Two followers!?!

Say werrrtt?!

I have to give a big shout out to mah girl Megan, whose been my number one (and only) follower since the beginning of this blog...thanks for always believing in me! Ha!

I don't blog often enough.  It would be way to random, and the humor would be so odd that it would more than likely frighten people.

So with that said...here's a random thought!

Why can I never get out the door on time?  Every night while going to bed I say to myself, "Tomorrow I am going to get up so early! It will only take me 45 minutes to get ready, and than I am out the door!  I bet I will be to work so early I will be able to leave before 4!"

Hahahahahaha....oh D....your optimism and  enthusiasm is commendable, but your lazy ass will always rule.

I hit snooze five plus times, say 5 more minutes in my head, and just end up lying there thinking of all the things I should be doing.  Than when I actually do get going...I wonder to myself why I couldn't have just gotten up early.  So stupid! 

And the kicker?  I love mornings!  I feel like I am most productive in the morning, I enjoy being up early...but lord oh' lord I just love me some schleepy.

This battle has been going on my entire life. And I don't see it changing any time soon, unless my paycheck gets bigger ;)

Later Days,
DMD

Bubba is two!

Well not quite...but Saturday, my brown eyed baby boy turns two!  I am still trying to find where all that time has gone.

 

 From the moment I heard your heart beat, I was in love.  And when I met you, my love for you was so strong, I thought my heart was going to burst.  I have never known a love like that before, until you came along.  In just those first brief seconds, I saw you had your dad's eyes, your grandma's dimples, your grandpa's ears, and my feet.  I vowed in that moment in time, to forever be your fierce protector with every cell in my body, and I would do anything and everything to keep  you happy, healthy, and to make sure you never doubted how loved you were.

From the day you were born to your first birthday, you grew into this chatty, happy, and funny little boy.  You loved SpongeBob, cookies, books, and your grandpa's.  There was nothing else you would rather do than grab your baby and your nook, curl up on the couch with any of your "papa's" and read a book.  Although we have no idea what you are trying to say, but you talk to us about anything and everything.  You are eternally happy, even if you are throwing your body on the floor in a tantrum...it doesn't take long for a smile to follow.

 And now you are two!! I can't believe all the changes this year has brought.   If I thought you were a talker at one, boy were we in for a treat!  It's all chatter all the time with you.  You know exactly what you want, and you aren't afraid to ask.  With every request, there is a "peez" and "tank you."  You've got some serious rhythm kiddo!  We can turn on any song, and you are shaking what your momma gave you and fist pumping to every beat.  You also have a serious addiction to "ice keen."  You ask for it every morning.   You start to holler out, "Mom! Ice keen peez?  Ice keen! Ice keen!" whenever you see a DQ sign.

You love swimming and playing outside.  You love trucks and playing in the dirt.  When you fall, you stand right up, brush your hands off, and continue running at full speed wherever you were going.
Your Papa's are still your favorite people.  Where they are, you are not far behind...asking them to read you a book, take you outside, or tackling them.
You are one of the funniest people I know, you get it from your dad.  He can make you laugh just by making a noise, and boy does he have a lot of them.

Happy 2nd Birthday Hunter Brian Dube! 
You are my happy, funny, outgoing, brown eyed baby boy.  I love you bubba, now let's PARTY!

Finally!

Today is Patrick's last day of class..EVER.  Wow...that permanent word is oh so sweet.
He is completing his apprenticeship program, and we both have been waiting for this day for a VERY long time.

The last 5 years have been a long, LONG road.  Bumpy, yes.  Tough, yes.  Worth it, ya got damn right!  There were moments when he didn't think he could do it, didn't want to do it, and to be honest...I even questioned if we ever would see this day.  But we have! He made it.  And I am so proud of him, I really can't stop saying it.

This guy and I have been together for a very long time.  Many of you know this.  Most to all of you, do not know the struggles we have been through to get to this place.  Which is ok...every couple goes through there own shit.  We have worked hard to get here.  We have fought hard to be here.  I keep saying we, because that is what I think of us as...a we instead of a him and I.  I celebrate his graduation, as much as he does.

He has worked so hard.  Sacrificed countless nights with his son to finish.  He skipped one class, because I was in labor, but was there the very next night...sending me texts of how much he missed his family.  His dedication to get to this day has been inspiring.  He just put his head down, one day at a time, and did what he had to do.  To guarantee a better future for our family.  He is the man I always knew he could be.

I could go on and on, and bore you to death of my love for this man, but I will save that for another post :)
So tonight...mama is going to be waiting for dada to come home so we can celebrate with totty's! (Drinks pervs) Because my man did it!! And I am the proudest wife in the world!

 

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