Changes...

Things are indeed different.

For starters, I'm sitting on the sofa next to the hubs.  Not because he has an extra night off, but because he is home in the evenings now!  He accepted a position on first shift, meaning we work pretty much the same hours! For the first time in nearly 4 years, we have dinner together nearly every night. Ansley gets to see both parents, AT THE SAME TIME.

If that wasn't awesome enough, I am writing this from my very own laptop. We've had internet at the house for about a year, but our desktop decided to bite the dust. In addition, life with a two year old means I am going constantly. By the time I get the kiddo in bed, I hit the hay soon after.  I'll admit it. I have a self-imposed bed time that I follow pretty regularly. At 10 p.m., I turn into pumpkin. A mean one.  Normally though, I ended up finally sitting down about 9:30, and I would fall asleep, on the couch, before 10, moving to the bed when the husband got home.

Hopefully, with the holidays coming to a close, things will settle down and we will find a routine to fit into.  At least, until May.

Because actually, that last post about why I've been so tired? I was joking about being pregnant.

And some divine power didn't think it was funny.

Because I am.

And I really am exhausted.

So, there.

Not too much longer...

I have a feeling I'll be back after Christmas. There's some really exciting things in the works, and I can't wait to share. But, right now, I need to be selfish. You'll understand.
But here is a cute picture of the kiddo to hold you over...

Here's the Deal

Ok, so, I know I've been kinda MIA lately. And then I get back on here and I'm all like "I've been so busy and I miss blogging and writing and as soon as things settle down and get back to normal I'll be back" and yadda yadda yadda.

Well, I suppose it is finally time to come clean. I've been exhausted. And tired. And sick.  And...

well...

pregnant.





NOT!  Sorry, couldn't resist. I know everyone is just waiting for that announcement, but you'll just have to keep waiting.

Truth is... I'm a little embarrassed to admit it, but, about three months ago, we took the plunge into somewhat recent television-hood and subscribed to streaming Netflix. And I've been like a little kid in a candy shop ever since.

I've watched River Monsters. All of them.  And Numb3rs. Most of them. And some 24, and some Mythbusters, and some great documentaries (The Kennedy's, anyone?)

But, what takes up most of my viewing pleasure?  McDreamy. And McSteamy.

Yes, that's right. For the past 3 months, I've averaged about 1.5 episodes every 2 days.  Now I must insert a disclaimer that the hubs works evenings, so I'm not sacrificing that time. And I watch after Ansley is in bed.  And I make sure the house and things are cleaned up.

But then, I spend about 47 minutes in Seattle, roaming the halls of Seattle Grace hospital.

I've always been a sucker for medical dramas, so this isn't anything new. And, I used to watch the episodes as they aired, but even though the switch to digital was supposed to be so much better, I get fewer channels now than I did before, and the channels I do get don't have sound. So, yeah, Netflix was to us what indoor plumbing was to my grandparents.

At least, I think they grew up without it.  I know my grandmother certainly appreciates it now.

Maybe it's more like a porta-potty. Not quite as nice as the real thing, but it beats using a tree.

Purging

Here ya go. A raw, rough, vomit of thoughts, right here for the whole world wide web to see:

Frustration, anxiety, joy, sadness, 70 years, puppy breath, planning, failing, falling, jumping, swimming, sliding, drafting, heart attacks, flowers, diaper rash, babies, nieces, nephews, drunk, expectations, alone, 25 cent sale, the jailhouse, fuzzy socks, refinancing, abudant blessings, empty account, big decisions, practicing, cleaning, forgiving, forgetting, celebrating, mourning, arguing, waking, sleeping, working, playing, baseball, grocery shopping, visiting, hugging, laughing, yelling, raining, giving up, letting go, chocolate, soda, scentsy, overnight trip, couponing, picture taking, picture printing, missing, no blogging, wishing for blogging, reading, watching, driving, Moe's Southwest Grill, baby brother, best friends, worst enemies, baby girl, Seinfeld, fish food, time off, the beach, 7 little words, words with friends, a loss for words, texting, xanax, smoking, not smoking, color, bedding, potty training, not potty training......... bleh.

Extended Stay

I just enjoyed a vacation. At the beach. With my whole family.

I love all three of those things. But vacation always seems to fly by so quickly. It seems like it takes MONTHS to get here, then is over before you know it.  This year, however, I managed to find some things that seemed to extend our time there.


Top 10 Ways to Make Your Beach Vacation Seem Longer:

10. Make your pregnant sister sleep on the sofa bed.

9. Stay in a house that sleeps 8, but have 10 people.

8. Rent the quaint little house next door to the three story house with a beautiful, crystal-clear swimming pool.

7. While at stoplights, look around to find yourself surrounded by cars not only from your home state, but FROM YOUR COUNTY. (We were 9 hours from home)

6. Dream about work. Every. Flippin. Night.

5. Go to Walmart. Every day.

4. Make sure your dogs know that a recent high school grad is house sitting, and they need to do everything in their power to be the topic of several facebook conversations, including having puppies!

3. Pack almost 20 different shirts, but some how manage to forget to pack enough undies.

2. Get a major sinus infection the first day.

And, the number one way to make a beach vacation seem that much longer....

Plan it for the same time as Shark Week.

Oh, and, make sure your kiddo decides to cry the last hour of your trip home.

But that's 11 ways. Just leave one out.

Dirty Laundry

This week, I've been attending a conference for work. I've really enjoyed it, and it is always fun to get together with several people who have similar careers, passions, and goals.

We've spent a lot of time addressing the issue of poverty, and how a community should respond. It has really opened my eyes to why so many of my students make the decisions they do.

I've always wondered why a child may go without several meals throughout the week because of lack of money, yet have a super nice cell phone or iPod, nice clothes and cable television.

Growing up, I always knew we were "poor," but it never really felt like it. We may not have had the nicest clothes, but we never went without a meal, and my parents did an excellent job of making the annual carnival seem really dangerous and sleezy (making me not want to go), rather than worrying us because the bills weren't getting paid.

But, that's not what this is about.

I know there are people that are seriously struggling under our current economic situation. And I know there are people that are living paycheck to paycheck.  But until recently, we weren't those people. And then, it all kinda seemed to hit the fan.

The Hubs lost all opportunities for overtime, because the department got their leash shortened.

Our AC went out, in July, and we HAD decided to splurge and get it fixed.

And we became regular tithers at church.  We used to tithe when we remembered the checkbook (about once every 6 weeks). Then we just started keeping a checkbook in the car.

I'm not putting all this out there to air our dirty laundry or anything, but just to share my recent revelation.  No one is immune.

The best laid plan can still crumble.  Savings accounts can hold only $.04.  And, hopefully, a family of 3 can make it 4 more days on, um, $141.

The great news is that this is really teaching me the difference between necessity and oh-my-goodness-this shirt-is-to-die-for-and-it's-on-sale-and-these-shoes-would-look-so-awesome-with-it-and-let's-celebrate-the-awesome-find-with-a-chicken-salad-sammy-from-Arby's!

Also, I'm learning that even though my checking account is dangerously low, all our bills have been paid for this month. The mortgage is up to date. I know that I've got enough food in the kitchen to last weeks. Well, except for milk. But that's primarily because I drink it like it's going out of style. We have soaps, shampoos, plenty of clothes, cars, insurance. Jobs.  Even when we struggle, we still have it so much better than so many.

There are about 12,000 homeless people in my state.  Whether it's because they have chosen the lifestyle or have fallen on hard times, the point is that each night, it's a guess as to where they will lay their heads.

And even though I'm stressing about making the nearly empty gallon of milk and half a loaf of bread last until Tuesday, Ansley had a warm bath, a nice snack, is sleeping in a comfy bed, and my tummy is full.

And the AC is cooling nicely.

