Author Archives: Christina Rivas

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About Christina Rivas

You can't change the waves, but you can learn how to surf.

Holy Scrapbook

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I don’t mean to alarm anybody, but the scrapbook apocalypse has arrived and my office is ground zero.

 

I’ve been all about finding creative outlets for myself and since diaper cakes are on a small hiatus until I get past my stabby attitude towards babies, scrap books seemed like the next logical step.  I mean, who really wants a diaper cake full of small, sharp objects and unlocked pill bottles?  Nobody.  But who wants a scrap book of our honeymoon?  Well, Angel will eventually but he’s not allowed near the office so he doesn’t know it yet.

 

I have been hunting Cricut machines like they are elephant tusks for an ivory market, just waiting for one to go on sale because even I have  my limits.  Today I found one for half off and I damn near killed someone trying to get to my computer to order it before they went out of stock.  Do you see what my quest for creativity is doing to me?  It should be here by Tuesday at the latest.  I would love to say that I’ll blog about it immediately, but given my current track record I’m going to call in sick to work so I can spend a full 18 hours using it before I tuck it in bed with me for the night so it may be a few days before you hear about it’s glory.  Besides, this will allow me sufficient time to come up with a proper name.  All amazing gadgets must be named (see: My Kitchen Aid mixer named Hello Kitchy.  Trust me, once you use one of those naming it won’t sound so weird).

 

I’m too excited about my Cricut machine and scrapbook to sleep…. But such is the life of a starving artist (speaking of, I may have been too distracted to stop for dinner…. I can’t remember).

The Snark is Back

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It appears that I have jumped the emotional hurdle after choosing to share my miscarriage journey.  Apparently all I needed was to speak up in order to move on.  So by only sitting there and reading, you did this, people!  Pat yourselves on the back.

I proudly exclaimed to Angel that “the snark is back!”  and then spent 20 minutes explaining what that meant.  I love having an English-as-a-second-language husband.

I decided that I’m going to give up caffeine for my health.  So I threw out the morning’s Starbucks (Sidebar, what the heck is going on with them raising their prices?!  I’m happy to part with my beloved Starbucks…. ignore today’s indiscretion), and went downstairs to the cafe to grab a quick lunch bite between meetings.

The elevators are broken, so I’ve been hiking up and down flights of stairs all day like it’s my job because, well, today it is.  So I decided to reward myself with my go-to lunch choice of salad:

Whatever, potatoes are vegetables too.

I’ve burned at least 1/1000 of these calories just by walking down to get it.  So there.  I win.

And then because I have a girlish figure to maintain, I threw in one of these for good measure:

"Feel free to continue strutting down the hall like it's your own personal fashion runway" That's what the label says in case you can't read that in the photo

Whatever, I’ll start cutting out caffeine tomorrow.  “A” for effort.

And that’s why you should learn to pick your battles.

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This isn’t mine, but comes from my favorite blogger: Thebloggess.com.  Chek her out, she’s like Mother Theresa, only BETTER

This morning I had a fight with Victor about towels. I can’t tell you the details because it wasn’t interesting enough to document at the time, but it was basically me telling Victor I needed to buy new bath towels, and Victor insisting that I NOT buy towels because I “just bought new towels“. Then I pointed out that the last towels I’d bought were hot pink beach towels, and he was all “EXACTLY” and then I hit my head against the wall for an hour.

Then Laura came to pick me up so we could go to the discount outlet together, and as Victor gave me a kiss goodbye he lovingly whispered, “You are not allowed to bring any more goddam towels in this house or I will strangle you“.   And that was exactly what I was still echoing through my head an hour later, when Laura and I stopped our shopping carts and stared up in confused, silent awe at a display of enormous metal chickens, made from rusted oil drums.

Laura:  I think you need one of those.

me:  You’re joking, but they’re kind of horrifically awesome.

Laura: I’m not joking. We need to buy you one.

me:  The 5-foot tall one was $300, marked down to $100.  That’s like, $200 worth of chicken for free.

Laura:  You’d be crazy not to buy that.  I mean, look at it. IT’S FULL OF WHIMSY.

me:  Victor’d be pissed.

Laura:  Yup.

me:  But on the plus side?  It’s not towels.

Laura:  Yup.

me:  We will name him Henry.  Or Charlie.  Or O’Shannesy.

Laura:  Or Beyoncé.

me:  Or Beyoncé. Yes.  And when our friends are sad we can leave him at their front door to cheer them up.

Laura:  Exactly. It’ll be like, “You thought *yesterday* was bad?  Well, now you have a enormous metal chicken to deal with.  Perspective.  Now you have it.”

Then we flagged down a salesman, and we were all “What can you tell us about these chickens?”, as if we were in an art gallery, and not in a store that specializes in last years’ bathmats.  He didn’t know anything about them, but he said that they’d only only sold one and it was to a really drunk lady, and then Laura and I were all “SOLD.  All this chicken belongs to us now.”

