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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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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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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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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A Sparkle

So, for those of you that are just sitting on the edge of your seats wondering what is going on, I think I'll give you just a sneak peek just to shed a little light on recent circumstances.

Basically, I've just been overwhelmed. But, what it really comes down to is that I'm selfish and things haven't been simple, and so I've felt overwhelmed.

For instance, after 13 months sans toothers, the kiddo has decided to get them. ALL.AT.ONCE. Which leaves me wondering why Dante never mentioned this as the 11th circle of hell.  My conclusion? He obviously was without children, because if he were to have them, he certainly would have included additional circles. Forget the thieves and murders. That circle is nothin'. Come visit teething, INSANE diaper rash, irritability, lack of sleep and learning the word no, then come talk to me, m'kay?

I've had a bad attitude at work, and of course, it has lasting consequences.  Top that off with a not-so-wonderful employee review, and I've not wanted to be there.

And, I'm really not doing well with the hubs working 2nd shift. Luckily, Hopefully, the hubs will be moving to first shift in a few short months. I know that it means that Ansley will be with a sitter more than she is now, but I really think it will be a major improvement for our family.

And, the last stress? I totally brought upon myself. I thought it would be a great idea to MAKE presents for Christmas. Which would be, if I started more than two weeks ago. And, I'm just not finished. And, honestly, I get home and just decide to crash, er... play with the kiddo for a few hours before bedtime. Except this week, which I've opted to spend those after-work hours with my sis and brother-in-law.  Totally worth it (hopefully she'll agree when she gets an unfinished Christmas present).

But, there has been a silver lining. I'll share just a sneak peek, and I'm planning a review VERY soon (if I was a cool person, I would say that I had a giveaway to go with the review, but I'm just not that awesome).

So, behold. The glory of Modern Bird Studios: 



GAH!! Is that not pee-your-pants beautiful???  For those that care, please don't think I neglected your opinions on photos. I sent several pics for Greg (the artist hand of MBS) to work with, and this one was the finished product.  ::Squee!!!::

Dealing

I'll be back, I promise. But right now, there's just so much going on, I'm struggling to deal appropriately. Christmas, work, a short visit with my dear sister and lack of quality time with the hubs have sent me into a bit of a headspin.

Interestingly enough, it was just about this time last year that I was overwhelmed with anxiety.

So, if you pray, do so, and if you have some extra puppies and rainbows available, I would appreciate those as well.

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::Yawn::

I'm waning. Like, seriously.  I'm running out of words. Out of stories. Out of time.

I LOVE to write. By far, one of my favorite things to do.  I wasn't a stellar news reporter, but I got to be pretty good at writing stories.  My only problem was that many times, I wasn't too interested in what I had to write about. And, I think that's what makes a good writer: the ability to write a comprehensive, interesting story in something you yourself are not at all interested in.

Like a goat. That has 4 babies. Apparently, that is a rarity. And me traveling about 45 minutes to snap some pics and write a feature? Also a rarity. But it did happen.

I've also written stories about accidents that have killed toddlers, schools that are over crowded, students that hang out with senior citizens and dozens about a small local town whose board meetings are full of so much drama they are only rivaled by a good episode of Jerry Springer.

But even with years of training in writing, and a mind full of thoughts, sometimes it's just hard to put something one paper, er..., the computer screen.

We all have those days. Some of us seem to have those months. Just a few minutes ago, I was checking through my blogger feed and noticed many that haven't been updated in months. Some good reads, that I'm left wondering, "I wonder what's going on with that kid."

And, I ask myself, "I wonder when life will become too much for me that I can't find the time and sit to write. To share in some of the laughs, and just to vent about what's going on."

I know that this blog isn't a regular read to many, but it is to a few (hi Mom, Crystal and Amanda!). And it's a way for family, spread all across the nation, to keep up, since I'm so horribly a failure at communicating via phone. And, sometimes, the humor and wit comes out, but other times, there's a lull.

But that doesn't at all mean that I'm giving it up. So, unless you no longer see my blog in your feed, I'm still around. Because when I'm done, this will be too.

P.S.- I had to go back and edit this post several times because I kept calling the blog feed the "feeder." And those sentences just seemed weird.

What is happening to me?

Ya'll, I've got it. Bad.

Before I start the post (I guess, technically, it's already started, but, just go with it), I should probably throw out a disclaimer.  I love where I am right now in life. I love my husband more than the average high schooler is in love with Lil Wayne or Ke$ha (seriously? Ke$ha???). My daughter is a barrel on monkeys, and so much more fun.  But...