Like Sand Through the Hourglass...

So are the Days of Our Lives.

Before you start thinking I'm going to write about how it is an insult to humankind to cancel soap operas, or, as my grandma so lovingly calls them, "stories," let me say that is NOT what this is about.

Honestly, I can say that I haven't watched a soap in, um...15 years? But, it is true. I was totally a fan.  Of Days of Our Lives and Passions, to be specific.

I'm pretty sure my siblings hated me during the summers. Because being home from school for 3 months meant that from 1 p.m. to 3 p.m., I took charge of the television.  I have no idea why my parents let me watch them. And I can honestly say that they didn't really make sense to me. I knew early on that someone couldn't die, but then it be a faked death, but then a witch casts a spell on them and they lose their memory and then they really do die but they come back because the witch actually loved them.  On TV? 3 days. IRL? 3 years for that storyline to play out.

I used to think the best job in the world would be acting on a soap. So many different stories and so many different cute guys to kiss. I am not even kidding.

So, yeah, this isn't about that. It's about how I can't seem to get a grasp on time.  Each day feels like just a few hours, and before I know it, a whole week has gone by. Months ago, I put a down payment on a beach house for vacation. MONTHS. 6, actually.  And now, that trip is just 2 weeks away.

Don't get me wrong. I'm totally excited. I've been wishing time would go quickly so this trip would get here. It's our first family vacation. I don't mean me, Paul and the kiddo. I mean my family. My parents, my siblings, my sibs-in-law. Our first. EVER.

I've spent so much time wishing it to get here, that I've missed the simple beauty of every day.

I've spent a year and a half wishing for bedtime, only to end up with a kiddo that will be 2 in as many months.

I can remember being younger and feeling like time passed so slowly. It would never be Christmas. It would never be summer vacation. It would never be time for me to drive. It would never be time for me to graduate. College would never end. Marriage was so far away...

I celebrated 5 years of marriage. My 5 year college reunion is this fall. My 10 year high school reunion is next year. I took down the Christmas tree in Ansley's room about 2 months ago. And Christmas is in 5 months.

Where does it go? The time? When did I grow up? Because I feel like I'm missing so much. I go to sleep to wake up to a new day. Another X on the calendar. Another day of anticipating vacation, and counting until bedtime.

Unfinished

I cannot seem to etch out even a little bit of time for mommy as of late. I have not had my hair cut in, um... almost.... I have no clue, but I think it was part of my daily document thing.

Last Saturday, I did my nails. Shaped, smoothed, buffed, polished. But only my left hand. My right hand remains unfinished.

I have a dear friend who is due with her first in about three weeks. Her baby shower card, from WEEKS ago? Unsigned. Part of the gift? Unfinished.

I started watching a documentary on the Kennedys. Because, hello, I was a history major and I'm a total nerd and I like to watch that stuff for fun, and have recently started to miss college because I haven't written a research paper in AGES. Yup. You guessed it. Unfinished.

The curtains in Ansley's new room have been put up, and the paint colors picked out, and the plan laid out perfectly in my mind. But the project itself. Unfinished. Actually, not really even started.

I could keep going: the numerous knitting projects, the bags of clothes to go to Goodwill, but have not yet made it to the car, the several books I have dog-eared around the house, the refinancing paperwork, cleaning out the refrigerator, the laundry, a plethora of blog posts....

I used to work for a newspaper. As much as I hated the stress that came with a deadline, my best work came as that time approached. In college, it was the same. My 38-page thesis? Yup, pretty much written in two days.  I have always felt that I work better under pressure.  But I think it is finally catching up to me.

Because not only have I stopped working well under pressure, it makes me pretty much stop working. I do the same thing every day. And I love it. Don't get me wrong. But after a long day at work, and a long, sometimes trying evening with Queen of the Terrible Twos, by the time I get her to sleep (which seems to be getting later and later), and I'm able to do a little bit of housework (I'm talking, the dishes washed and the tornado of toys cleaned up), I don't have the energy to read a few pages. Or paint my nails. Or take off the unmatching nail polish from when Ansley decided to paint my nails.

I know it gets better. And I know I wouldn't trade what I have for anything. But, I'm not going to lie. I hate leaving things unfinishe

Recently

How about some recent pics?

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Fair

Last night at Bible study, we stumbled upon a topic that is always tough to deal with.

Is God fair?

This question is a double edged sword. Because we are told in scripture that He is just, and in our finite human minds, to us, that should mean that He is fair. But our very definition of the word is perverted.

"It isn't fair that I have to work Saturday."
"It isn't fair that they always have the finer things in life! We work so hard!"

But then, what about those bigger issues? We still toss around that simple word, selling ourselves short of what we really mean.

It isn't fair that some women struggle with infertility, while others have abortions.
It isn't fair that some children are born addicted to drugs.
It isn't fair that some children go without food, while the parents don't go without cigarettes.
It isn't fair that right now, Melissa, over at Three Times the Fun, just had to title her last post "Three cribs, minus one" because one of her 6 month old triplets, Owen, died.

THAT ISN'T FAIR.

And it hit me really hard. Because I live in a world that cries out for equality. Fairness. We raise our kids under the idea that every kid makes the team. Even if it means sitting the bench the entire season, or cutting the playing time of a kid that actually is good so parents don't get upset. If you plan on inviting one child to a birthday party, you have to invite the whole class, so no one's feelings get hurt.

All this does is keep kids from experiencing disappointment.

This feeling of entitlement? It carries over into adulthood. Entitled to disability, Medicare, Food Stamps. Entitled to have all the best stuff, without working for it. Entitled to drive that new Lexus, even if it means going to a pregnancy center to get help with diapers. Every week.

Jails are required to have luxuries, like cable. Because that is fair.

But is it fair that someone is going without their loved one, because of a decision made by someone else?

And I've grown up thinking that God is the ultimate judge. The ultimate in fairness. But, it isn't true.

Because if God were to be fair, and give us what we really deserve, it would not have been His son. He would give us the consequences for our rebellion. But, he doesn't. He isn't fair. Instead, He shows Grace. And Mercy. Instead of giving us what we do deserve, He blesses us with that which we don't deserve.

So, here I live. In a world that isn't fair. In a world that struggles to show grace and mercy. In a world that says fairness is expected. A world were people feel like they are owed. Like they deserve.

And I'm the same way. Because I feel entitled. Entitled to have a healthy next pregnancy, since the first one was a little rough. Entitled to have a raise at work, because I work my tail off. Entitled to have the husband cater to me, because I put Ansley to bed every night.

Entitled to that grace and mercy, because my sins aren't that bad.

I'm reminded of a beautiful song:
                            I am the thorn in Your crown, But You love me anyway 
                            I am the sweat from Your brow, But You love me anyway 
                            I am the nail in Your wrist, But You love me anyway 
                            I am Judas’ kiss, But You love me anyway

That's what isn't fair. 

Captain Obvious

I'm doing dishes the other evening, when I notice the hubs has left his chewing gum stuck to his plate. I decide to leave the treasure on the plate for him to deal with later.

He gets home from class, and notices there are a few dishes in the sink. Mostly just a mixing bowl from the awesome chocolate chip banana bread I made (that is for another post and time. Just know that it was a little slice of heaven with some extra chocolate chips thrown in).

The hubs decides to wait to do the dishes until the next morning.

::Fast forward about 7 hours::

Hubs (almost accusative): Hey, babe? Why is there chewing gum stuck to a plate in the sink?
Me: Because you left it on your plate after dinner and rushed off to class.
Hubs: Oh, well, I, um... guess that's why then.

Steps in the right direction

Today was day 3.

The third day that binkie, aka the paci, was left in Ansley's bed when she woke up.

I've heard mixed opinions. My moms have told me that she's fine, she's still a baby. But the glances I get from people in the grocery store say otherwise.