So he loaded it onto a trolley, but Beyoncé was surprisingly unstable, and the giant 5 foot metal chicken crashed over onto the floor.  And Laura and I were all “CHICKEN DOWN!  CLEAN-UP IN AISLE 3″ but he didn’t laugh.  Then the manager came to see what was causing all the commotion, and that’s when he found the very-conservative salesman unhappily struggling to right an enthusiastically pointy chicken which was almost as tall as he was.  The salesman was having a hard time, and he told everyone to stand back “because this chicken will cut you“, and at first I thought he meant it as a threat, like “That chicken has a shiv”, but turns out he just meant that all the chickens’ ends were sharp and rusty.  It was awesome, and Laura and I agreed that even if we got tetanus, this chicken had already paid for himself even before we got it in her truck.

Then we got to my house and quietly snuck the chicken up to my front door, rang the doorbell, and hid around the corner.

Victor opened the door and looked at the chicken in stunned silence for about 3 seconds.  Then he sighed, closed the door and walked away.

Laura:  What the fuck?  That’s it?  That’s the only reaction we get?

me:  That’s it. He’s a hard man to rattle.

Victor was surprisingly pissed that I’d “wasted money” on an enormous chicken, because apparently he couldn’t appreciate the hysterical value of a 5 foot chicken ringing the doorbell.  Then I said, “Well, at least it’s not towels” and apparently that was the wrong thing to say because that’s when Victor screamed and stormed off, but I knew he was locked in his office because I could hear him punching things in there.  Then I yelled through his door, “It’s an anniversary gift for you, asshole.  Two whole weeks early.  15 YEARS IS BIG METAL CHICKENS.”

Then he yelled that he wanted it gone, but I couldn’t move it myself, so instead I said okay and went to watch tv.  Then when the UPS guy came I hid, but he was all “Dude.  Nice chicken” and Victor yelled, “IT IS NOT A NICE CHICKEN”.  Which was probably very confusing to the UPS guy, who was just trying to be polite, Victor. Victor seemed more disgruntled than usual, so I finally dragged the chicken into the backyard and wedged it into a clump of trees so that it could scare the snakes away.  Then I came in and Victor angrily pulled me into his office so that I could see that I’d stationed Beyoncé directly in front of his only window.  And I was all “Exactly. YOU’RE WELCOME.”  I told him that he could move Beyoncé if he wanted to, but he totally hasn’t.  Probably because of all of the giant rocks I piled on Beyonce’s feet to dissuade burglars.  Or possibly because Beyoncé is growing on him.  Still, I can’t help but think that we wouldn’t even be having this argument if Beyoncé was towels.  Honestly, this whole chicken is really a lesson in picking your battles more carefully.  Plus, he’s awesome and I can’t stop giggling every time I look at him.  Beyoncé, that is.

Best. 15th anniversary. ever.

I Heart Audible

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I heart Audible.com.  Seriously.  I’m having a love affair with it.

So far I’ve “read” The Help, STori Telling, Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns), and now Bossy Pants.

Seriously, people.  Check this site out.  Who has time to read anymore?  Download this gem onto your ipod, plug it into your car, and ditch the annoying morning announcers on the radio.

You’ll thank me later.

Morning Time Lapse

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They say your dog takes on the personality of their owners.

I resent that.

My dog has an attitude, she doesn’t wake up in the mornings, and she has a pretty decent case of separation anxiety.  I believe that I only share….. all of these qualities.

Allow me to demonstrate via iPhone time lapse photos Molly in the morning:

7:45am: Alarm has been going off for 20 minutes. 1 person out of bed. Molly: "Don't bother me"

8:05am: Out of shower. Dog still shows no sign of movement. Molly: "Don't bother me"

8:36am: I need to leave for work. It's time for the dog to get up so I can let her out. She's not interested. Molly: "I'll pee in your closet later."

8:42am: After an hour of no movement, I force the dog to get out of bed. Molly: "You promised me cookies, bitch"

8:43am: Molly: "Get the camera out of my face until I can comb down this bed head"

Rest In Peace, Papa

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Wheresoever you go, go with all your heart

-Confucius

This weekend I went home to Colorado to lay my grandfather to rest.  While extremely emotional, the ceremony was beautiful and a wonderful tribute to a wonderful man.

While at the church, I saw the bench in the garden that my grandpa had the church place in tribute to my grandma:

And I was able to reflect upon some of the wonderful moments that I was able to share with my grandpa in my short time with him:

Baking bread

The last time that I saw my grandpa I spoke with him about all of the “signs” that my grandma has given me that she’s still around.  He agreed that they sounded like her and we shared a fun moment dancing at the end of my brother’s wedding.  I can’t think of a better memory to leave with.

