Wednesday, December 4, 2013

Second Hand News

Hey this is fun!

I found some pictures of me trying on wedding dresses! Well, probably not fun for you, but I was thrilled to find these! I am still a little sick over not picking the first dress, however it was over $1000 more than the one I ended up getting. They are all Claire Pettibone as was the one I chose.

That was such a great day. I am so sad I deleted my wedding blog without importing my posts. I was just pregnant and mad and for some reason my wedding blog was punished.

Anywho, here are some gowns:


 


Dog Days Are ( NOT) Over!

"I switched to Blogger because I hate my breasts"

(crickets)

Um...yeah so that is what happened when I decided to try blogging with the voice activated thingy on my iphone. It is probably more interesting to read that than original sentence, which was supposed to be"I switched to Blogger because I hate Wordpress."

This gave me an idea to do some type of interactive MAD LIBS post.  Remember Madlibs? I recently bought a booklet from the grocery store or something and tried to get Chris to do it with me. He was like SO not interested, and kept saying stupid verbs and nouns that he knew would be lame, and it was basically not fun. So maybe it is not a good idea, however I want to try.  I have to figure out the logistics. Readers would  submit the words and then I would use a post ( new or old?) and substitute. I think it would be so funny. I will let you know as I think about it more! Or not.

I wish I had something else to talk about besides my kid, but I really don't. Everything I do revolves around her right now, because she is only 2 and she needs my undivided attention. When she is 10 I'm sure I will write about some other lame thing I am doing, but right now it's all Georgia all the time. I keep seeing posts about how people are ruining facebook by posting about their kids and whatnot, and I am wondering... what the cool kids are posting about?

I am a horrible DIY person. I can not give you tips on ways to improve your home, or cute crafts to make your house adorable, or how to make a tutu for your child. I did show pictures of my new bathroom, but all I did was go to the store, pick out tile and paint, and someone else did the dirty work. We saved no money on our project, so basically if you want me to tell you to go hire someone to do your home improvements...well okay! I can do that!

I am not on a diet, nor do I eat an organic gluten free diet, or have a recipe for sunflower seed ice cream, however I am working on toning my abs and arms, but no one really wants to read about that because for some reason posts and updates about working out/the gym bring out fits of rage and violence among facebook friends.

You can't post about doing something fun/funny,like dancing at a bar, because then people accuse you of trying too hard to act like you are doing something fun. Food pictures enrage people. If you look pretty and decide to take a picture of yourself,people get mad. If you look ugly people get mad, the list of anger inducing blogs goes on and on! The only thing safe to write about is your pet. Everyone loves pets. Except...me.

I know. I'm a big fucking jerk because my dog gets on my nerves. It makes me sad actually, because before I had Georgia, Buckley was the absolute apple of my eye. He was my son. I still call him my son actually, but damn. He is just so much extra work.

I think if I had gotten him like 4 months AFTER I had Georgia things wouldn't be so bad, but catering to him while I was an overwhelmed new mom was just infuriating to me. I was like " YOU ARE JUST A DOG!" omg. I'm pretty sure he started stress shedding after we had her, because I do not remember the dog hair in the house being the big deal that it is now. Well, it probably was the same amount, but it wasn't a big deal because what the fuck else did I have to do before G was born except vacuum dog hair?

Also, he became a fat, food obsessed glutton after G started eating solid food.

We never really gave him table food before that, but when she started eating, he would just sit under her high chair and eat the spilled food and before we knew it, we had created a MONSTER. He is now obsessed with food. He gulps his dog food down in one swallow, I can't even stand to watch him eat. This year we have spent over $1000 on him between his diet, an allergic reaction, skin infection,medication, and paying a foster family $55 a night to keep him over Thanksgiving week. For 4 days. Plus an extra $10 on Thanksgiving day.There goes the roof repair!

It is not all bad though. I did let him sleep with us last night and he was all cuddled up next to me snoring away. When Georgia woke up this morning she was about to start yelling about some horror I committed until she saw Buckley. She gave him the biggest hug and said," MOM, Buckley made me feel better!" She kissed and kissed him and was in the GREATEST mood ever until she realized he ate her chocolate advent calendar last night. But that is another story for another day.

I love the Buckster. I do.


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Friday, October 11, 2013

Tell Mama

I give up.

I surrender.

My white flag, a pair of granny panties haphazardly attached to a lonely old mic stand, waiving high in the air.

A symbol of defeat, a symbol of sadness.

A symbol of  old identity and new identity coming together as one sad, pathetic, almost middle aged lady wondering where the hell her tube tops and the boobs that used to look so fabulous in them went.

I tried. i thought I was better than this. I thought I could run faster than the flames of time that were lapping at my reflection as I pondered my new wrinkles, the new gray hair, my droopy bosom, and the weird ugly blood vessel spots on my face.