Yes, my child is in the mid 90% for height, and upper 80s for weight. She doesn't looks like she should be turning 3 instead of 2... in 4 months non the less.

So, no, you aren't seeing a pre-k kid with a paci. And her teeth are fine. And she talks all.the.time.

But, nonetheless, we decided to phase out the binkie. So far, so good. Today, she didn't even ask for it! And we've been binkie free since saturday. With the exception of a few hours this morning because the hubs had to work a double last night and decided it was necessary for him to catch a cat nap on the couch while the kiddo played "box" (or, blocks. whatev.)

I guess I've been stalling because I honestly can't believe that in 4 short months, she will be 2. That means its time for me to stop keeping her age in months. It's time to potty train. It's time to transition to a toddler bed. It's time... to take deep breaths...

Whirlwind

That's a pretty good description of our lives right now. Between the hubs being back in school, and attending numerous trainings- several hours away, Ansley cutting multiple molars at once, and, well, me just trying to keep my head above water, life has been a little crazy.

But, regardless of how fast life is going, I've realized that there's always time to slow down. Even if just for a few minutes.

And just... be thankful.

I was hit hard with this yesterday as I drove to a neighboring county for school.  It is a drive I have made a ridiculous number of times. But this time was particularly different.

Just a few weeks ago, the Southeast was devastated by hundreds of tornadoes. I hate storms. But I've learned that Ansley looks to me for comfort. When the sky lights up and the thunder rumbles, as long as Mommy is calm, then Ansley follows suit.

Despite a day of storms, several hours without power and record amounts of rainfall, we were fine. Actually, I was fine. I was surprised at how calm I remained, even when the school I was teaching at was evacuated into the halls for nearly an hour while the skies grew black.

Except for one small branch that fell in front of the house, we remained damage free.  I joked. Almost all day. Because the weathermen were giving strict warnings. Get inside. In the basement. Away from windows. And then, it turned into nothing.  At least, for us.

Then, I watched the news, and heard about all the destruction in surrounding areas. And even heard of destruction that happened here. Locally. I looked at pictures. But it was still so foreign.

Until today. When I saw some of that damage myself.

I was breathless. And not in a good way. A forest leveled. Trees snapped in half. A front porch, on front of nothing.

And I realized just how fortunate we were. And it wasn't because I was "lucky" enough to see all of American Idol before we lost power that night. But it is because we still have a roof. And it is still over our heads. And, right now, Ansley is snoozing soundly in her bed, the pups are snuggled on the couch, and I'm sitting here at the computer, while so many lost so much. More than just stuff.  But people.

And despite all that whirls around me, I've got to stop. And take some time. And realize just how fortunate I am. To have a family that loves me more than words can express. To have... so much.

I'm regularly emotional. But every once and a while, "emotional" doesn't come close to describing all that is running through my head.

So tonight, though weeks after such brutal storms slammed practically the entire nation, I pray that you and yours are all safe and sound. And despite whatever whirlwind hits your life-literal or metaphoric- you will be able to reach out and grab that which is really important to you.

World's Worst Sister

This is a shout out to my dear sis that calls New Mexico home:

Though Wednesday nights have become a time for me and our shared sister to get together and watch American Idol, it in no way means that we don't miss-or think- about you while we do it.

You are very special to us, and if we could make a weekly trip to New Mexico for dinner and Idol, we totally would, however neither of us get off in time to make it there to watch it.

I'm sorry for slipping it in to a blog post, and even more sorry if you felt we didn't include you.

I hope this special note makes up for it, if even just a little. Besides, we both like Scotty, and he's the country guy. You probably wouldn't agree, and we'd end up having a throw-down every week. So, really, it is better for the health of all involved.

We do love you, and are beyond excited about spending vacation with you in 2.5 months. If you would like, we can watch the whole season again while we are all together. We promise not to tell you who wins (but I will tell you who doesn't win: Jacob!).

Love and miss you dearly,
Tiffany

All I Long For...

... is time to catch up. On:
Life.
Blogging.
Laundry.
Housework.
Refinancing paper work.
Ansley's baby book.
House.
Grey's Anatomy.
The Office.
Office work.
Updating photos around the house.

And maybe time to get ahead. On:
Housework.
Blogging.
Bills.
Grocery shopping.
Potty training.
Project Binkie Gone

And, maybe just a little time for myself. For:
A warm bath.
A good book.
Shoe shopping.
Nails.
Hair.

But I'm not sure I'm willing to sacrifice:
Walks in the evenings with Ansley
Blowing bubbles.
Playing fetch with Rascal.
Quick chicken nugget dinners.
Sidewalk Chalk.
Wednesday Sister Dates for American Idol.
Hitting snooze 3 times each morning.

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

Last week? So good.

Except for the record number of tornadoes that happened to ravage the south. And the fact that I wore two unmatching flip flops on Monday. And the fact that I've singlehandedly managed to eat all the peanut butter filled chocolate Easter candies. Ok, so that still counts as being so good.

But, today? I'm hoping it isn't a preview of what is to come this week.  Some small demon possessed my child. She was MEAN today. I'm pretty sure it is because 1.) She flipped between sitters last week, 2.) She is cutting yet another tooth, and 3.) She didn't nap. AT.ALL.

I've struggled with picking her up from the sitter's before. She isn't always the most excited about going home. I get a hug, but then she's back to playing with the two other kiddos. She normally will cry, saying "Pay, Pay!" Not because I haven't paid the sitter, but because she has a had time with the letter L. And, probably because I did forget to pay the sitter and she's teaching Ansley some not-so-subliminal messages.

But, today, it was the UGLY. Not only did she not want to come to me from the sitter, but, when I actually took her, she slapped my face and pulled my hair. And it hurt. Not physically. But emotionally, and it hurt my pride.

I'm quick to say, "Oh, my kid is so much better better than that one pitching a fit over a barbie doll at Walmart." But it's when it goes the other direction that I think I'm just as hard. On myself.

I know we've hit a stubborn streak. And I know she'll come back around to be that sweet little girlie. But right now, I feel like a failure. Because I frequently have the kid that is crying in the grocery store. Or refusing to eat at the restaurant.

Or I have the kid that isn't even excited about seeing Momma when she gets home from work.

Yeah, sometimes it sucks.

Just sayin'.

It's a Monday

Today, I sported my flip flops. ALL DAY. It was only after I got off, and finished my dentist appointment, and was headed to my sister's to pick up a weed eater with the hubs that I realized... They didn't match.

FAIL.

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Um, hello?

Dear maker of Moose Tracks ice cream,

You are a current favorite. That is a very coveted position, you should know. However, I feel I must inform you that you may soon no longer be invited to the party in my freezer.

It is not acceptable to have only 2 peanut butter cups in one night's serving, and 6 in the next night's. Same number of scoops. Should mean the same number of yummy peanut butter filled bits of chocolate goodness.

I'm nearing the end of this carton, and if your performance does not impress me, it's back to my good friends B&J.

Consider yourself warned.
Smooches!
Tiffany

It's time

I've made a little bit of a mention of some of our recent events.

From my upswing from my last anxiety attack, to a seizure Ansley had just a few weeks ago. Things are starting to fall back into place. I think.

I can't fully explain what I experienced with that text message from Paul. Before you get all "He told you over a text message that your daughter was in the ER" hate on, that's not what happened.

I was teaching. About 45 minutes from home. Paul had a meeting for work, and was unable to find a baby sitter, so he took Ansley in for the meeting with him.

While teaching, I got a message from Paul. It said "Call me when you can." Doesn't seem like much of a big deal. But, in fact, it was. Because that is unlike any message he has ever sent. Normally, the messages say "Call when you get a chance." Seems like the same thing, but I knew there was something different about this message.