He passed away while I was in Puerto Rico for the holidays, and I came home from that trip to a box of Harry and David pears, exact in fashion to the ones my grandpa was notorious for mailing to family at Christmas.  Only these were delivered to my house on “accident”.  Meaning, the real address was nearly 20 minutes away from my house.

After speaking to my grandpa about all of the subtle signs that I’ve noticed, I don’t believe that this was an accident.  I look forward to what he has in store for my future.

My uncle spoke at the funeral service about how my grandpa thought that my grandma’s passing was her gift to him to be able to know his family better.  I think there’s a lot of truth to that.

After the service, the family went over to his house for the evening and as we crammed too many people around a small kitchen table I couldn’t help but think that the person who would love this the most was the one who is no longer here.  Then it occurred to me that if he thought my grandma’s gift to him was family, then this was clearly his gift to all of us.

You started a good thing, Papa.  We are a family who laughs, a family who supports, and a family who will carry on what you created.  May you rest in peace, Papa, right where you belong.

Wanted: 1 Housewife/Domestic Goddess. Inquire Within

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I need a housewife.

I said this to my husband and he responded with “So do I!” as I attempted to find my socks this morning in 4 different piles of laundry on the floor.  As it turns out, more space in the new house just means more space to expand upon my bad habits.

“Maybe it would be easier to find something in the closet if you didn’t have so many Coach purses that you don’t even use”

Gasp “I do too use them” He didn’t mean that, girls as I admire my wall of purse beauty.

“When’s the last time that you used this yellow one?”

Wait, when is the last time that I used that one? “I use it, and you know, this isn’t helping me find my socks.”

Then I decided to go sock commando before he could inquire over more purse usage.

I went downstairs to grab a bottle of orange juice on my way out the door and couldn’t find one because my fridge is full of Thanksgiving left overs.  I’m so not kidding there.  That’s about the time I realized that my house still has Christmas decorations up that would rival a housewife on Black Friday, my pantry is empty, and my trash is overflowing on top of the dirty dishes that don’t fit in the sink. Who’s house is this?

Thus, I leave work in 2 hours for the rest of the day.  I plan on taking down Christmas, cleaning out my fridge, doing laundry and dishes, maybe clean a bathroom or two (or three), and pack my suitcase for my trip to Colorado tomorrow.

All of which would be easier to do if I had the help of a housewife.

Diary of a Miscarriage

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…Know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind.

The kind that blindsides you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday.

-Baz Luhrmann

I’ve thrown around sharing this with the blogging community for quite a while or keeping it to myself, and believe me there are positives and negatives for both.  However, it’s something that I have been struggling with and the positive moments are hard not to celebrate while the difficult moments are getting harder and harder not to talk about.  I know that it’s not a topic that is openly discussed, and believe me when I say that I completely understand why.  Those who are bystanders don’t know what to say, and those who are living it may just be trying to get through the day.

I have now experienced both sides.

Ultimately, the decision to share my painful story is for a few reasons:

  1. I want to be able to openly celebrate the small victories and ask for support during the difficult moments
  2. I believe in the power of prayer
  3. The more I talked about it, the more I found out that I wasn’t alone

The last one is what inspires me to share my story in case anyone is quietly going through this alone.  YOU ARE NOT ALONE.  I wish I had internalized that sooner.

At first, I honestly believed that I was okay to talk about it- and some days I certainly am.  But when I was blindsided by the topic I instantly burst into tears.  So please understand that I’m not being rude when I say that I’m talking about it now, I’ll probably bring it up from time to time in the future, but this topic shall forever remain on the top of my “Don’t Ask Me Unless I Brought It Up” list.  I also appreciate not being the topic of dinner conversation.

Angel and I found out in early November that we were expecting a baby Rivas this July.  Naturally, extreme excitement was replaced by extreme freak out, before we settled into a healthy level of worry.  The worry is what held me back from telling every stranger asking me to move my cart in the grocery store that I was pregnant.  We closed on our new house, moved in, and started calling the empty room “the nursery.”  We thought about adjusting summer travel plans.

And then as quickly as it all happened, it was gone.

I miscarried on December 2nd and was sent to the hospital for surgery in concern that my health was at risk if left unchecked.  December 2nd was the hardest day.

I spent the rest of December physically feeling like I had been hit by a Mac Truck.  Mentally, I had tunnel vision on holiday travel and family.  Now that the holidays are over, I’ve been struggling with balancing the good with the bad.  I would like to think of myself as a relatively positive person, “happiness is a choice” I say, but some days I struggle with who’s in control of that choice: my head or my heart.

Most days, my head wins.  God has a plan I think.

Yesterday my heart won.  A friend of mine announced on Facebook that she and her husband were expecting and their due date is on the exact day that ours was supposed to be.  This is when I decided that it was time to share my story.

I ask for prayers of strength as I continue to cope with the loss and I ask for understanding as I still lack appropriate emotional responses to seemingly everyday events.

Supportive comments to this post are welcomed.