Anudder one.

Again...far too long since my last post, but I was having trouble putting up anything valuable.  Not that I am trying to change lives here or anything, but if I would have posted every thought that came through this blonde dome of mine...you would have probably had me committed.

I have been following multiple blogs lately, trying to figure out what I want mine to be, or what category mine would fit in.  And my conclusion is...I still haven't decided on where I would like this to be.  I keep coming back to my intention of creating it...I say funny ass shit, and my family is funny and that funny ass shit needs to be shared.  My point is, I want it to be relatable.  And I think the thoughts that come into my head (not necessarily out of my mouth...thank god) aren't unique whatsoever so why not share them.  Hopefully people read, and enjoy. 

One of the first things I will need to do is post more consistently.  So I have been conjuring up a whole list of things to write about,  to keep myself entertained and hopefully you along the way.

To truly understand this blog, here is what you should probably know about me before you read this:
I'm blonde...and often have blonde moments.
I'm loud.
I love my family.  Parents, sister, grandparents...the whole fam damily.
I'm sarcastic.
I like my music loud. Really LOUD.  And I like music from Bing Crosby and Johnny Cash to AC/DC all the way to Lady GaGa and 2 Chainz.
I laugh, a lot.  Typically the goofier or lamer it is, the harder I laugh.
I have a dog, who I am obsessed with and treat like a human far too often.  Oh, and I have given him a dog voice.
I have a brown eyed toddler.  And he is THE best thing I have ever done.
I have a dark and handsome husband, We are high school sweethearts.  To say he is my best friend, is an understatement. 
I love food.  Carbs mostly.
I am competitive.  In most situations, unless it has to do with math...than I am all about handing that win to the nerds. 
I am a Dube.  That's Doo-bee.  Not Dub.  And damn proud of it.


Wow...who knew that I could be described so easily.  :)

Later Days,
DMD

Average.

I have been 27 for 12 days now...and those 3 little dots say more than I ever could in this blog. 
I know I should be grateful for every day that I am still alive, grateful for my health etc etc etc...I know all of this and I really am, but as an almost 30 year old I feel like I have the right to not like being 27.  And I don't.  So suck it. 

Today I read this blog post today, by Mama Laughlin, and was blown away.  It's me.  She wrote about me. 

I have to come to grips with my body and it's current state.  Some of it caused by pregnancy. Most of it caused by my own laziness and great talent for making up excuses.  I eat like shit, am lazy so you already know by the previous two statements that I definitely have not seen a gym or any physical activity for a long time.  Nobody wants to read the ol' "Poor me, I'm fat" sob story bullshit, because let's be honest, it's all the same, so I am not going to do that.  I am just calling out the facts.  If I see them in writing, they are real.  

I was never the best at anything, but I was good.  I was never the hottest, but I was cute.  I was never the smartest, but I was average.  I went to an average high school, got average grades, went to an average college where I maintained average grades.  I married an anything but average husband, and bought an average house in an average city.  I was accustomed to average, and  became okay with it.  My body was average, and my tumultuous love affair with being average has finally caught up with me. 

It's not the clothes anymore, it's not an awkward mirror, it's not a bad week of having an appetite like a teenage boy.  It's me.  My weight, my body, my problem. 

I haven't had my WHY moment like Mama Laughlin, but I think I am ready to get there.  I am not going to make myself promises of how or when, but I will promise that this time I will do it.  If it kills me.  If I have to change everything, I will do it.
In the back of my mind, there is a little voice saying "Danielle, here you go again.  Another diet, and another fitness kick.  This will last three weeks," (Three weeks is how long it typically takes me to be over something) to say, "Aghfuckit, drinking, eating and being lazy is not only easier, it's way more fun than eating bland chicken breasts and salads for the next 6 months."  That's fine.  Talk all the shit you want to little voice, because if there is one thing I AM great (not good, but great!) at it's talking back.  I have a smart-ass, sarcastic, sometimes asshole mouth that gets me into a lot of trouble.  So believe me when I say, I know how to talk some serious shit too. 