When we decided  Paul got rid of his blackberry, he went back to a super old phone. I'm talking, the first one he got after we got married- 5 years ago. No camera, no color screen, and really, REALLY bad reception. So bad that when we are talking, I kinda just make up his end of the conversation because I have no idea what he is saying.

So, picture me as I walk down the hall of the middle school with kids saying "Bye sex lady!" (my students love me, what can I say) It is probably important to note here to the new readers that I'm actually a risk avoidance educator, and we do talk about avoiding risks- alcohol, drugs, and sex before marriage. My students lovingly refer to me as "sex lady."

Tangent.

Anywho, I'm walking down the hall trying to get all the information together that Paul is giving me. I manage to  understand that he is telling me that he is at the ER with Ansley because she had a seizure during his meeting. And, I freeze. I literally felt like my brain stopped communicating with my body. My legs wouldn't move even though I knew that's what had to happen if I was going to even get more information.

I stood there, at the middle school bathroom, while the world continued to blaze around me. Stoic. Unmoving. And I didn't know what to do.

A parent never feels as worthless as when their child needs them, and there isn't a thing they can do to get there in time.  My parents have never let me down. When I nearly lost a finger, they drove over an hour to get to the hospital, just to arrive as I was being discharged. When I was in labor, and they were half a country away, they skipped had someone pick them up at another airport 2 hours outside of where they were to fly in because their flight was canceled. And they came straight to the hospital. Even though they couldn't get in to see Ansley.

And several times, just in Ansley's short life, I haven't been there with her when I felt like she needed me the most.

Even if I had left straight away from where I was and headed to the hospital, they would have already been on their way home.

I got home to a confused little girl, in socked feet, a ponytail, and just about the cutest hospital gown I have ever seen. But, it was obvious that something was off.

She stumbled. Words that she used on a regular basis she couldn't come up with. When Nana and Poppa came over, that usual toothy grin didn't spread across her face. My little piggy didn't want to eat.

As happy as I was to see her and have her home, the mommy cat kicked in, and I was sure that the doctors had not checked her well enough. In my mind, all those scans should have been in order. Check her brain, her blood, her heart, anything. Just make sure she's ok.

The hubs informed me that the docs were not concerned about the event. They figured she just spiked a fever quickly and it caused the seizure.  But that wasn't good enough for me. Before I even saw her, I had made an appointment with her doctor for the next day. I wanted answers.

Turns out, those were the answers. Her lungs sounded good. Her heart sounded fine. Her ears looked good. Her temperature was normal. And she was back to herself. And I still don't know why.

Apparently, this happens more commonly than people think. But I can assure you, it didn't say that in any of the books I read. It said what to do in the event that a child have a seizure, but it didn't say anything about them being "common." Ultimately, it was determined that she had a cold that turned into an upper respiratory infection that cause the fever to spike quickly.

And, that's that. But, here we are, several weeks out, and I'm still checking her temperature. Regularly. Not with the thermometer. At least, not every time.

The hubs has admitted that he debated not telling me at all, because he knew how I would respond. I tell him that it is much better for him to have told me than for me to have found the bill from the ER in the mailbox.

Every day is a new day. One thing about being the first of your friends to have kids means that you get to experience everything first. The first NICU stay. The first bloody nose. The first serious boo-boo. The first ER trip. Maybe one day, I'll be able to comfort one of my friends if they experience this. But I just hate that I had to be the first to feel like a total failure as a parent.

Every day is an adventure

Each and every day brings something new, even when I'm doing the same things every day.

Wake up, work, play, dinner, bath, bed, clean-up and bed for me.

Every once and a while I can squeeze in a little something extra.

Like tonight. It only took 2 attempts to put Ansley to bed. So, what does that mean? Well, I've cleaned up, took the pups out and I've managed to find some time to sit down at the computer and pound out a post while enjoying some chocolate chips cookies and a glass of milk.

Today I enjoyed some girl time with some very dear girl friends I don't get to spend nearly enough time with.  It surprises me that despite being so shy normally, Ansley just seemed to open up tonight. She was playing with the girls, and, a total shock to me, she gave them all hugs when we left!

It's crazy to see how much of her own person she is becoming, even at the ripe ol' age of 19 months. She likes having tea parties. And pushing around her doll stroller. And though an actual conversation is still a little while away, she will answer yes or no questions. Now, most of the time, the answer is no, but she's just being honest. She doesn't want her diaper changed and she isn't ready for bed.

Ah, bed. It seems that is new every few weeks. She got back to sleeping about 12 hours without waking up. What a dream. But then, after a little scare we had a few weeks ago that I'm not sure I'm ready to talk about (not a baby scare, as in "like, I'm scared I may be pregnant" but an "OMG my daughter is having a seizure" kinda scare), she was back to waking around 4 a.m. and sleeping in our bed.

But, the past two nights (and I know I'm asking for it by talking about it), she slept ALL NIGHT in her bed WITHOUT waking up.  It was blessed.

I know this wasn't a colorful post. Not funny, or witty. But sometimes, I just have to detox. Like I need to go do with my feet. Flats? No socks? Stinky feet.

9:52- Rascal knocks baby gate over. Mommy cringes, waiting for the cry from the hall...

Seal knew what he was talking about. Time keeps on slippin' into the future.

I MISS BLOGGING!

It is such a great way for me to unwind, but I don't even feel like I have time to do that anymore.

I fly solo in the evenings and can't seem to make any time for myself. I know there are other moms out there there that also don't get the joy of working the same shift as their hubs. And they seem to be able to find time to write, to read books, to shop online, to clean house and actually make a dinner.

How did my evening go? Minute by minute breakdown:

5:05- Leave the office and head to pick the kiddo up
5:20- Kiddo in the car, heading home
5:30- Squeeze in a walk before the rain hits
6:00- Return from walk, turn the oven on preheat for our frozen pizza we shared for dinner. Go outside to play.
6:10- Mommy runs inside to put the pizza in the oven.
6:11- Back outside. Ansley is helping me weed the flower beds. Really, I'm weeding and Ansley is taking the pulled weeds to the "pile," which happens to be in the other flower bed.
6:30- Mommy gathers up Ansley and both head inside. Take pizza off pizza pan, let cook for last 5 minutes on rack.
6:32- Change Ansley's diaper
6:36- Take pizza out of oven. Cut and let cool. Fix Ansley a drink. Cut her pizza into bite size pieces. Look at the window for the storm. Still not there.
6:40- Ansley and Mommy sit and enjoy pizza.
6:55- Prepare for bath (Ansley sitting on new potty chair while Mommy repeated says "C'mon Ansley! Go pee-pee!) Unsuccessful
7:10- Ansley in the tub. Mommy wets, lathers, rinses. Ansley plays.
7:25- Still playing
7:40 Ansley out. Jammies, brushed hair, milk cup, blocks
8:15- Talk with Dada on phone
8:20- Calm down time in Ansley's room. Rocking, swaying, GT and the Halo Express playing. Mommy singing.
8:25- Ansley in bed. Mommy finally takes a potty break. Return to living room to start clean-up
8:35- Rufus starts barking, Ansley wakes up. Crying. Mommy goes out to bring Rufus in.
8:37- Mommy arrives. Ansley clicks wanting a drink. Kid has already had three sippy cups since dinner. Mommy rocks a little more
8:38- Ansley back down. Mommy back to cleaning
8:41- Bunker barks at Rufus. Rufus barks back. Ansley cries. Mommy returns.
8:42- More rocking. More singing.
8:47- Ansley back down. Mommy back to cleaning. All blocks put away.
8:57- Ansley cries. AGAIN. Mommy arrives. Kid starts clicking. Mommy gets cup of water. Rocking.
9:05- Mommy puts Ansley back down. Starts raining. Mommy closes all the windows, turns the AC on, remembers she needs laundry for tomorrow, but doesn't want to wake the kiddo up, so decides to just wear business clothes tomorrow.
9:10- Yup. Ansley cries.
9:13- Ansley back down.
9:15- Mommy starts to order Proactiv. Doesn't like that they will automatically charge my card. Decides to return to Proactiv vending machine this weekend.
9:22- Checks facebook.
9:23- Decides to write blog post
9:24- Internet crashes. Total reboot

And now? It's 9:33 and I haven't written anything of substance. The kiddo is finally asleep. The living room is partially clean, and all I want to do is go to bed. And, this breakdown? Very similar every night of the week. Normally Ansley does go down a little easier, though that is becoming less of common event.

