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andygirl13-blog · 10 years ago

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So Yeah, I Have a Kid

"I don't want you to be a mama's boy. I want you to have your own dreams, passions, and way of thinking. I want the woman you marry to be who YOU want... and I want you to love her for who she is. Accept her flaws and learn to laugh at yourself for loving the silly things about her. Tell her she's beautiful. Tell her that every day. Never forget how important she is to you and why you married her in the first place. If you hate her cooking, lie. Remember to say thank you for the little things. It goes a LONG way. Don't be afraid to be romantic. NEVER STOP being romantic. Go on date nights. Open her door. Walk street side. Most importantly, NEVER compare her to me. I don't want you to be a mama's boy. I want you to be a husband."

I'll back up. A year ago I celebrated my very first anniversary with my husband, Brian. It was super important to me that we have a year to ourselves without putting a child in the mix, mainly because I had never lived with him prior to us getting married. We still needed to learn each other. Every day has proven to be a blessing (sometimes in disguise). And although we've struggled during that infamous first year of marriage hell, I can tell you one thing. I wouldn't want to fight with anyone else. He isn't my soul mate, but he's my earth mate. The person I CHOSE to spend the rest of my life with. Seeing him with my son has solidified my decision. He is the best father to our little guy, and for that I am eternally grateful.

"As I sit here looking at you sleep across the room in your Mamaroo, a swing that can only be compared to something directly out of The Jetsons (I'll fill you in on that cartoon when you're older), I can't believe that just a year ago you were a twinkle in God's eye. What did I ever do before you came along? I know there was wine and a lot of beer. I vaguely remember the gym, recipe sharing, and reading. I loved my life. I reported to no one and my biggest responsibility was getting dinner on the table. Not totally unlike college except that I now knew how to boil water. No joke. Then, all of a sudden, you were here. You were here making me throw up daily and kicking me as hard as you could in my ribs. I could see you moving inside of me and there were days when I swore you were trying to punch your way out through my belly button. I couldn't WAIT to meet you."

Around our year anniversary, Brian and I decided that we wanted a baby. Literally, the very first try and we were expecting. I couldn't believe it. I filmed his reaction because I knew it would be awesome. It was. His exact words, "SHUT UP." The roller coaster had just left the gate and we were committed to the loopty loops, twists, turns, and abrupt stops. I was pregnant. And I'd never been more scared. In a nutshell, I hated being pregnant. I truly did. We have friends who had absolutely wonderful pregnancies and never felt so healthy or better in their lives. I felt like garbage. Every day was nausea central and the heartburn was so bad that I slept completely upright most nights towards the end like a vampire. The coolest thing about being pregnant was seeing him move around. I thought I'd be weirded out by that whole experience but it actually made the whole process more real. Like, "OMG THERE YOU ARE!" kind of a thing. I actually didn't mind so much when people touched my belly. I felt comforted. In hindsight, it wasn't me who felt the comfort of outside hands, it was my child. He seemed to "settle" when that happened. Crazy how things can change like that.

"You don't remember your first day on this earth, but I do. I remember looking at you, absolutely astonished. You made it... and you were looking at me. Perfect little round head, as all c-section babies have, and big blue eyes that seemed to say, "What the HECK just happened!?" I felt like I was looking in the mirror. You actually looked like me. I could see me in you. And then I cried. It was the best moment of my entire life. You were here, and you were mine. "

We didn't find out what we were having. I had a feeling that there was a little boy in there because of the sheer length. I also figured from the ultrasound pictures that it was either a boy... or a girl with the world's largest feet. If that had been the case, we would have been signing him up for the Bloomsburg Fair. I kid, I kid. I DID take a gamble with the room. All blue. If he had been a girl, I was going to add some ribbons here and there. I had this plan, you see. Brian was going to tell me in delivery what the gender was. It was the way I'd always imagined it to be. During labor, I kept envisioning what that moment would be like. Brian looking into my eyes and telling me if we had a boy or a girl. That's the last time I ever make a plan. After a significant drop in the baby's heart rate, we were rushed into the operating room for a cesarean section. I remember feeling like I was going to throw up and then I heard crying. I evidently asked Brian if the child I heard crying was in fact mine, and asked him about 35 times if we had a boy. (Anesthesia can really screw with your brain). Once I came around and realized what had just happened, I saw it. IT was no longer an "it". It was OUR BABY. Our BOY!

"You will have a few serious relationships in your life. When they end, a part of you will too. You will not love anyone the way you loved your first girlfriend. It's supposed to be like that. Every time you fall in love, it's different. If it were the same, you'd never find HER. The person that God made for YOU."