I have no idea how I am going to do this. But I am.  I want me back.

The whining rant of a 26 year old.

I don't know when people typically come to a cross roads in their life, but I am definitely there.  I have this overwhelming feeling everyday that this is not what I want to do, this is not what I should be doing.
Inside my little house, I couldn't be happier.  I am married to my best friend, my son is everything I could have asked for and my dog is always ecstatic to see me.  As soon as I walk out the doors of this beautiful environment I have built, my heart just sinks.
Just a warning, this is not one of my "cheeriest" posts.
I hate driving 45 minutes into work everyday, I don't feel like I am worth a shit at my job, and the even longer drive home just reaffirms the fact that I hate driving to work.
It's hard to get excited about getting up in the morning and going to work, when you feel like you could be doing so much more.  I want a job where I determine what needs to be done and how to do it.  I want to be able to go down a path and feel confident about my decision.  I feel like a secretary.  Look, I understand that most of us will always have a boss, and someone will always be telling us what to do.  But I don't like being told, "We would really like to see you take the next step."  when there is no next step!  It's simply not there.  Everyday I push back the overwhelming feeling that this position is going nowhere, and that I will end up going nowhere because of it.  I've been told a million times that there is more for me to do, but nothing ever shows up besides some more or less clerical work here and there.
I know I am only 26, but I feel like I would be worth more if I stayed at home with my son, kept my house clean, laundry done, and dinner on the table everyday.  That to me feels like an accomplishment, taking care of my family.  I feel important.
I don't know if it's the industry I am in, or the work I am doing, but I am not happy.  When I first started I loved it.  I had no idea what I was doing half the time, but I soaked it all in.  Now, it's is essentially "same shit, different day."
So my dilemma is this...what do I want to do?  I have been thinking about this a lot lately.  What do I love?  What would make me happy or fulfilled professionally? 

I love to write.
I love to make my own decisions.
I love flexibility. 
I love to be busy.
I love being successful at something.
I love getting things done on time.
I love to bullshit, crack a few jokes, than get down to business.
I love to feel important.

Real original right?

I hate thinking this way because being a Debbie Downer all the time, well, is a downer.  But the more I push these thoughts down, the more overwhelming and powerful they become.
I am just to big of a chicken to pull the trigger on any real changes.

I really hope there are others out there in this world that feel the same, or is it just my crazy brain?

Later Days,
DMD

Finally an update!

It's been way too long...so I don't even know where to start with all of the changes that have gone on in my life.

First of all Hunter finally made his grand entrance into this world 6 days late on 9/21/2011 at 6:44am.  He weighed in at 7 pounds 9 ounces and was 21.5 inches long. Labor was...well labor.  I started having contractions at noon on Tuesday the 20th, Pat came home around 3 and we were at the hospital by 530 pm.

Before we left, I gave Murphy a big hug and a kiss, and cried on his shoulder because I knew when we got home that life would never be like it was right now, just the three of us.

When we arrived I was only dilated to 2 cm, and they said if I didn't get to 3 cm within an hour I would be sent home...I looked at Pat and told him.  "We are NOT going home.  We will NOT be sent home."  So we marched up and down those hallways, me holding onto his arm, squeezing it for comfort every time a contraction came. These things were no joke.  When the nurse came back we had made our goal of 3 cm and they admitted us.  Because the hospital was full, we had to wait for 4 hours in the tiny triage room before we could get moved to a labor and delivery room...which meant I had to wait 4 hours for my epidural.  It wasn't until about 10 pm, that I received that little gift of heaven. I had gotten extremely dizzy when the IV was placed, this epidural was something I was dreading more than the labor. The epidural itself was miserable but the after effects more than made up for it.  Shortly after receiving my epidural, my blood pressure dropped into the 70's and I had quite the audience in my room asking over and over again how I was feeling.  After about 45 minutes of worrying, and a few injections of epi, it was back to normal.