I wanted to break the mold. I THOUGHT I COULD REMAIN HOT FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE! CHILDREN BE DAMMED!

But now, I just weep.

Laser treatments, hair color, facial masks, Spanx and Victoria's Secret can no longer mask what I know to be the truth.

I am a 36 year old mother.

And I wear yoga pants.

I'm too tired to go out.

The thought of going  to a loud club or bar after 10PM makes me want to hide inside my own uterus.

I want to stay in with my daughter every Friday and Saturday night.

I don't care that my husband wears t-shirts that say " Maris street block party 2002"

And I need wine. Lots and lots of wine.

Thursday, October 10, 2013

Cry Cry Cry

My twin sister just wrote this post. 

I was devastated last night reading it. I couldn't breath, I couldn't even cry. I felt like someone punched me in my face. I could cry now just thinking about it. 

I feel guilty about crying, because no matter how terrible this makes me feel, Jill feels 1000000000 times worse. I shouldn't even have a "sad" button, because nothing I am sad about comes close to her sadness.

I cried on Tuesday because Georgia was constipated and couldn't poop, and was screaming and it sounded like I was torturing her. She was late for school and I was late for work. I wanted my mom to come over and help. This is like the worst thing going on in my life. meanwhile, my twin sister is all alone and thinking about a future too horrible to even make up or imagine, and I am crying because my kid can't shit today. I don't deserve to cry.

I don't know what to feel. I feel so guilty. Even when we are together without the children I can smetimes feel her thinking about Mason and what if she is missing his breakthrough moment? It makes my chest feel so heavy, and my stomach feel so empty, and my heart just breaks and breaks and breaks. Why did this happen to her? Why did this happen to Mason? What the fuck? 

We don't just sit around and act depressed, but her post last night really upset me. 

We do fun things, we go to karaoke bars, we have sister night and watch stupid movies, she calls me when Mason does something cool, I call her when Georgia does something cool. we go to brunch and we laugh a lot. It isn't all doom and gloom. But seriously, what the fuck?

I worry about Georgia too. I think of how shitty middle school girls are and I pray that she is nice and that everyone is nice to her, I pray that she always stays safe. I think about how many times as a young adult I got into a car I should not have gotten into because the driver was drunk, or all of the terrible decisions I've made throughout my life. Sometimes I can't believe I made it out alive. I am terrified. But, for the most part,I live in the bliss of ignorance. Nothing has happened yet. I can think about these things, but also dream big for her, because, well, why the hell not?

Mason already got in the car, so to speak. His car accident already happened. Jill can only go day by day. Mason's future is unknown. She can only mentally handle small periods of time, like, "Maybe one day he will be potty trained".

Life sucks. I hate when people say "special needs children go to special people" because WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?

My sister deserves to experience all of the joys a mother and son should experience during this phase of life and not have to fucking worry about if he will talk or if hes will able to us a bathroom, of if he will be able to live on his own. Some stupid phrase is not going to make anyone feel better, or special, or like they were hand picked by god to take on a fucking challenge.

If there is God, I pretty much hate him right now for doing this to my sister and nephew.

Tuesday, September 24, 2013

Pale Shadow

Saturday morning I'm laying in bed, I think it was around 6AM or 6:30AM. Georgia is awake and cheerful as usual.

"DADDYYYY!! IS THE SUN UP?"  SHe jumps out of the covers and climbs up on Chris. ( yes she sleeps with us). I'm still shocked! 

"Yeah Georgia, the sun is up!" Chris says back to her.

"That means it's AWAKE TIME! HORRAY!"

I'm just laying there like, OMG I could sleep for 5 more hours. This day can't be this exciting yet. Blaaahhhhh. Chris then asks Georgia if she wants to go downstairs, and surprisingly I hear her say, "No, I want to lay with Mommy. 

Awwwww, how totally adorable.

Zzzzzzzz...

 My eyes are still closed but I roll over for a little snuggle time. We were just laying there and I'm thinking she fell asleep. I feel like I am going to fall back to sleep, when all of a sudden I feel her little hand on my face. My eyes pop open and Georgia is GAZING at me. I mean like the most loving gaze that has ever looked upon these jaded eyeballs, and then she whispers, " Mom, you are my best friend. I am so proud of you." 

I was just...I can't even explain it. 

Okay, I am going to try to explain it.

Now, one would think that after an encounter like this with my two year old that I would have died and gone to heaven with Georgia... floating away on a cloud of love, with ice cream, unicorns, and glitter shooting out of our butts, but I actually experienced the opposite. 

It was like a cold bucket of TERROR had just been dumped over me and I wanted to grab her and put her in a little bubble that only I had access to. I wanted to save her  from everything. From growing old and dying. I felt sad and guilt ridden that I brought her into this shitty world,and terrified of the hurt and heartache she will undoubtedly encounter. 