I know that stay at home moms work. They are on the clock every minute of the day. Working moms may put in 8 hours outside of the home, but they aren't off at 5 p.m. when they get home. Because then, they are responsible to the big boss. And with the hubs gone at night, I get a taste of what single moms go through. It isn't easy. Parenting in general isn't easy.

And with all the things that I can't seem to get done, I feel like a failure on so many levels. My house is rarely clean, even though the hubs does an excellent job of helping out while he is home and I'm at work. But I feel that because I can't juggle being a mom AND being my own person, maybe I wasn't ready for a kiddo. Maybe that urge I have just to draw a warm bath and grab a book means that I should have postponed Mommyhood a little.

But, ultimately, even at the end of the day, when I'm exhausted and my teeth are fuzzy because I haven't had a chance to brush them and I'm trying to figure out if I can get away with not ironing my dress pants tomorrow and I'm struggling to hold my eyes open even at 9:41 (which, in college, was when the fun was just starting), I know that just a few steps down the hall is a kiddo who thinks I'm something special, even if my pants are wrinkled. And just a few miles away is a man that will be home in a few hours, find me asleep on the couch, and love me despite the mega blocks and plastic food that is littering the floor.

And, that does make me my own person. Because those two people love me for who I am, not how many books I read or how many witty facebook statuses I come up with. But because I love them both so much, I pour myself out day in and day out.

Besides, who needs to read Water for Elephants when there's Dr. Seuss anyway?

Working on our logic.

Mommy, while Ansley is playing outside: "Ansley, let's go in to take a bath."

Ansley, very convinced: "NO!"

Mommy, trying to seize this opportunity for a learning point: "Ansley, are you supposed to tell Mommy 'no?'"

Ansley, obviously understanding the question, and subsequently confused: "No?"

It finally happened.

Today, I was one of those moms.

You know what I'm talking about. The one with the screaming toddler in Walmart that wants to do everything and grab everything and push the cart with the handle and open the bag of mini donuts while yelling "DONUT" at the top of her lungs (the toddler does this stuff. Not the mom.)

That was me. And I tried everything. Put her in the cart basket. Cart seat. Hold her. Let her push. Give her something to carry and tell her to follow. Get down on her level and calmly explain to her that she is not making Mommy proud right now and there were going to be serious consequences to her actions if she did not behave while we were grocery shopping. I think she got a little hung up on the "consequence" word. Or maybe you just can't reason with an 18-month-old. I'm not entirely sure which.

But I was so embarrassed. I didn't want her screaming, but it was physically impossible for me to carry her AND push the cart. At least, push the cart in a controlled manner. And I wanted to give in. I wanted to give her what she wanted rather than discipline her for not obeying. And it suddenly became so easy to understand why some parents needed the help of "Super Nanny."

And Super Nanny would not have approved of my methods today. Because instead of a time out chair, Ansley got a spanking. ::gasp::

And then, that made me feel like even more of one of those moms. Because I heard myself saying "Ansley, do  you want a spanking?"  And people were looking at me. I'm not entirely sure if it was because I was threatening a spanking, or because I had about 5 pounds of cheese in my cart.

Either way, it was an ordeal. But I didn't want to leave her with someone while I went shopping. She is with the sitter for two hours on Monday afternoon, and I felt that it wasn't fair to pick her up and drop her off with someone else while I went out. So, I took her.

I don't regret it. I just wish she understood bribery  positive reinforcement.

Here's Your Sign

I can remember being in high school, and there was this really popular comedy skit that would play on the radio called "Here's Your Sign."

It was typically mocking stupid things people do, or things stupid people do (take your pick).

Not that I pride myself in being a fan of country music now, but I tried desperately to get away from it then. But not only could I not escape that skit, I couldn't escape the fact that people do in fact do stupid things.

And things have not changed. Except now, churches think it is fun and totally awesome to come up with clever catchphrases for their signs. And several in the past few days have left me wanting to say "Here's your sign."

The first one that I passed every day on the way to a neighboring county last week.

"I'm too blessed to be depressed."
I kid you not. I became furious. Not necessarily for me, though I would be lying if I didn't admit that I was personally offended.

But I thought about all the people that struggle with depression. And it isn't because they don't feel "blessed."

And, I think that is a problem with the church.

I've struggled with anxiety. Though I don't think I've ever seriously struggled with depression, I know some very good friends that have. And we have faced common obstacles.

I remember driving home from the doctor's office after my first appointment regarding the anxiety attacks. I was talking with my mother-in-law on the phone, and I just started crying. Because to me, I felt like I wasn't a "good enough Christian" because I often let anxiety get the best of me. I felt that by taking medicine, I wasn't completely trusting the Lord and His provision.

And then, just a few weeks later, while visiting the in-laws, there was a sermon in church about that very thing. About anxiety being a result of a lack of faith.

And it added to my condition. And it breaks my heart that some people still believe that depression is just an emotional problem.

"Oh, you're depressed? Well, just think about everything you have to be thankful for."

I'm sorry. It isn't that easy. And just when I feel like all the stupid people that think that depression or even PPD is an emotional issue finally learned to keep quiet (ahem. Tom Cruise), someone else comes out of the woodwork, making it be someone's "fault" that they are depressed.

Garbage.

That same day, a little closer to my destination, I saw a church sign that read "When in doubt, let Jesus lead."  And it made me angry. Just about as angry as the "God is my copilot" bumper stickers that were so common in years past.

This church, obviously looking to gain some new attendees, actually had a digital church sign that offered several slogans. "Body piercing saved my life." I'm not even going to touch that one.

The thing that struck me about this is that it seemed to contradict all I had been taught, and recently come to accept. Isn't God always supposed to lead? And, if we are in doubt, isn't it because we're the ones that were trying to lead in the first place?

I know the sentiment they were aiming for. But they were way off.

Finally, that same day, while headed to my sister's house for our weekly American Idol date, I passed a church sign that came as a warm sense of relief in comparison to the signs of before.

"Forgive your enemies. It messes with their head."

And I laughed. Out loud. For a few minutes. Because that's it. That's what being human is. Sure, it means a lot to love and forgive as Jesus also forgave us. But there is something about needing to feel justified. And, maybe I'm wrong in this, but if by forgiving someone you make them say "huh?" and spend a few minutes trying to figure out what just happened, that's justification. By turning the other cheek.

I'm not normally a sign reader. I don't typically drive slow enough to read an entire sign. But after a recent trip to the eye doctor revealed that I should probably wear glasses while driving, I've been able to read more signs. Turns out it wasn't that I drove too fast. I just couldn't see.

Misspelling

I love my mom dearly. However, her fingers seem to have a mind of their own. Especially on Facebook.

So today, I'm checking status updates, and I notice one from my mom. And I seriously almost peed my pants from laughing.

"not sure how much i will be able to do here today Ansley is in my lap and she had 4 boob shots today so bear with us..."


Ansley went to the doctor today and had 4 shots. 4 BOO BOOS.


But, no. To my mother? Boob shots.


Could you ask for anything else?