So last night, we were busting out the Christmas decorations. I LOVE this time of the year (even if Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday and I refuse to move on to Christmas until the wishbone has been snapped and the football played, I LOVE this time of year).  But, it wasn't cheerful. It wasn't full of our traditional "Elf" followed by rockin' some Christmas tunes, all while sprinkling holiday cheer all throughout the house, including the back of the toilet (yeah, that's right. If you're gonna sit on my toilet, you're gonna enjoy some Yuletide cheer while doing so).

We went to pick out our tree from the local home improvement store. And, I felt rushed. Which is NOT cool.

For those of you that may sport the faux tree, you probably don't fully understand the task of picking a real tree. I'm not knockin' you at all. I simply mean that if your tree is a little bare in one area, you can bend the metal infused branches and voila! Your tree is full!

For those of us that opt for a large, moulting, dead tree (hmm, doesn't sound so magical when you put it that way) beautiful, crisp, pine-scented frazier- or douglas (I'm not a hater)- fir, finding a tree is the first battle of many that you fight.

Picking a tree? A LONG process, often involving multiple men to hold the 10-foot-trees side by side, turning, modeling, trading trees, moving to the 8 footers, turning, swapping, switching, looking, leaving, coming back, wash, rinse and repeat. That's the way I roll.

But, last night, not so much. The hubs insists that he was not trying to pressure me into "picking a stupid tree and leaving" (quotes mine). And, I believe him. However, even if it wasn't his intention to pressure me, his demeanor, along with the snotty-nosed whining kiddo that was trying to climb up her daddy's leg, caused me to make a hasty choice. Let me just add that it is a good thing that I had great friends in high school whose only "pressures" on me involved participating in some dumb skit (say, dancing to NKOTB on video) or buying matching shoes (yeah, I was a nerd.). Actually, who am I kidding? I love NKOTB even to this day.

Where was I? Oh, yeah. The tree.  Which, is currently still on my front porch because I didn't get enough cleaned to bring it in last night.  But, what's my point (I'm actually asking myself the same thing. Right.Now.)

The point is, as I was unpacking the Christmas tubs, I was thinking "what IN THE BEAUTIFUL WIDE WORLD convinced me that this was  beautiful decoration? I'm not a fan." Last night, I felt ashamed to decorate my house with said decorations.

Like I said before, I LOVE my hubs. And he is totally a kid at heart, which warms my soul. Just the other night, he was laughing so hard at Home Alone, I seriously thought he was going to stop breathing. I really do love it. Many of our Christmas decorations reflect our youth, and the excitement that comes with the season. We have very colorful, glittery, Santas all over the house. We've got partially melted snowmen, nutcrackers, nativity scenes with little children as the characters (actually, now that I think about it, those are a little more disturbing than simply being tacky).

My tastes have changed. I think I'm finally growing up! I'm beginning to like classic decorations like burlap and lace. And white lights that don't blink. And having a CLEAN house! And Willow People, of course:



Beautiful, no?  I like the simple things, without a lot of sparkles.

And I felt horribly guilty. Because I felt like it meant that I was not thankful for what I have.  WHICH IS NOT THE CASE. Our current decor is very special to me, as it was collected during our first years of marriage and is very representative of where we were at the time. But, I think it's time I finally grew up. And, I understand that just like my tastes didn't change overnight, I'm not going to get where I want to be quickly either. I've got to look to a very wise man for direction:

I got it one piece at a time, 

and it didn't cost me a dime.

Thank you so much for that advice, Johnny Cash.  I'll take it (minus the whole stealing a car one piece at a time). Oh, and, I'll pay for it.

So, I invite you to join me on this journey. This journey of shedding my glittery Santa figurines (along with my Aeropostal clothes, which, it happens to be pretty embarrassing when you are wearing the same shirt that one of your middle school students is wearing) and stepping into a more clean, classic holiday look. Basically, it's finally time for me to put on my big girl pants.

Shall we continue?

This RARELY happens.

Ya'll, I'm at a loss. A loss for words. I don't have anything to write about. Maybe I should say I don't have anything to complain about!

The kiddo has slept the last two nights.  I'm not counting my chickens before they've hatched, but this is a good start.  She's been going down relatively easy, and sleeping right on until about 8:15! Fabulous, really.  Only, I'm thinking it's a total fluke.

She didn't get to bed before 9 those nights. In fact, due to an office Christmas party that- as awesome as free dinner and a Christmas bonus is- went a little long. We're talking three hours, putting the kiddo in bed around 9:45.

Secondly, winter has hit with a vengeance. I'm talking 70 degrees on Thanksgiving, and 42 degrees less than a week later. We've also had two days of cold, pouring rain. Which means at 6:20, when the sun is normally peeking through the clouds and warming the cheeks of my little chipmunk, her room has remained drab and dim.