I remember the first time I fell in love with Brian... I mean REALLY fell in love with him. We had been saying the words for months and I DID love him, but there was one time in particular that hit me like a piano falling from the sky. It was winter, and Brian had made the two hour commute from his house to see me. It snowed the entire weekend. I was upstairs and I saw him put on his winter coat and follow my dad outside with a shovel. I didn't fall in love with my future husband... I fell in love with the future father of my children. That day, that cold winter day, the blank face on the tuxedo was filled. I knew it was him.

"I can't believe how much I love you. I honestly cannot believe how much I just totally love you. When you smile, my entire heart breaks in the most amazing way and I want to cry when I kiss your little button nose. You're perfect. I love when you giggle when I sing "Sunrise" by Norah Jones, and I know it's because I would sing that to you every day before you got here. You actually remember that. Someday I'll tell you why I chose that song to be your lullaby, but know that for now it's just for us. It's our song."

I said that when I found out I was pregnant that it was the scariest moment of my life. Well it WAS, until we left the hospital. What was I supposed to do with this little creature? Am I actually a mom.... like a MOTHER!? I have a whole kid here. OMG. Yeah I think the first thing I did when I came home was cry. I cried for days. It wasn't post partum depression. It was more of a omg-I-have-a-child-what-if-I-screw-him-up sort of feeling. Yes, babies eat, pee, poop, cry and sleep. That is literally all they do for the first few weeks. But this was MY kid. MY eating, peeing, pooping, crying, sleeping child. What if I did it wrong? Well I did. I did it all wrong. Some of it was right, but a lot of it was wrong. I've forgotten to cover his little general so many times I think there are permanent tinkle stains on his wall. I've fed him too much and watched him spit entire bottles of formula down my shirt. I called the pediatrician when I saw something that can only be described as an army green mass in his diaper. I've poked him just to see him do the "startle reflex" because I think it's funny. Ugh. Am I the worst mother in the world? Nope. But I sure as shit am not the best ;)

"I promise to love you unconditionally. I'll protect you from the world for now. Your name and picture will never be on the internet until you are the one who puts it there. You won't leave my sight on the playground, and when Daddy teaches you to ride a two wheeler without training wheels, I'll bandage your knees when you fall. I'll jump in puddles with you, take pictures of you trick or treating with Daddy, and support your every dream. If you want to become a doctor, an engineer, a lawyer, a botanist, an architect, or a paleontologist, or all of the above, I'll help you make it happen. I want you to be a dreamer, and I want you to follow through on those dreams. The world can be an evil place, but you can make it better. It's not all evil. After all, God created it. On that note, it's important that you find the good in things. Look for the good in people who upset you. If you see someone getting bullied, stick up for them. Accept everyone. Diversity is good. The world would be ridiculously boring if we were all the same. There is no better feeling than love."

So here we are 2.5 months in. I'm watching our little dude sleep and texting Brian countless pictures while he is at work. I don't want to forget anything. I love everything he does. I want to remember the way he looks when he's smiling at his angels. We've experienced several wonderful miracles in our family and I can tell when someone is visiting him. He is very blessed. Sometimes I ask him to tell them I say 'what's up'. There's no telling what the future will bring for our little family, but I leave it in God's hands. I can think of no better place for us to be.

"Take your family to church. It is important that you attend as a family and praise the Lord together. Do not forget to pray. Some of the hardest times in my life have been comforted through prayer. God always listens to you, especially when others can't. It is through HIM that you will ultimately love yourself, which is where you need to begin before you can give that love to someone else. When you learn to do that, love without condition. Never restrict yourself from the good feelings. They are good because they come from Christ. And when you find your earth mate, make sure she's a daddy's girl."

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andygirl13-blog · 12 years ago

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Pepe le Pew Strikes Again

I haven't gone to sleep yet (insomnia doesn't even begin to describe it), and around 4:30 AM, Sophie needs to go outside, so I stand on the porch and about two minutes later, I hear a scuffle. She is thrashing around and whimpering. A wretched skunk got her again. Yellow muck all over her poor little face and neck. I FREAK out and while I am on the phone with my mom, Sophie jumps onto the couch. Wonderful. Meanwhile, after I get a good look at this oily substance, I notice that it is actually DRIPPING off of her face. Luckily, since this has unfortunately happened before, I am able to give her a bath in anti-skunk shampoo. There is one spot on her face that still smells at this point, but I decide I can deal with that given the fact that the ENTIRE HOUSE reeks to high heaven (How does it get everywhere???). In the midst of all of this commotion, I am also trying to cook Brian breakfast and get him ready for work (Sophie gets a piece of bacon since I feel so sorry for her). I have never moved so fast in my entire life (Todd, my trainer would be proud). Since we're house-sitting for my parents, our clothes are all over the downstairs. I quickly move them to the guest room and shut the door to get them away from the smell. Since this HAS happened before, I remember that it took weeks, actually months, to get the smell entirely out of my clothes.