The Speed of Life

Dear Ansley,
     You are 18 months old today! And though you've already nearly grown out of 24 month clothing, it's hard for me to see you as anything other than my little girl.

     These last 18 months have been full of their ups and downs. Mostly up, but some pretty deep downs. But despite the fact that I feel inadequate, you seem to think I'm enough.

     I'm enough to wipe away your tears when Da-Da leaves for work. I'm enough to clean your first really scraped knee.  I'm enough to guard Bear while you take off on an adventure in the yard or at the park. I'm enough to make you laugh. And I'm enough for you to share kisses with before you go "bye-bye," even if that means you are just taking your toy keys to try and open my car door.

     I cannot believe how fast you are growing. It is literally happening before my eyes. It seems like every day, you add a new word to your ever increasing vocabulary. You call the dogs by name, you ask for certain people and you certainly know the meaning of "more!" You can follow instructions, though, most of the time you choose not to.

     As I pulled out your spring clothes, I remember what I felt as I first stored them, thinking "These are so big. It will be years before she can wear this!" But it hasn't been years. For some things, it hasn't even been a year. I remember so vividly this time last year. Finally sitting up. Still not a fan of crawling. And now, you are running. Full speed ahead.

     Ansley, please don't run too fast. I feel like the time of me being enough is quickly slipping away. Before we know it, playing peek-a-boo with Mommy will be stupid. Having me give you a bath will be weird. Those words that you are so ready to share now will become yours. Part of your story that I'm not enough for, and will be too much for me.

     Scraped knees will be the least of your worries, and Bear will become an embarrassing story you think I tell only when boys are around. You will probably still lose sleep at night, but it won't be because of teeth. It will be projects and games and dates.

     But don't go too fast, little girl. Don't fight a hug from Mommy or Daddy. Because to us, you are more than we could have ever imagined. I never could have dreamed what my life is like now. I never could have dreamed the ways you have changed me.

     I don't want you to think that it is all puppies and rainbows, Kiddo. We have our moments. Like today, when you did not want to leave the babysitter's because of the cool "toos" and "boos." In my head, I knew that you only wanted to stay and play longer, but in my heart, I already felt that I wasn't enough. And it made me want to freeze time. And keep you as my little girl.

    

Eating Words

Before I became a mother, there were certain things I said I would never do:

Go to the bathroom with a random nurse in the room.
Let my kiddo nap on her tummy.
Consider mac and cheese a meal for my child.
Keep a binkie after a year old.
Catch puke with my hands.
Catch poop with my hands.
Send the kiddo to bed with a cup.
Consider pink and purple as acceptable clothing and paint options.
Let my child go barefoot in public.
Take my child out in pajamas.
Let my child out of the house with messy hair.
Enjoy open mouth, slobbery baby kisses.
Enjoy shopping for her more than shopping for me.
Wear a shirt that has some baby pee on it because I was running too late to change.
Look forward to going to bed at 9 (myself)
Consider cereal or pop tarts an acceptable dinner for me.
Cry when I left the baby with a sitter for the first time.
Leave without make-up on and my hair fixed.
Wear jeans twice without washing in between.
Cosleep.
Be too tired for ice cream.
Give my child medicine if she doesn't meet the age requirement.
Consider being a stay at home Mom.




Does this make me feel like a failure? Nope. It makes me feel like "Mommy."

The Snowball Effect

I'm not talking about a cold nose or a sore face from catching one in the kisser (though, if that is a concern of yours as your children age, I recently came across a "safe snowball maker." So when your kids play in the snow, rather than making those dangerously deadly hand-packed snowballs, you can use this hand snowball maker to make soft, safe snowballs).

I'm talking about how when you get behind on one thing, you can't seem to catch up. And you get more and more and more behind, till eventually you decide it isn't even worth trying to get back in the swing of things.

I have not read any blogs in about a month. And I keep telling myself I'll get caught up, but even though I haven't been posting as frequently, I know my reads have been, and at this point, I wonder if I should go back and read the old posts, or simply pick up where they are. Or just not worry about it.

And, my daily document project. Yeah, that lasted almost a month. Maybe. But I love taking photos and showing off my kiddo. But really, it's just one more thing that I start and don't finish.  Like knitting. I have about 6 projects currently going. And, when I'm out and I find a really nice yarn, I buy it, because I would like something in that color, or I have a pattern that totally screams "Your sister would love this!" And now, I have a plethora of yarn, and haven't picked up knitting needles in about 6 months.

Or cleaning my house. When I'm so far behind on the dishes, what difference does it make to just add one more to the sink instead of washing it?

But, I have to keep telling myself that the slack I leave behind is picked up by the hubs. And he has so much on his plate, it isn't fair for me to keep piling dirty plates on.

So, my house isn't as clean as I like it. I have a bunch of unfinished projects. I don't know how any of my reads are doing. My camera hasn't been taken out of my bag in ages. But, tonight, I snuggled with Ansley. We rocked. We exchanged nose kisses. We laughed. We snuggled some more. And as I stood there cradling her ever growing body, and her eyelids got heavier and heavier, I can honestly say I wasn't thinking about everything that needed to be done. Because in that moment, I was doing exactly what I needed to do.

Anticipation

You wanna know something? A few weeks ago, when the anxiety attack was looming, I had several thoughts on my mind.

One of the many being "Ansley will be 2 in September. People are already starting to ask. When do we add another?"

I'm not saying that that one thought brought on the issue, but I am saying that one thought has plagued me. For some time.

I LOVE being a mom. More than I thought I would. I love laughing with (and, honestly, at) Ansley. I love listening in on her conversations with her lovie and toy kitchen. And I know that I have enough love to add another arrow to the quiver.  That honestly used to be a fear of mine. I was concerned that I wouldn't love a second kid as much as the first. Crazy, no?

Anywho, I think I've got this parenting thing figured out, and I would go through labor and delivery again in a heartbeat. But it's getting to that point that makes me feel like I'm gonna pee my pants.

I didn't have a rough pregnancy, per se. But I did deliver 5 weeks early. And why? My doc was concerned that I was developing preeclampsia. Are you starting to see where this is headed?

Overall, I enjoyed being pregnant. I loved the baby kicks, and when I remember what that was like, I feel almost ready to throw caution to the wind. When I hold a little baby that snuggles into my neck, and offers one of those early smiles in my direction, I melt.

But, when I remember the fear of that morning when I saw the blood, and the following panic that ensued when my water broke, it's enough to make me want to stop right here, and practice the only 100% effective prevention of pregnancy (hello? I'm an abstinence educator. Remember?) When I remember having to scrub my arms and hands before going to sit by my baby's bedside, and the time that I couldn't hold her, and the first glimpse I had of her all covered in sensors and tubes and tape and an IV in her head, I'm ready to throw in the towel.

Because that was too much for me. And, maybe that's part of why I'm experiencing all this right now. Because I don't know that I really experienced it then. I had to be strong. It was expected. I was too tired to know what the correct emotions were. But now, now I'm experiencing all of them.

And I'm not sure I can go through that again. And I know I shouldn't feel like I have to. And, I don't. Not really. But there's still part of me that knows that people are anticipating the facebook post. Or the announcement at work, or the slight little bulge around my belt line (which, honestly, right now peeps its because I recently had a date with two very old and dear friends I hadn't seen in a very long while. Remember Ben and Jerry? Yeah, we hung out a few nights ago.).

And so, I wait. With the same anticipation. I wait, hoping that eventually, I'll know the right answer. And whatever that answer is, I'll trust that others will know that it is what is right. Even if they think I should have 10 kids.

At least, my primary care doc thinks I should have 10. My OB disagreed. He thought I should probably limit it to 6.

But right now, we're good. With one.

Hanging Out

I'm still here.

And I'll be right back. Soon.

