I talked to her all night, I really mean it. We started chatting at about 6pm and I logged of after 10 because I had to go to bed (what a joke that turned out to be, it 1:25am and I'm still not asleep)!

Greg asked me Sunday afternoon if there was a 12-step program for people who are addicted to Facebook, and "could we find a meeting or something to go to". What a funny guy. Right now, I like my little addiction to Facebook. My experience has been great (other than looking up old classmates). So keep up with Facebook, I really enjoy it. And you may also comment here too, I really enjoy that. It lets me know that someone reads my ramblings.

I Dance Like Elaine

So, last night for Valentines Day Greg and I...went to a church dance. I had a good time, but it was a little weird seeing a member of the Stake Presidency waltz to the Electric Slide.

We have some good friends from our ward that were at the dance, and it was fun. But it brought back a lot of unpleasant memories. I am not a social person, I stress out every time I'm put into a "social" setting. I ALWAYS say the first thing that pops into my head (see: I think I'll shut-up now post), and that has made for some interesting social "situations".

The biggest problem that I had on Saturday Night was: I DON'T DANCE!!!! Not around people anyway. I was the kid in dance class that was always on the back row half way off the stage for dance recitals, and I NEVER went to school dances. I do dance in my kitchen when I listening to my ipod, and I disco when my girls are dancing in the living room, but I only do that because of the reaction I get from them (Kolbie joins in, but Katie look at me like I've got lobsters crawling out my ears). The funniest thing about going to the dance last night was, Greg can't dance either. In fact, he stepped on my feet so much that they still hurt. Greg and I joked that we dance like Elaine. I don't remember what kind of party that Elaine, Jerry, Kramer, and George were at but Elaine was dancing.

George said: "Have you seen Elaine dance? It's like watching a full body dry heave."

That about sums up my dancing style. I'm too reserved and up-tight. I just can't relax in situations like that. I wish I was one of those people that could just relax and have fun, but I just can't. I'm just like my dad that way, my mom could let loose and have fun, but not my dad. I think my mom even won a dance contest she joined with my grandpa. I don't know what happened to me and my dad though, his mom (my Grandma Kate) used to tell me about when she and grandpa would put the kids to bed early then they would push all the furniture out of the way and they would dance all night. I think that sounds so fun, but Greg and I dance like Elaine, besides we would miss some sporting event on TV.

It was fun to watch our friends at the dance. I could just picture everyone as teenagers, and we still are the same people we were then. Here are some funny things I noticed:

Boys still pretend they can slam-dunk basketballs.

There is still the weird guy that dances wild-and-crazy and everyone watches, but he's having the most fun.

There is the couple that can dance really, really well. And everyone is jealous (or maybe it was just me).

There is the couple that hardly ever dances, but knows everyone and spends the entire time talking with friends.

A member of what I call "The Leadership Team" still walks around to make sure no one is making-out in the corner.

It takes about an hour before many will loosen up and go out and dance. Greg and I got there about 45 minutes late on purpose!

There's is still the person that can't dance, but tries. -- That's me. :)

One of the most interesting places to "people watch" is at a church dance. It's interesting to see who will fill what role.

I would go to dance lessons if the ward or stake had them, but yoga class would be safer for everyone involved. :)

I need some advice

I know that I tend to be overly serious, but I need some help.

I'm a Mother. I have the three best kids in the world. They amaze me, and scare me. Last night Chris (he's 13) started asking questions. TOUGH QUESTIONS!!! Questions that don't have easy answers.

I don't think questions are bad. Accepting answers, that's hard. During our discussion with Chris yesterday, he cried. At first this bothered Greg, but it just makes me love Chris more. He is very genuine. He has a very tender heart.

How do I help Chris understand that everyone sins? How do I help him understand that because we all sin, we are all more alike than different? How do I help him understand that when God looks at his children, he doesn't see all our faults, but sees all our potential? How do I help a child understand principles that I don't really grasp myself?

I openly admit that I have had (and am currently experiencing) a trial of faith. I seem to have more questions than answers these days. I can tell that Greg is frustrated, and I fear that my stubbornness is hurting my children. Maybe my ignorance is what's really the problem. Why didn't I prepare for the day when my kids ask questions with impossible answers? I knew this day would come, and I feel so unprepared!

I think I'll shut-up now

Anyone who has known me for any amount of time (like a second and a half) knows that I can be very outspoken and opinionated. I also have an amazing ability to stick my foot in my mouth. I have some stories that would curl your hair!

There was the time when Greg and I were eating dinner with his parents (about 2 weeks before our wedding) and I quoted a line from The Christmas Story. Ralphie's dad had just gotten his "major prize" and Ralphie was saying how much he loved that lamp. "It was electric sex glowing in the window." I will NEVER forget the look on Sharron's face. EVER!

Then today, I went to lunch with a friend from work. We were talking about the big Michael Phelps scandal.

Please keep in mind this simple equation: Jill + sports + opinion = DISASTER!!

JILL: Did you hear about Michael Phelps?

FRIEND: Yeah, I can't believe it.

JILL: It didn't surprise me.