Now it was time to get some rest...well for Patrick anyways.  I tossed and turned ( my upper half anyways since I could not feel anything below my chest) the whole time.  How do they expect anybody to rest when the blood pressure cuff goes off every 15 minutes?!  My water broke around 2 am and I was told I was at 7cm.  By 5 I was at a 9.  This is when Pat woke up and texted all the grandparents that they should come to the hospital because Hunter would be here soon.  I started to push with each contraction but he was still up to high to make any progress.  Also, the doctor was concerned about his heart rate as it was not fluctuating with the contractions like it was supposed to.  His heart rate was staying at about 180 which concerned the doctor.  She did not want to put him under too much stress with heart rate that high so she said that it was time to have a c-section.  Great... my biggest fear was coming true.  By this time the epidural was wearing off and I could feel everything.  I was prepped and wheeled into the operating room where I looked at the clock and it was 6:14am.  Pat wasn't with me at this time, he was changing into his operating room scrubs.  I was scared out of my mind, I wanted my husband to hold my hand and my mom to rub my head and tell me everything was going to be ok.  Pat finally came in and the doctor said they were ready to go...I looked up at Pat and told him I could feel everything.  I could feel her pinching my legs to make sure that the epidural had taken.  They kept pushing drugs through my IV, but nothing was working.  I started to panic.  All I could see were Pat's eyes and they were filled with fear.  I told him to help me, make them stop. He stood up and started yelling.  The anesthesiologist said, "Danielle, do you need to be put under?" "YES!!" I said without hesitation....and BOOM! nighty night sweetheart...that's the last thing I remember.  When I woke up  I was in the recovery room, and I  was having trouble breathing so they gave me some oxygen.  The room was incredibly quiet and the nurse was so sweet.  She said, " Your son was 7lbs 9 oz and is beautiful."  I started to cry and asked if he had lots of hair...I fell back asleep before I could hear the answer.  I woke up when they were wheeling my to my room, Pat was there waiting for me and as soon as I saw him, I bawled.  He said, "Our son is beautiful D, he's coming in here shortly."  I was still pretty groggy but when they wheeled him in I lost my breath.  There he was, my baby boy.  Hunter Brian Dube. Named after his Grandpa Brian Hunt, it's his name backwards. Also his middle name is for his Grandpa Brian Dube.

It's impossible to describe the feeling, but when I held him I felt like I had known him forever.  It's a feeling I have never known before.

The new grandparents came into the room around 10am and when I saw my mom, I cried again.  I had cried more in those past four hours than I had in a VERY long time.  My dad said to me, "You look pretty tired kiddo. So let me know when you want all of us to leave, and we'll go." My dad, forever my protector.  The hospital stay was a whirlwind, with visitors almost everyday.

We finally got to go home on Saturday the 25th.  Hunter was going home to meet his older brother Murphy!
The first few weeks at home went so fast...I know everyone says it, but it couldn't be closer to the truth! Hunter is such a good baby.  The first 6 weeks he was eating about every 3 hours and only cried when he was hungry or tired.  At about 8 weeks he started sleeping through the night!  The first 8 weeks of his life really made me realize how much of a blessing 8 hours of consecutive sleep really is.  He started smiling when he was about 8 weeks old.  His smile is so big it takes up his whole face.  He laughs at any and everything.  His dad makes him smile the biggest, Hunter smiles when he just hears Patrick's voice.  Watching those two together amaze me.  I catch myself staring at them all the time.

I went back to work on December 15th.  It was so hard.  When you spend everyday with someone for 12 straight weeks, you get pretty attached to them! I love his daycare lady so I knew he would be fine, but I sure do miss my little man during the day.

Pat and I find ourselves talking about him like we were never without him.  It feels weird to think that he has only been in our lives for a such a short period of time.  Our favorite thing to do is load up both of our boys in the car and run errands or just go for a drive.  The last month of my pregnancy Pat, Murph and I did a lot of driving around (we most always visited a DQ during some part of our impromptu trips) until we would get lost.  I love those times in the car when its quiet and all four of us are all together in this close and confined area.

Life sure has changed in the last four months.  I wouldn't change it for the world.