Promise.

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Too good to be true

So much for waking up normal. Yeah, it didn't happen.

This sucks.

Too much

Is it possible for postpartum depression to hit more than a year after the child's birth?  Or, rather, anxiety?

The last two days have been hell. In fact, I don't even know how I'm able to sit here and type. I'm shaking, but not cold. I'm uneasy. I can't relax. Tonight isn't as bad as last, but it's still really difficult. And I don't really know what triggered it.

But it was too much for me last night. And I had to call Paul home. Because I was scared. And this morning, I woke up and called the doctor first thing. Because I had to get in.

And he saw me. Of course, I got the normal talk. Non-medicated verses medicated, or a combo of the two. Importance of exercise and sleep. And that I'm just wired this way, and it can't exactly be "fixed." Or simply "go away."

But I'm still scared. I'm scared about Paul going to work tomorrow. I'm scared because right now, my brain is running 1,000 miles an hour and I can't control where it is going. And I don't like that. I don't like where it's taking me.

I don't like that right now, I'm pounding out something on the keyboard while my husband plays with our daughter. I don't like that I can't settle down. I don't like that this feels like a spiral that I can't escape. I don't like that for 2 days now, I've felt like I can't function on my own.

Somewhere inside of me, I know this is ridiculous. I know that there is no reason for this. Which makes it that much more difficult. Because I want to make it stop. I want to make this go away. I want to be able to breathe deep breaths, enjoy a warm bath and cozy up with the hubs.

But instead, I'm clutching the hubs. Holding on for what feels like dear life. Because right now, he has the strength I need. He can function for me. And he can hold me, making me feel somewhat normal.

So, after stepping away for a few hours, I've ended the night, and it feels somewhat normal. I took some time to rock the kiddo, while she took some time to dance a little gig to the tunes that were playing softly. And I took that bath, finding a good book to start reading.

And now, I feel a little more normal, sitting in my fuzzy pink and white polka dot robe, as the hubs shuts down the house for the night.  And I'll snuggle in, hoping that when I wake tomorrow, normal will still be here, waiting for me to greet the day.

The white stuff

No, I'm not referring to that parody by Weird Al. Besides. NKOTB? Totally had the Right Stuff.

No. I'm talking about that powdery, white, wet, fluffy goodness that seems to have found its way into my yard again.

I'm talkin' snow, y'all!

Here's the thing. I think EVERYONE (ok, maybe not everyone. But everyone except for, like, three people) I know is totally sick of snow. Tired of winter. Wishing for spring. Longing for sunshine.

I do miss those bright rays we've been missing as of late, but I welcome the snow. Because we don't have a spring here. We go straight from winter to 80 degree days. Then to 90 degree days with like 97% humidity. And, me no likey.

Here's the thing. If it's going to be cold and wet, I would rather it be cold and wet with snow. I despise cold, rainy days. Nothing makes me want to crawl under the covers and sleep away the day more than cold, rainy days. But, snowy days? They mean playing outside with Ansley. Staying home from work. Throwing a snowball at the hubby. Hot chocolate with marshmallows. Hats. Scarfs. Sweaters. And brightness.

And a reminder of what was done on a cross for me so many years ago.

But soon, in just a couple weeks, really, the word "snow" will no longer be a part of local vocabulary for about 11 months.

People complain of the snow. The frustration that comes with travel difficulties. Of the cold. My opinion? I can always put on more clothes. I can snuggle.

But, when it's hot? There are only so many clothes you can take off. And then, my friends, you are naked.

And risk getting your booty sunburned.

So, I ask you, in all honesty. A sunburned booty, or a cozy scarf, some hot chocolate, and a fuzzy blanket while enjoying a day off of work.

Exactly.

this is HUGE

I mean, GINORMOUS. 


You really have no idea.  Do you remember the Sweet Harper Holidays giveaway?  That was huge. This is, well, off the charts I suppose.

Sweet Harper introduced me to Giddy Up and Grow. Super cute headbands and trinkets. I luff.

Giddy Up and Grow introduced me to Laura Winslow Photography. Aside from having absolutely stunning photographs, LWP has a stellar giveaway for the next week.

Are you ready for this? You may want to go grab an extra pair of pants because you are going to pee your current pair from the excitement. Seriously.

LWP has a giveaway. A giveaway for 61 shops. $2,600 worth of certificates and free goodies. FOR ONE WINNER.  And some of it? Props for photography. Just what a budding photographer might need if she were to, um... try to start something on the side hoping it would turn into something in the front??? Maybe???

So, head on over to Laura Winslow Photography and hit it up. Lots of ways to enter. Lots of goodies to be won.

Don't say I don't watch out for you, m'kay?

Am I really that insensitive?

It's beautiful out today. GORGEOUS, really.

So I opted to take the kiddo on a walk in the sunshine. We're walking along, with Ansley wearing her hot pink sunglasses which are too big for her head but apparently the sun was just too much for her today.

Anywho, she's still in her clothes from church.

So, we pass this couple with a little boy, prolly about 3 years old. I'm pretty sure he had just been to the park playing and that's why his face and clothes were dirty.

I'm not talking "Oh, that kid really enjoyed his lunch" kinda dirty. I mean dirt-dirty.


As we pass, the young mother looks at my kiddo, saying "She's really pretty."  To which I respond "Oh thanks. See ya later!"

::gulp::

Seconds later I realized I should have said something about her kid. "Man, he sure is healthy," or "He looks like he's a keeper," or "Bet he keeps you busy." But, no. Instead? I thank her for her comment about my child, and say "See ya later."

Total.utter.complete.loser.of.a.person.fail.

What was I thinking? For real?

So much for finding time to blog more.  We are just beyond busy at this house.

With a kiddo that refuses to sleep, a hubs that works about 20 hours overtime AND attends classes, and me who is too far behind to even think about working ahead, we are functioning on the bare bones here.

We are going on about 4 months of Ansley not sleeping well. We get about one night a week where she will sleep straight through, but even that is becoming more of a rarity.  I keep telling myself that this is all because ALL her teeth decided to come in at once. Seriously. We've had at least one tooth cutting since 13 months old. At times, we've had as many as three.  We're up to 6 teeth completely in with her cutting two more as we speak type.

So, I've thought of a possible solution to this problem. I think we are going to transition Ansley to a toddler bed. Very soon. Because as it is now, she wakes up, and if we want her to go back to sleep in her bed, it's about an hour to get her to sleep, with her waking again about 2 hours later. So, we put her in our bed.  And I'm so over it.

Now, before you start hassling me about how she's only waking up at this point to get into our bed, I KNOW. But there comes a point were sleep is more precious than insisting that your kiddo stay in her own bed.  And crying it out? Yeah, she's gone for a whole hours without letting up.

So, here's my plan. Move her to the toddler bed, gate her door so if she does wake up she is free to play herself back to sleep, and if she decides to cry, Mommy will go crawl in bed with Ansley. Once Ansley is sawing logs, Mommy goes back to her own bed. Hence, no more Ansley in my bed.

Hopefully.

That is the plan.

The only foreseeable hiccup? If Mommy falls asleep in Ansley's bed too.  Which, at my current state of exhaustion, is a very likely possibility.

Until then, I have an ever growing list of housework that needs to be done. And after last weekend's little mouse adventure, I feel like I need to scrub every surface of this house with bleach. Especially my pots and pans, which little mousey friend left little presents in. Fabulous.

Leave.

I just saw a mouse. In.my.kitchen.

::shutter::

I want it gone, but I'm a little sad at the methods of removal.

Think happy thoughts.

Ahh.

I'm baaaaack! (For a second I thought I typed "I'm Barack." It's been a long time.)

Ok, no more photo-only posts. For realz. Well, maybe a few every now and again.