Back to the story. It's about 6:00 AM at this point, and I plug in the iron. I am almost done moving all of our clothes upstairs and have Sophie bundled up in like, 12 towels when all of a sudden I hear a 'sizzling' sound. Sophie hears it too because her ears perk up and she looks over toward the window. My iron is actually smoking and some kind of mysterious liquid is boiling underneath it... totally forgot it was on (Mirror, mirror on the wall...I am my mother after all). I unplug the iron and notice a hoodie that I missed in my mad frenzy hanging on a kitchen chair amid the skunk stink. At this point, I'm so pissed off that I just take the hoodie and fling it across the room with all my might. Well, "all my might" is apparently very feeble (Sorry Todd), because that hoodie lands on a table and knocks over a lamp. Great start to my day. They say that bad things come in three's. Not even close. They come in SETS of three's.

Round two with the iron goes smoothly except for the fact that the ironing board is standing directly next to the couch which is now covered in skunk spray. I quickly iron Brian's pants, open a few windows (even though outside is still quite pungent), and begin my online search for 'home remedies to rid your home of skunk smell'. I use the remainder of baking soda I find in a big box in the garage to cover the carpet, blow out the candles I had previously lit, put bowls of vinegar around the house to try and absorb the smell, gather a list of things I need, stick Brian in the car and drive him to work at the hospital. Keep in mind that this is his fourth day of work, and he is still in orientation. Not five minutes after I drop him off, I get the following text from him:

I smell like skunk apparently :( Can you bring me a sandwich, apple, drink, etc. for my lunch? Oh, and bring my ID badge!!! Around noon.

This is the last thing I want to do today but he's been so nice about this all day that I don't get upset. My focus is on ridding the house of this horrid odor and somehow finding a way to get it out of my clothes. Did I mention this has happened before?

Like a bat out of hell, I drive to Walmart to buy the necessary items for skunk smell removal. I'm a little concerned that I may smell like Pepe le Pew, but not too fretful since I've been smelling it since 4:30 AM. My goal is just to get in and out as quickly as possible. I grab a cart and pull... nothing. It's stuck to the cart in front of it, as is the one next to that. They aren't tied together, just stuck, and I am evidently too weak to remove them (Sorry Todd). I see a man grab a cart from the FRONT of the stack, so I go for that end instead. Same. Thing. Happens. I really don't care except that I look like an idiot and I'm afraid someone will try to come over and help me. My mistake. This is Walmart... no one ever bothers to help you there. (I will probably end up on stupidvideos.com, however, as Girl who Fights With Cart). Finally, I free a cart and it of course has the squeaky, wobbly wheel. Why wouldn't it? I immediately see a jumbo jug of vinegar in the Easter section so I snag that baby and make a mad dash to the pet section. There is a female worker walking in my direction. She thinks she's hot. She's not, but she thinks so, and doesn't move to the side when we approach each other. She actually walks as close to my cart as possible without hitting it and I run into a stand in the middle of the aisle. I hope she got a really good whiff of Pepe. By this point, I'm very aware of my squeaky wheel and two workers are in the pet section pricing items so I decide to ask them if they have skunk removal shampoo for dogs.

Side note: I really do not need any help in finding this, since there are about 5 dog shampoos total that Walmart has to offer. But I HAVE to say something. Do you ever feel so insecure about something physically that you have to point out whatever it is you think that everyone else can notice? I have to. Always.

Anywho, after the senseless babble of me asking and them telling me NO, I move onto the next aisle. I hear them as I walk away talking about skunks under someone's deck. I gather 6 medium boxes of baking soda (because heaven forbid they sell large ones), Dawn soap (the blue kind), Pet Fresh carpet cleaner, 4 jars of odor absorbing gel, air freshener, and hydrogen peroxide. I am wheeling my way around the store like I'm on Supermarket Sweep. The items in my cart look like I'm planning a wicked April Fool's joke. I of course tell the woman at the checkout line about my ordeal and she's laughing so hard I think snot is going to come out of her nose. At least she's nice. She said she couldn't smell it. Liar.