SIDEBAR: Anyone, and I mean ANYONE that is continually told how wonderful they are will eventually fall on their face. HARD! That kid has been set up for disaster for years! Guess what? Michael Phelps made a bad choice. We all do. He just had the privilege to screw up in front of the whole world. I feel bad for him.

FRIEND: What do you mean?

JILL: Well, you know he was arrested for drunk driving when he was 19 right?

FRIEND: Yeah, I know that. But, I was arrested for drunk driving too. That doesn't make him a bad person.

CRAP!!!!

That is not what I meant, but looking back I can see where she's coming from. I am an idiot!

I also recently told a friend that I thought she was weird because she liked being pregnant. Then I told her that she shouldn't worry about what I think about her. Again, not what I meant. The problem is this friend doesn't really know me well enough to know that I tend to speak and then engage my brain. Sorry--you know who you are.

To be honest, more than one person has been offended beyond repair because of my big fat mouth, and I feel like I've suffered because I don't have these friends.

Greg has learned to deal with my "problem" very well over the years. He doesn't even act embarrassed anymore (most of the time), and frequently he doesn't even say anything to me. He already knows how crappy I feel because I usually figure out that I've screwed up on my own. After all this time, Greg usually just laughs, shakes his head and walks away. He's a very good sport about everything, unless I really out-do myself. The thing that amazes me about what a great sport he is, is the fact that I really don't try very hard to censor myself when I'm around family (his or mine). I think I like the shock factor.

This character trait is something that I think is funny or quirky in other people, but I HATE IT ABOUT MYSELF!!! I also thought that I would grow out of it as I got older. Boy, was I wrong!! The older I get the worse it is. If things don't change soon, I'm going to be a lonely old woman with a lot of cats. Maybe age = honesty?

STORY: At work, I was given the responsibility to improve our break room. I spent so much time measuring, and thinking and trying to come up with ideas to make things better. Finally, 2 days before I was scheduled to make all the changes I was talking to one of my bosses and said I needed to get Greg in to look at things to give me some ideas. In my defense: Greg is very good at that kind of thing and could help me figure things out. Well, I went on to say and I quote: "...I just need the brain of a boy to help me figure this out..." My boss, his name is Dave.

Like I said, I think I'll shut-up now.

Mom Jeans

Today, Greg and I spent out day remodeling Katie's bedroom. Several years ago we had a flood and are now fixing up the room for Katie. I'll post pictures later.

Well, we got up this morning and I decided that I didn't want to wear my good jeans to do home improvements. So I pulled out my pair of retired jeans that I only wear when I when I do home improvements. I put them and one of Greg's famous Monster Truck T-Shirts, old shoes and was ready to go. I happen to glance in the mirror and was HORRIFIED!!! I was wearing "Mom Jeans"!!!

You know what Mom Jeans are. They're high-waisted (so high waisted that the waist band almost touches your bra strap), they have tapered legs, are a disgusting color, are baggy and loose (you buy jeans like this because you THINK they make you look thinner, but they only make it look like your wearing a denim tent), the back pockets are so high on the back, your butt looks just pain scary.

I was wearing "Mom Jeans", I also call them: My I Don't Care Anymore Jeans. I am not a fashion expert, but I am trying a lot harder than I used to. I wouldn't buy Mom jeans now if my life depended on it. I did go through a period of my adult life that I just didn't care what I wore. I blamed this stage on having small children (that was part of it) but I could have tried harder.

So, today I had my "Mom Jeans" on (I have to add that they are much looser than they used to be YIPPEE!!) but I was just going to do home improvements, I don't want to ruin my "good jeans", so off to work I went. I spent the day sawing, hammering, and do all kinds of fun things. Then Greg announces: "We have to go to Lowe's, grab your coat." So I did, and out the door I went. It might be useful to add that I hadn't really brushed my hair, I didn't have any make-up on, (I had brushed my teeth, it's just gross not to), and don't forget the jeans and monster truck t-shirt.

Greg and I got to Lowe's and as usual, I went wandering off to look at all the cool stuff when Greg got to figure out how to run a phone line down to Katies new room. I was back looking at sliding-glass doors and around the corner came a couple. The woman looked so beautiful! Her hair was done, her make-up on, she didn't have on mom jeans. Not one hair out of place! I was thinking how cute she looked, then she gave me the weirdest look. You know that look. The "you've spilled spaghetti sauce on your shirt and you don't even know it look". I glanced down, and remembered (much to my embarrassment) that I was wearing my Mom Jeans! I didn't know this woman, I'm just grateful that I didn't run into an old boyfriend or someone I knew in high-school (I usually do when I look that crappy). I decided that I don't really care enough about how I look. But I'm going to leave in a few minutes to take Kolbie to the movies, I have showered and washed my hair, I'm NOT wearing my Mom Jeans or a monster truck t-shirt, but I'm only wearing mascara. Maybe I'm just getting old!!!

P.S. My nice jeans are not from The Brittany Spears or Paris Hilton school of thought. A woman reaches a certain age when she shouldn't be wearing super low waisted jeans. I freely admit that I have reached that age. But, I don't look like I'm wearing a denim tent either!!

Gotta run, we're going to be late for Twilight!