Later days...
DMD

Ode De' Summer

Today is August 31st...duh, you all know that.  August 31st means that summer is coming to a close. I think everyone says the same thing on this day....Where did summer go? 

To say this summer was anticipated would be quite an understatement.  I knew that at the end of summer, I would get to meet my son.  I remember looking at that plastic stick in December, saying "Holy Shit! I can't believe I have to wait until September!" And now September is tomorrow.  I crossed off each day on my calendar like it was some sort of competition waiting for this moment, and now that it is here, I am having a hard time wrapping my head around it.  Only 15 days (give or take :)) until my world changes forever. 

That's some heavy stuff, wrap your dome around that one for a minute.  Forreeevvver....Foreeeevvverrrr.....Foreeevvver (Think Sandlot)!

Looking back on the past 92 days, I still can't get over how fast they went.  I should have never wished for time to speed up, because I am pretty sure someone hit the fast forward button, and now they have put these last couple days into slow motion.  

This summer has been filled with doctor appointments, weddings, trips to the cabin, baby showers, weekends in TRF, lots of housework, swollen ankles, a whole week of vacation on the lake, aimless drives to small towns, and lots and lots of prepping for baby boy Dube. To be perfectly lame and cliche'...Summer went by way too fast.

Doesn't it always though?  You wait 9 months to begin to work on your tan, and you only get 3 short months to perfect it.  Than September comes and your tan fades away just like the green in the leaves on the trees.   The long summer days get shorter and shorter.  The nights get cooler.  The air gets crisper.  Before you know it summer fades into fall, the Vikings wrap up yet another losing season, and your stuck in traffic smack dab on 94E because of the 3rd blizzard to hit by December 15.  You purchase a tanning package to get you through the December to March, spring hits and your watching the Twins home opener on TV. April, May..and than BLAM Memorial Weekend!! Than June comes and you have every weekend booked with things to do and people to see. Pretty soon your enjoying your last few days of summer by shoving your face full of deep fried heaven on a stick at the Minnesota State Fair. 

This is my yearly dilemma.  Summer you are nothing but a giant tease! 

Hot hot hot

July has been hot.  Hot and humid.  This really bums me out because I love nothing more than sitting on my deck with an icy cold beverage, soaking up the sun and sweating my little heart out...but now with baby on board the sweating has gone to a whole new level and getting that hot makes me sick.  Boo is all I have to say.  I love hot weather.  The hotter the better, I'll take it with humidity or without.  I could lay out in the sun for hours, with the occasional trips to the house to soak up some good old fashioned air conditioning and check out my tan lines.  If I am out on the lake, even better.  Bring it on Mr. Sun.

So this summer has been a bitter sweet one for me.  I try my hardest to lay out, but my upper lip starts to sweat before I can even get my suntan lotion on (nothing higher than SPF 8 of course :)), so I am inside cooling off more than I would like to be. I am however, banking in quite a bit of sleep.  I think my body is storing it up, because it knows in just 7 short weeks, there won't be much of it happening.  That's what I tell myself to justify the fact that I could close my eyes anytime and anywhere for just 5 minutes and be out like a light.  But, many will claim I have always been like that...it's nothing but lies and fairytales!


 Two weeks ago Patrick and I went to Moondance Jam in the bright and shining city of Walker.  It was fun, but of course it was not the same.  It's amazing how self conscience I felt walking around pregnant.  Did that girl just look at me funny?  Did he just stare at my belly? What was that look for?  People would look at me as we would cross paths and then their gaze would inevitably drift down to my bump. They were either thinking "What the hell is she doing here?" or ..."what the hell is she doing here?!" I couldn't get myself to walk through a crowd, maybe because I was scared of being pushed or bumped into or maybe it was because I didn't want to deal with the eyes.  I was seriously shocked.  This was Moondance...the place was filled with gypsies, bikers, hippies, locals, local weekenders, freaks and geeks, hot moms, muscle men, groupies and wanna-be rock stars. For godsakes, there was a very large man with his face painted like Gene Simmons and giant black stars painted over his even larger man boobs!!  How could I, of all people, be getting weird looks? It just didn't make sense.  Every bit of stubborness came out of me and I said, "Eff it!" I'm a jammer after all.  I don't give a flying f what these weirdos think...I am hear to see epic shows and hang with my favorite people.  So I stiffened my upper lip, and pushed my way through the crowd.  I had to see KISS on Friday night...the show they put on was AMAZING.  I only could pick out 2 or 3 of their songs, but they threw a bad ass performance.  Fireworks, flames, lifts that took them 30 feet in the air, smashing guitars, spitting fire...it was wild.  Saturday night, we went in to see Joan Jett, and she not only looked smoking hot, so was her show!  That chick has a body that all women would kill for...and she rocked her whole show in a leather corset and leather pants...she is a bad ass bitch.  