I get into the car and drive home. Thankfully, nothing happens during this period, until I get home. I see my neighbor across the street with his new dog, so I get out to meet the pup. I tell my neighbor about poor Sophie and he says he smelled skunk this morning and wishes me luck on ridding the house of the ick. I walk inside... DUN DUN DUN. The entire place smells like a mix of skunk and vinegar and it's FREEZING. I'm tired but I begin the treatment of baking soda and odor absorbing gels. I'm hesitant to light the candles because the windows are open. After about 20 minutes, my eyes are actually BURNING and my fingertips are bright white and in pain. Oh yeah, I have Raynaud's Phenomenon. Google it.

At 9:40 (It's only 9:40!?), I get the following text from Brian:

Did you find my badge babe?

YES

Cool... my lunch is scheduled for 12:00 - 12:30 pm. Make something for yourself and we can eat together. I don't want to go to the cafe with the skunk smell on me.

Awesome. So I could potentially be meeting some of his coworkers in passing looking like a crazed maniac and smelling like burnt rubber. I sit down in despair and look out the window. What do I see? Snow. It's freaking SNOWING and I've got every window in the house open. There is bird on the birdbath trying to drink water that has completely frozen over. Furthermore, my exhaustion is catching up with me to the point where I'm experiencing minor hallucinations in the forms of furry rodents. I'm losing-my-mind. I see another hallucination. No wait... this is really happening. The skin on top of both of my hands is actually cracking and one of them is bleeding. I am typically religious about using hand lotion after I wash my hands, so naturally, I blame the skunk shampoo. Scratch that. I blame the skunk. I swear to Pete, if I see that skunk I'm going to kick it's ass and turn it into a hat. You know, like Velda Plendor did on Troop Beverly Hills. 1989. What goes better with Hobos than wine? What?

Lately, my neck has been bothering me. I was diagnosed with a herniated disc in my C4-C5 level in 2009. Every once in awhile, it acts up. Today it is... of course, because this is the greatest day ever and all. I decide to put on my neck brace to finish the fumigation process. It REEKS of skunk. AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH. I can't stop sneezing. The combination of skunk, vinegar, baking soda, and air freshener is messing with my sinuses like crazy and it occurs to me that this is probably not good for Sophie either. I have nowhere to put her though. The smell is not just on her mouth anymore. It's back and EVERYWHERE. The oil/fumes/shit must be in the air itself because it's now all in her hair. I can't take this. The skunk is winning every round on every level.

Time to make Brian's lunch. I reach my hand in to take a sandwich bag out of the box and every single bag comes flying out, scattering the counter and floor. Should have seen that one coming. As I'm walking out the door, I decide to bring air freshener because anywhere that I go, the smell goes. In my hands, I have Brian's lunch, my keys, my purse, two bottles of water, and the can of air freshener... except the air freshener is in the crook of my arm and somehow, opening the door must trigger the nozzle, which releases a steady stream of freshener directly into my mouth. The last time I gagged so hard was when I saw the video of that monkey eating its own vomit.

I really, really, really just want to break down and cry but I don't. I am very careful to obey the speed limit as I'm driving to see Brian. I need a ticket like I need a hole in the head. Of course I get to the end of the neighborhood and realize I've left his water back at the house. Second try, remembered it. He was a bit late getting out for lunch, so I decide to apply another layer of lotion to my hands. Reaching my hand into my purse, I feel nothing but slime. Yup... you guessed it. My lotion has now spilled into the whole purse and is covering everything from paper money to credit cards, to my makeup. I've totally given up. I text Brian and tell him where I'm parked and that I am going to lay down on Sophie's bed which is in the back of the car (seats are up). I am able to rest for about 30 seconds before I start dreaming about horrible things. The furry rodents are back and they are talking. Give me another bottle of Evian.

Brian gets to the car and we eat our lunch. He tells me that every single person who came into the room that morning made the observation that the room smelled like skunk, including an instructor who said that the entire building smelled of it.... um... whoops? He walks back to his building and I see him in my rear-view mirror as I'm driving away. He is flailing his arms wildly. Like that is going to do shit. Nice try babe. This shiz is here for the long haul.

I get several things at the pet store on my way to our apartment. Skunk remover and a bone for poor Soph. I turn the heat up at the apartment because Brian tells me he will be staying there tonight. When I get back to the house, Sophie is excited to see me but will hardly look at me. I actually think she's embarrassed. These looks she has been giving me are priceless. She's none too happy when I spray a mixture of vinegar and water up her nose. She refuses to drink anything so I've been shooting water into the back of her throat with a turkey baster. Badges? We don't need no stinking badges. I'm improvising. She doesn't want the hambone either. I swear I'm so delirious at this point words like "water" don't look they are spelled correctly. I'd rather be in a room with the Pagans MC. At least the beer would still smell like beer.