For the first time in my life, I live in a house with internet access. Ok, maybe not exactly. For a few years in high school, my family had WebTV. Do you remember those? The first of it's kind, allowing you to access the internet on your television. Wireless keyboard. E-mail. Awesome.

But, here I sit, in my dining room, enjoying me some wireless. And, no, it's not because my neighbors finally paid their bill and got their internet turned back on.  It's because with the hubs back in school, and the recent removal of our data plans on our cell phones, we now have our own internet!  Fabulous.

So, I'll catch up on my readings. And, more importantly, my writing.  I've felt so cooped up having to tap out posts on my phone, that I've really been discouraged about blogging at all. And, I've felt it.

But now, rather than write about the wealth of things that we have experienced in the past couple of months, I'm going to take a shower.

Because I haven't. In, like, 2 days.

And I'm starting to smell myself.

Monday

Sleeping on the job.

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Sunday

Cheering on Da Bears.

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Saturday

Sharing her yogurt...

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Again

It snowed again tonight.

See? All this in, oh, bout 4 hours.

At this rate the schools will be canceled within the hour.

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Behind the ball

That is a Christmas card. Still displayed, along with many others, in my dining room.

I know, it's sad, really.

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Make yourself comfortable

This is my dog, Bunker. This is where I found him. Sleeping. On the clean laundry.

Give an inch and he takes a mile.

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Teeth!

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The One Where I'm 15 Again

That's right. Tonight I broke down and spent a small fortune on acne cleanser.

Because despite being 27 (gasp! That's the first time I've written that), I have acne like a Bieber-maniac.

And the ONLY thing I've ever found to work- not including birthing a baby- is this stuff. But I've been too cheap to dish out the dough since I have to pay for it.

But when I got to thinking, it is cheaper than having another baby, and is much more friendly on the body. And it doesn't take 9 months to work.

Hopefully.

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Mongols

Tried a new restaurant tonight. It was the highlight of my evening.

Baltimore lost.

Atlanta didn't even show up.

But dinner was good.

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Loss

So, earlier today, I wrote this massive blog post for my friday confession. I actually poured my heart out about some things.

And I waited to publish it. Because it needed editting. And refining. And it didn't save.

I'm far too tired to rewrite it now. And tomorrow? The moment may have passed.

I'm sure it will resurface. It always does. And I'll write again. But right now, I'm going to bed. Because it has been a long day, and my finger is tired of typing on my phone.

And Ansley will probably wake up soon.

Unless tonight is a repeat of last night- The Night of Epic Sleep. Ansley went down at 9, and did not stir until 8 this morning.

::Bliss::

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Crazy dog.

Remember Rufus? He's much bigger now, and a total cuddle bug.

And on tuesday night, he caught a little mouse that ran into my kitchen.

And, he ate it. Whole.

::shutter::

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Tonight

I colored. And I enjoyed it. Princess book and all.

Yeah, I'm cool like that.

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Ice ice, Baby

Tuesday. Awesome. Does make me think of that episode of Grey's Anatomy though.

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Happy birthday!

Ok. I'm a little late with some pics. But, see that??? It's the first 4 inches of 8 total that fell on Monday.
And, it's still there. Well, most of it, at least.

Living in the south means I'm not sick of it yet. In fact, I hope we get at least one more snow this winter.

Bliss.

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Finished product

It is the end of the day. My hair has been napped on, wind blown and tugged on. But, it's much shorter & easier to manage. Whew.

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oh, Grandparents

Today, Ansley had junk food. Lots of junk food.

We headed over to my parents' house to watch the Seahawks show the Saints Who Dat is.

Anywho, I love my parents dearly, but they take the title "grandparents" to mean "spoil the kiddo and get her all hyped up like a spider monkey on mountain dew."

Tonight, Ansley enjoyed chocolate milk shake, pink lemonade (ok, I gave her the lemonade, but it was super watered down), twizzlers, a spoonful of peanut butter, french fries, ice chips, water, and crayon. Granted, the crayon wasn't given to her to eat, but it may as well be an assumption with a toddler.

I suppose an evening of a few junk food treats isn't bad every once and a while. But, for realz, she had me rollin with laughter. Super cute dance moves, big belly laughs and an intense determination to eat a yellow crayon.

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Celebration

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Lame-o

I know I haven't had a post with any substance in a while. But, seriously. I've just been so busy. And I've come to really be thankful for the fact that I've been able to update the blog from my phone.

It's been brilliant, really. Quickly upload a picture, write a post all in the car. Or while waiting in line at the grocery store. Cause, let's be honest. There is only so many times I care to read about a cat fight between Jen and Angelina, and I'm pretty sure if Elvis was still alive, other magazines would know, not just the National Enquirer.

Anywho, with all that being said, in an effort to be more "financially responsible," the hubs has decided I should part with my Droid.

It's a sad day really. Because the reason I started daily document back up was because it was so simple to do now. I didn't have to upload to my computer and all that jazz.

But, I know that the hubs really does have our best interest at heart. Really, in the grand scheme of things, having heat and a house is much more important than me updating the blog. At least, that's what I've been told.

Have you given something up because your hubs or someone else felt it needed to happen? Did you survive? Do you have any advice? Honestly, I know it isn't a big deal, and I'm really just being a baby about it.

But I haven't complained in a while, and felt it was due time.

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Goodbye

Don't judge my messy bathroom. It's time for the hair to go. Tomorrow. Noon.

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NomNomNom

I cooked dinner tonight! And spaghetti? Never fails. Ansley will pack away as much, if not more than me.

But it sure is messy.

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The one where I'm an idiot.

Cute shoes, no? I luffs them. Three inch heels in a cute plaid. The best part? I only paid $3 for them!

However, they are half a size too small. So, imagine the pain in my little toesies after wearing them to work today after 11 days of strictly flats.

Ooh.

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Back to Work

Seven business days. 11 total. 11 days where we were able to make a new schedule. Where I was there for both naps, and most afternoon naps included one of my own. Meals with the hubs. Extra time with family. A joyous visit with my sister. Family photos. Good food. Bones. New toys. Christmas.

It was a wonderful time at home. Most times, I feel that after such a long break, I'm ready to get back. To get back to the office. To conversations that are about more than which shape matches this. To get back to heels and dress pants, makeup and fixed hair. But this time, things are different.

I've never felt such a pull to stay at home. Even though I love my job, the extra time with the hubs and the kiddo has been spectacular. Fabulous, really. But we've made choices, and right now, those has put us here.

Four years at a private college? School loans. A hubs that is finishing his degree, 2 cars, cell phones, a mortgage and a partridge in a pair tree. Could we make cuts for me to stay home? Yes. But right now, it would mean downsizing. Selling the house. Renting. We've already cut out a lot of things. No satellite or cable. No home phone. No internet. Single ply toilet paper and generic cereal. Actually, I'm a total TP and name brand cereal snob. But, if it meant I could stay home...

Maybe I'd give up the cereal. But my tushy likes the cooshy.

So, tomorrow I go back to work. I'm hoping for a smooth transition for all involved.

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Sleepy Girl

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Cool hair, dude!

Don't worry, that's not my leg. Though, to be completely honest, I have been going a few weeks between shavings, & maybe a little more recently, and my legs were rivaling those of the hubs.
Anywho, today before the hubs went to work, Ansley enjoyed a quick lean-to tent.

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I'm Doing It.

Now that I have a cool phone, I can upload pics straight to the blog. That, combined with the fact that I love to set unreal expectations for myself, I'm gonna try this whole daily document thing again.
So, this picture? It's the view from my couch, where I've planted myself the past few days, recovering from a yucky stomach bug.
Yes, my Christmas tree is still up. It'll come down next weekend. Probably. If not, you'll see this picture again. Except with fewer needles on the tree, and more on the floor.

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