The best part of Moondance was the fact that when my son gets older, I can tell him that his first concert was when his mom was 31 weeks pregnant.  She may not have danced as much, she may not have run around as much, she may not have stayed out as late,  but dammit she was there.

Reflections and Confessions...of a Dube.

Well, hello blog.  It's been awhile.

I have some confessing to do:
1. I am wearing size 8 flip flops today.  I normally wear a size 7-7.5.  Yes, they are too big but I have convinced myself that no one will notice.  You only notice when someone is wearing shoes that are too small because of the horrifying look of excess toe cleavage.  

2.  I am wearing my first true "maternity" shirt.  It says it on the label even, you know, just in case you FORGOT you body was expanding at an alarming rate.  I could get use to this type of wardrobe, its extremely comfortable when most of my daily living activities are not. So I will take comfort where I can get it.

3.   Lately, I am lucky if I can keep my eyes open past 7:30pm.  What happened to me?  I have always enjoyed my sleep and a good nap, but now I feel like a zombie right after dinner. I know it can all be chalked up to pregnancy and I should get my sleep in while I can...but C'MOOOON....this is getting ridiculous!   

Oofda...I feel much better now.

Last night I went to dinner with some friends, some of whom I haven't seen in quite a long time.  It was great.  We sat down in the booth and talked like we haven't been apart.  We just picked right up where we left off.  The conversations have shifted now, Where are you working? How do you like your job? Traffic sucks.  Babies. Relationships.    I loved every minute of it.  I could have stayed there for hours.  It really made me miss the days of sleepovers when everyone would stay up until the sun came up talking about everything and everyone, playing the dumbest games (Judge Judy, Light as a Feather Stiff as Board, Truth or Dare just to name some of the more embarrassing ones), turning the music way up and dancing like fools, watching movies, eating everything in the house and drinking  way too many sugary carbonated beverages.

But we have grown up now and we have come into our own lives.

As I was driving home last night, I began to think about how much I missed my friends.  I miss hanging out with these girls that I have known since I was ten years old.  Have I drifted from them? Have they drifted from me?  Is this how life is supposed to go where you bounce in and out of each others lives every couple of years, just checking in?  I don't know.  I don't know even know why I started thinking so far into this dinner date.  I am not usually an over-analyzer of things, I try to take things as is, but this drive home was different. Is this just my raging pregnancy hormones taking over?  They always come in handy for a good excuse.  Life has taken us all down different paths, but here we are almost 15 years later after meeting, sitting down and sharing story after story.  It's beautiful isn't it?  Wow, these hormones sure do make a person cheesy.

I got home around 10:30pm, the Murph-man was waiting for me at the top of the stairs with his favorite toy in his mouth, wagging his tail, eyes still glazed over from sleeping, than he and his toy made their way back to bed. I was not far behind him.  My husband was on the couch, "not sleeping" just "watching tv." Sure you were. After locking all the doors, and shutting the house down, he joined me and Murphy too.  After a long day at work, dinner with the girls, here I am surrounded by my world.  My husband, my dog, my baby boy, and my favorite piece of furniture in the house, my bed.  With Murph and my husband quickly snoring, I couldn't help but smile.  I love my life.  I love this.  I am more happy now than I ever have been.  And with a swift kick to the ribs, I think my baby boy agreed.