Fast forward to 4:22 PM. I'm on the phone with a friend still trying my best to use up all of the skunk eliminator when I realize I've forgotten about my husband. I am supposed to pick him up at 4:30. Hurriedly, I race to get him (pretty sure I'm swerving all over the road at this point). He gets in the car and tells me he has earned himself a new nickname at work, but the people are deliberating whether it should be "Pepe" or "Stinker". Some girl told him they should paint a white stripe down the back of his leather jacket. Nothing like making a good first impression.

Sophie FINALLY eats food on her own (I'm guessing because Brian feeds her and she will do anything he tells her to). She looks at me like I've lost my mind when I tell her it's time for another bath. The bath goes as planned, with my new concoction of hydrogen peroxide, baking soda, and Dawn, not to mention two separate types of skunk shampoo. Never in a thousand years did I think I'd ever have to give my dog a sponge bath. The chemicals are going into the cracks in my hands, which have now spread to my palms. It stings but I power through, determined to finish this day in success. It's close to dinner time and I think about reheating tacos from last night. It's a good thought, it really is. I am dreaming about them as I pass out on the couch. It is there that I sleep for several hours, finally at peace... until 11:30 PM, when I wake up and Sophie needs to be let out. Shit. This wasn't all a dream. My skin is now cracked up to my knuckles, despite the fact that I put practically half a bottle of lotion on each hand after they got wet. I hate today. Why couldn't I have woken up after midnight?

I venture outside in the freezing cold with Sophie, who is looking cautiously at the trees behind the house. I feel like this entire day has been something out of a sitcom. I honestly can't believe how this day began or the events that happened. I find it sad that I haven't embellished one bit in my description of today. My parents are so lucky. Venturing all around Florida while we are dealing with this crap. I wonder how many times today I have spoken, written, or thought about the word 'skunk'. My guess is close to 723. It really frosts my cookies that this entire day has been basically one big waste, and that my windows are all still open. I can't take it. I shut all of them. We are now sitting in the skunk house which looks like someone came in with a snow machine and coated the floors and furniture with fake powder. The fumes are horrendous, and just masking the smell of both skunk and vinegar. I feel crazy...CRAZY. I guess I'll eat a taco.

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THE SAGA CONTINUES: If you thought the skunk fiasco was over, you'd be wrong. Today I wake up at 6:51 (1 hour and 51 minutes after my alarm supposedly went off). Although I could have used several more hours of sleep, I am happy to be awake seeing as how I had a nightmare about a "ghost skunk"... not even kidding. It was horrible. I bolt awake, screaming for Brian to get up. He still has to shave, shower, eat breakfast, etc. In a mad scramble, I somehow manage to pound through the stink of skunk and vinegar which has infiltrated the house (I swear it's become a foggy haze with the closed windows), cook breakfast, let Sophie out, and spread yet another layer of baking soda throughout the house. It is still semi-dark out and I have to tinkle so I sit on the toilet. I look outside. WHAT!? Omg I've just peed in front of an open window! I quickly shut the blinds. Well, thankfully it's not trash day. We leave on time just after I open the windows yet again. I feel like I'm on top of things today. That has to be a good sign, right? On the way to drop Brian off at work, I take a shortcut and beat an entire line of traffic. Now, I'm CERTAIN I am going to have better luck. I'm thinking I should have a coffee or something before I make my way to Lowe's, so I stop at McDonald's and get breeaaakkffaaasssttt buuuurrriiiitttoooos, hold the chives, and a coffee. It is not until I'm halfway through the coffee that I realize it was made black. (I hate black coffee and usually take it with a lot of milk or cream and a TON of sugar). Still, I am pleased to have caffeine and consider there to be worse things that could have happened with that meal.

I get to Lowe's and ask someone where they keep their carpet cleaner specifically for skunks (My mother swears up and down that she got this product there). Three people look at me as though I haven't got one brain cell on which to function, and tell me that they don't sell anything like that, and that they never have. Hmm. I tell them that it says For Skunk Odor on the front of the can and there is a picture of a skunk on it. Blank Stares. Whatevs, I purchase three bottles of Febreze...

there's always Home Depot. I have to say that the customer service at Home Depot was definitely better. Someone actually walked me over to the carpet cleaner section and went through all the products with me looking for something that may help with the odor. I settled for Odo-Ban. Update on that later. I go through my normal routine of telling everyone in sight including two cashiers about why I smell the way I do. There is 5-hour energy at the counter so I pick up a bottle. The cashier asks me if it works and I tell her that I have to believe it does for my own sanity. In the past 48 hours, I've slept about a total of 7 hours respectively. As if the attractive bags under my eyes aren't a dead giveaway.