However, she hasn't been waking at midnight, which is where most of our troubles originated.  Remember when I complained about her waking at 6:20?  Well, I'll take it. As long as it means Ansley sleeps from the hours of 12 a.m. to 4 a.m.

AND, she's stayed in her bed those nights!  Squee!!! But, like I said, I'm trying not to get too excited, because she can easily pull a fast one on me!

I need help

In many ways.

So, you know how I won the MBS gift certificate? I have NO idea which picture to use, and even where to put it. I seriously want your help.

This post will include some possible photo options and locations for the artwork.  I need you to leave me a comment telling me how to decorate my house.

This isn't www.birthornot.com, but it is an opportunity for you to make a difference which doesn't involve voting if a couple should keep or terminate their pregnancy.

These are the locations:

Excuse the laundry basket to the right. This is the living room. That photo above the fireplace? Yeah, it was  a last minute purchase before a Christmas party a few years ago.  It's not my fav, but it does what it is supposed to do: take up space.

This is the long, sad hallway leading to Ansley's room. It needs something.  My concern with putting MB here? It won't be seen and oogled over enough.

This is a spot in the dining room. It needed something, so I grabbed these little plaques, but they are so small, they kinda look lost in the mix.

Still in the dining room, but should I move my bridal portrait?

Another spot in the dining room. However, this spot is not visible from the living room. It does have some great lighting though.

 So, those are the possible locations. By default, I'm leaning toward over the fireplace in the living room, but think that would require a larger piece than the hubs may be willing to help pay for.

Now, the so-stinkin'-hard-I-actually-lost-sleep-last-night difficult part.  The picture.

A beautiful shot from our wedding. Except, hubs has a new ring now.

A classic pic of my 3-week-old. My concern with having a pic of  Ansley is that I'll have to get one for each kiddo. Which,  I'm ok with.

Ahh, me and the hubs.

This one is kinda fun

Classic pic on the beaches of Puerto Rico

I simply love this picture.

Hmm. Maybe I don't like this one afterall.

If I pick a holiday specific picture, would it be ok to display it around the year?

Yum. Flower.

Beautiful picture, but nothing in my house is beachy.

Same concern about being season specific.

I like this, but don't like the carseat in the background.

So, do you see my problem??  Please, suggest a picture. Make this easy for me. I wish I had a beautiful picture of mother/daughter, but I just don't. I don't like to be in pictures, and I'm beginning to realize that is a sad thing.

So, help me. Leave me a comment. Give me advice. Tell me I'm a meany for not having a beautiful print made for my parents. Just tell me which picture I should use!

Never crossed my mind.

Hubs: I don't really like these daipers.

Me: I know they are a little more expensive but they fit her better.

Hubs : No, I just don’t like the design.

Me: What’s wrong with the design?

Hubs: Pooh is sliding down a pole on the crotch of the diaper.

True story.

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People...

...I'm proud of

My father and mother, Dad, for being the strength of our family, Mom, for teaching me the in-and-outs of mommyhood, and both of them for sticking with the other for almost 28 years now.
My sister, Crystal, for bucking the system and moving to a new place-across the country- with her hubs.
My other sis, Brandy, for working so hard and putting up with her husband :o)
My brother, for managing a job and school, and for always being willing to help out at home.
My husband, for working his butt off so me and the kiddo can have it pretty easy
My grandfather, for putting his life on the line and fighting for his country during WWII, and my grandmother, for supporting him from home
All those who serve our country in uniform: Soldiers, Police Officers, Fire Fighters, and those that support them at home
Volunteers at our office (even if they do occasionally sing Evanesence at the top of their lungs while sorting baby clothes)
People who break the cycle, and become more than what they came from
Missionaries
Parents of multiples
My bestie, for being willing to work multiple jobs to score an awesome camera (rather than putting it on plastic like I did with mine)
Another bestie, for patiently learning the ropes of having a nicu babe
Moms who finally make it our of the tunnel that is PPD
My in-laws, for raising such a wonderful son
Teenagers who encourage a handicapped kid to participate during class


... I'm not proud of
Lil' Wayne, because he is destroying our youth. Sorry to be a hater.
Cheaters (any kind- academic, political, personal)
Men who run away from the responsibilities of being a father
People who promise funding for 5 years and then withdraw it 3 years early
People who abuse animals
Teachers who are happy with tenure and don't care to teach
The creators and writers of "Family Guy"
People who don't own up to mistakes
Women who fall for any bum on the street because of "love," sacrificing all that is good for them
Teenagers who bully those who are different