Here's where my day really starts to get interesting. I drive to Walmart because I need more baking soda. I have to go there anyway because Brian needs more deodorant. It is at this point, I realize I forgot to apply deodorant to myself today. Shucks.

Side Note: Whenever I say "Shucks", I am reminded of when I was little and my dad and I used to sit on the back step shucking corn on the cob for dinner. Every time he'd peel down the husk, he'd say "AWW SHUCKS!"

In any case, I'm fairly certain that the smell of skunk out-powers the smell of body odor, and at this point I really don't give a hoot. I make my way into Walmart and of course I am stuck behind an elderly lady. She was super cute and talking to herself which made her even cuter, however, I'm in a hurry to get the hell out of there and there is no way around her with my cart. I get into the cleaning aisle and browse the section with the air fresheners again. I pick up a few more odor-absorbing gels, baking soda, and some trash bags (the waste basket kind - the trash bags are of no relevance to this story). I hear another lady (I'm assuming in the next aisle) tell someone she is with that it smells like skunk. Haha. It's ME! There is a lady in front of me in the checkout line who looks extremely familiar and I recognize her as a woman who used to sing karaoke at a bar I used to frequent. I am finding hilarity in everything by now, so I chalk this up to 'just my luck' in case she recognizes me too. She does. YAAAYYY. The cashier promptly says to me, "You're back!" Yes, yes I am. I update her on my saga and I can tell she feels very sorry for me. I'll take any form of pity in this moment as I have thrown the party for myself for over 24 hours. She proceeds to tell me all about how she used to have a pet skunk named Stinky who was a "great pet" with his 'stinker' removed. She had him for one month until the neighbor's terrier killed it by shaking it profusely until there was no life left. The F*#%??? I squeak away with my cart. They must all have wheels like this.

I make it home and realize I've forgotten Brian's deodorant.

Walking into my parents house is like walking into a sand storm. It's foggy, your eyes sting, and you know that no matter how hard you try to get every grain of sand gone, some WILL remain. It's a daunting feat but I am determined to get it done. I decide to take a picture of the items I bought today:

I make my way upstairs to open up some more windows and by the time I get downstairs, Sophie is laying ON THE SKUNK COUCH!!!!!!!!!! - nooooo dude. Just no. Her belly now wreaks of skunk of course, and I make her come outside with me. I run her all over the backyard. After we come inside, she's out of sight for 30 seconds and I find her up on my parents bed. Seriously. I will never do this much laundry in such a short time again (That is unless Pepe returns for a recurring visit). The wind keeps blowing a door open and closed and this scares her enough that she'd rather be outside. I stick her on the porch and leave the door open. My coat is now in the washer with detergent and vinegar and I've put the couch cushion outside to get fresh air and be in the 'sun'. It's a super cloudy day but I figure it can't hurt.

Look, a squirrel.

When my coat is finished in the wash, I move it to the dryer where I stick it in with several other items that I washed last night. After an hour of working inside, I no longer hear the dryer going so I check on my clothes. They are soaking wet. I never turned the dryer on. Wait, what? What the hell did I hear? Maybe voices in my head.

Here is a message from my cousin's, cousin's husband, Elmer: Silver Lining. You know, with the house smelling the way it does, now is the perfect time to pass gas without being detected. Get it all out Sometimes it pays to think like a boy. LOL

I concur

I hear that coffee grinds are supposed to soak up foul odors and so I place plates of this throughout the house. I notice several stink bugs as I am doing this... gross. My mother has a remedy for these buggers so I'm finding it odd to see any. I make my way around with the coffee and when I enter the dining room I see it. Both windows in there do not have the screens pulled down. There are stink bugs lining the windows. Since the universe hates me, I guess I missed the fact that the screens weren't there when I opened the windows this morning. I'm furiously batting the bugs out the window because I can't kill anything and speaking in tongues. Anyone that saw me right now would think I've lost it. Apparently, I have.

So I'm on the phone with my friend and I get a little sidetracked. I go to check on my towels in the washer and realize I never put them in. Mind you, it's on super load, heavy. This could take awhile. It does. After diluting yet another carpet cleaning solvent with water, I spray the entire house and somehow manage to lose the spray bottle. Brian has decided to visit his grandparents this weekend leaving me and poor Sophie in the skunk house by ourselves. I've decided by this point that I am in dire need of some alcohol and make plans with my friend to go to the bar. Since I haven't gotten much sleep, the beer hits me hard and fast. Here is what I remember:

- A man showing us a video of his ex wife making out with her lesbian lover

- Dancing like a fool at Social Lounge

- Talking about skunk and forcing people to smell my hair

- A woman in line to the bathroom announcing that it smelled like skunk

- Buddy's Burgers

Thankfully, I have good friends who drive me to and from the bar in my hour of need. I wake up with a headache but I'm pretty astonished that I had enough sense to close all the windows in my drunken stupor. Reopening them, I walk around the house and find the clothes I wore scattered around randomly, and a burger that I never ate. I must have ordered two. The next few hours are a bit of a blur as I am in and out of sleep until about 1:45 PM. I drive to meet my old friend from work whose husband scored me an economy sized, industrial strength bottle of skunk remover. This is great news for me but I need to wait until Brian returns because I have to borrow a wet-vac. It's about time I put him to work helping me with this.

My hangover is craving grease, so I order an extra large, Tuscan Cheese pizza. I don't know what it is about Papa John's, or if they are really just marketing wizards, but I truly believe that they DO have the freshest ingredients. It ices the entire ride home. After pulling into the garage, I walk around to open up the passenger door and the box on top with my peppers and garlic sauce (I always order extra) topples out of the car and lands upside down on the garage floor. The napkins are strewn about the floor and I make a half-hearted attempt to kick them into a pile. I leave them there. Pizza is way more important at this point. I set up bunk on my parents bed with my pizza and Pepsi. I figure they can't get too mad at me in light of what I've had to deal with in the past several days. Sophie happily helps me out and I am pleased to see that although I ordered and paid for 4 peppers, they gave me 20. I watch a Golden Girls marathon and sleep some more. In this moment, life is good. Here is one of my favorite GG quotes:

Rose: Is it possible to be in love with two men at the same time? Blanche: Well, let's set the scene . . . have we been drinking?

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Day 4 of the skunk-off is relatively uneventful. Thank goodness for some good friends, I now have in my possession two different kinds of industrial strength odor-eaters and several sets of rubber gloves (I don't know why I haven't been using gloves this whole time. To be honest, it never even occurred to me). My hands are now completely cracked and PEELING in between the knuckles. Nothing like getting chemicals in open skin. Ouch and GROSS. The spray seems to help quite a bit, and I've started on more laundry (mostly towels). It takes 2-3 cycles for each load in order to get the skunk out for the most part. My parents are going to have quite the hefty electric bill this month. I am so exhausted from the fumes and the general skunk trauma that I take a nap and wake up to Brian making dinner. LOVE him. We watch the Walking Dead, get pissed off at the sheer ridiculousness that the show has become, and go to bed, first shutting all of the windows and doing one more treatment on the carpet.

We wake up to the house smelling like skunk. Surprise, surprise. Le Pew is everywhere. I locate what I think is the problem in the master bathroom (Some sponges and pumice stones), and have Brian throw them outside in the garbage. I can't even look at them. Much like I can't look at Gary Busey without getting angry for no apparent reason. We open all of the windows and vacuum the carpet. I have a hankering for a Wawa coffee so I quick shower and change, ready to start my day. I back out of the garage in my dad's car and ram right into Brian's Civic. Ok... so we're going to have one of THOSE days. There is a scratch and some chipped paint but nothing serious. My dad's car is fine, but I am stinking mad (pardon the pun) because I consider myself a beyond excellent backer-upper (word?) and parallel parker. After returning from Wawa (Best ever) with my low-fat French vanilla cappuccino, I tell Brian what happened with the car. He tells me that he now believes my mother is the best driver in our family (my dad hit his car a few weeks ago). This naturally infuriates me, because anyone who has ever been in the car with my mother knows that she alone is the person who gives all women drivers a bad reputation.

I make a list of crap for Brian to go get me to aid in my battle against Pepe. Before he leaves, I tell him that I might as well clean everything in sight just in case the odor is anywhere I don't expect it to be. The Windex is sitting on the counter and as I grab it by the top, the bottom falls off and the whole bottle explodes on the kitchen floor. Yep, it's one of those days. Windex is now all over the hardwood floor and cabinets. I start whining even worse than Snooki (WAAHHHH!) so Brian takes off to let the tantrum happen without him. I feel, however, that I am entitled to a tantrum. I've kept it together for so long in spite of all of my misfortune... it was bound to happen. Mr. Squirrel is back. I'm pretty sure he has been watching me for the past few days laughing his ass off.

As I'm moping around the house feeling terribly sorry for myself, I can't help but feel a little better about the situation knowing that my parents will be home tomorrow and I can pass the torch to my mom between the hours of 12:00 - 1:00. Although she will have to deal with the odor, the ENTIRE house will be so clean she could eat off the kitchen floor. I'm tackling everything from the rugs, to the sheets, to the bathrooms, and all of the woodwork. Spring cleaning? I think SO, Gary Busey. Blech eck ick wretch!

It's now 5:22 PM Monday (still day 5). Load 183, cycle 2 has just finished in the washing machine, and I'm about to fold towels. I've dusted the entire downstairs and am now making my way into the front hallway. I notice a paper plate, empty, resting suspiciously on the rug. Umm... shouldn't there be coffee grinds on that? YES, there should be. Well they are now strewn about the rug (which is dark in color). Tack that onto Project Leather Chair (Brian has pointed out that the red leather chair and ottoman are emitting skunk fumes) and we have a fun night ahead of us!

C-O-F-F-E-E, coffee is not for me!

Mid Project LC, I stand at the kitchen sink mixing a batch of rubbing alcohol and water. My hands are covered in the alcohol when I feel a cold, wet ice cube go down the back of my pants. I turn around and there is Brian laughing at me. I lose it. I start crying... but it's not an ordinary cry. I have so much emotion running through me by this point that I start deep heaving. No tears. Just big, heavy, tearless cries. I want to sit on the floor and sob like a normal person but I have an ice cube in my butt crack. Brian has to pull my pants down and find it because I'm too hysterical to do it and my hands are soaking wet with rubbing alcohol. He justifies this vicious prank by saying that he is getting me back from last night when I did it to him. Now, I may or may not have put an ice cube down his pants, nonetheless, it was way funnier when I did or didn't do it.

I love that when I type 'Ice Cube' into Google Images, not one single picture of an actual ice cube appears. Today was a good day (shit!). Yeah, Ice Cube. You don't KNOW shit. Whassup.

My parents return on day 6 and they tell me the smell isn't quite as bad as what they had expected. They quickly take that back after being in the stench for about an hour. All I do the entire day is continue treatment on the carpets and furniture whilst complaining the whole time. Around 6:00 my mother tells me that she "doesn't want to hear any more shit about the damn skunk." I tell her that it's all I've done for the past week and therefore have nothing else to talk about. This is my life, Maribeth. Deal. Wednesday and Thursday are repeats of the prior days, but with less bad luck and another mission. I'm helping plan my sister-in-law's baby shower so this gives me something else to focus on while my mom does laundry and treats the carpet. I learn on Thursday that my parents are getting a new carpet in the family room and brand new furniture because they can't stand the smell. This is an excellent excuse for my mother to redo another room in the house. Sorry, Dad, you've been outwitted again. Your credit card has taken a lot of heat this year. Honey badger don't care. Honey badger don't give a shit.

Thursday is a full week since the initial skunking. Everything still smells rancid because no home remedies work. I decide it's time to meet my friends for some beer, so we head over to the Brickette for some country music and line dancing. Within about 30 minutes, I'm drunk. (I don't know what it is about Miller Lite... it goes down like water). I'm on close to my 10th beer when I am ready to "wow" the spectators with my dancing. Chris (my friend who has an igloo mug) and I try our best at line dancing. It is a hard little number so we promptly give up. I make the executive decision to tango instead, and ask an older woman if I can borrow her straw. She looks at me as though I've gone mad and in a very snippy and condescending tone she replies "NO." I ask her for her husband's straw. She again replies "NO" in such a way that I think she might whack me in my shins with her cane. This woman is pissing me off even more than that annoying girl soccer player, Mia Hamm.

Her husband doesn't even need his straw. The glass is empty and he's line dancing. I give up on the Straw Nazi and borrow one from a sweet gent wearing a cowboy hat. I place my rose (straw) in my mouth and we tango. People laugh. At least I think they do... that might be in my head. Woody teaches Toni how to two-step. I'm really tired.

Normally, I am very happy when Friday rolls around, however, the skunk is in my skin, hair, nails, and every bag I brought back from my parents. Pepe is everywhere, it seems. I THOUGHT I had gotten the odor out of our clothes, but I was dead wrong. The past two days have been spent doing laundry. After dropping Brian off at work, I get two more breaaaakkkfaasssstt buuurrrriiiitoooooss, chives please, and a coffee with milk and sugar. I go to reach for the remote when I get to the apartment and neglect to notice that my purse strap is wrapped around my coffee and I knock into the purse, sending the coffee flying to the floor. This is my loss, my luck, and my life. I should buy a lottery ticket. I'm due for something awesome to happen. I imagine in the coming days, I'll have a lot of the same slop, and it is here that I will end this very long and drawn-out blog. I've come to accept the fact that there is nothing I can do. I've given up, the skunk won. Andy 0, Pepe 157.

I bid you farewell, loyal readers. Hopefully, this has entertained you enough for the week. I would just like to warn you.... if you ever get skunked, IT WILL NEVER COME OUT. And boom goes the dynamite.

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