I love Georgia so much that I want to die. It aches, it hurts, it terrifies me, it makes me feel out of control, and sometimes I can't breath.  I have no idea if other parents go through this feeling if crazy, but im guessing yes. It actually really sucks. 

To help me cope, I have to look on facebook and see pictures of my friends "being normal" with their children, or walk to the playground and be around other parents who are not standing guard ready to battle any raindrop or wind gust that dares come near their child. 

My importance in her life weighs heavily on me. It's huge to me.  It's the biggest deal ever. 

Everything about being a mom, from my positive pregnancy test, to this feeling of terror, has totally stunned me. At one point in my life I thought I did not want children. 

Um...Yeah ...so that was right up until I got that positive pregnancy test. 

Anyway, maybe being unprepared leads to these out of control feelings? 

 Blah. 

It's so scary...raising a child. I'm just one  ripped open, vulnerable, mess of a woman. Like, in an instant I became everything I spent years protecting myself from becoming for anyone. 

I can't think about it often. But I do sometimes. 

Do you? 



Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Sleeping Angel

According to parenting books, advice online, and  live feedback from others, I've done a disastrous job at forming good bedtime habits for my daughter. 

I admit, I took the lazy approach to bedtime, and did not stand my ground when Georgia began to protest right around the time she turned 2, mostly due to us taking away her binky.  Before that, putting her to bed was a dream most of the time. A story and a smooch, she was good to go! We never really had that sleep deprivation that people speak about when discussine new babies or newborns. Yes, the actual newborn age was hard, but it was not because we were not getting enough sleep.

So anyway. back to my lazy mom story. In March/April right after Georgia’s second birthday, we decided to quit the binky cold turkey...it was hell for three days. Like seriously.  My fist mistake was telling Georgia that I lost it.She frantically started searching under couches, in her toybox, in cabinets. "Mommy, please! Help me find binky!" she desperately cried while looking under the couch. I couldn't take the pathetic, sad look on her face. I LIED to her and she was asking for my help. Me. Her mother. The savior of all things gone wrong. 

My heart broke with guilt, and I desperately looked around for someone else to blame.

Um....sorry Buckley. 

"Georgia, it is not lost. Buckley ate it. I did not want to tell you, because I did not want you to be mad at Buck"

She stared at me, and I swear a moment of almost relief came upon her face..as if maybe there was a chance for her to find it!

She marches over to poor clueless Buckley.

"Buck, why you eat my binky?  Hey Buck, get my binky out of dere!"

Buck just licked her face, and she sort of gave me the side eye. I could tell she was mad at him. Oh brother!

"Mom why Buckee do dat?"

"It was an accident," I say.

"Member when I had accident I pooped in the bathtub?"

Great! An out to this binky conversation!

We being talking about how accidents are okay, and how they happen sometimes...blah blah blah...binky was forgotten for the day. 

But not at night.

Oh. My. God. The SCREAMING.

Georgia has never been a screamer. I can think of about 3 times where she had a real honest to god toddler temper tantrum. Usually when she is grumpy, she just TELLS me she is grumpy and asks “to relax on the couch”  

Relaxing on the couch consists of pillow, milk, and blankie, and mickey mouse clubhouse. We’re good to go from there.

So anyway, Chris and I were not used to this kind of behavior. We brought her in bed with us on the first night without binky, and just held her while she screamed and screamed, and screamed for hours…and hours… and hours…

"I’M GOING FOR THE BINKY RESERVE!" Chris yells at me over the wailing. I'm like crying  at this point because I don't know how to calm Georgia down and I could tell Chris was really upset which was making me more upset.

"NO!" I yell back.

‘ DON”T DO IT! JUST HOLD MY HAND!! WE’LL GET THROUGH THIS!!!”

Chris nods and we both just close our eyes and try to drown out Georgia's horriffic screams. "“MOOOOMMMMYYYYYY MY BINKKKYYYYY PLLLLEEEEASEEEEE MOMMY MOMMY HELP MEEEEEE HEEEEEELP MEEEEEEEEE!"  

hiccup hiccup, violent cough from crying so bad.

Jesus fucking christ? Where is the goddamn binky?

I jump up. Chris grabs my arm.

"Stay down! We'll regret it in the morning! JUST STAY DOWN!"

"DAAAAAAAADDDYYYYYY MOMMMMYYYYYY AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" ' AHHHHHHHHHHHHH" "AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH    HEEEEEELP..........!!!!!!!"

Then. Darkness.

Now it is dawn. Birds are chirping.

I peek open one eye. Georgia is sleeping. 

I look at Chris.

He looks at me.

We survived the first night without binky! Yippie.

So anyway, this exact same scenario happens for the next two nights. Ungodly screaming. It was never like this when she was an infant. It totally sucked ass.

On the fourth night, when I am rocking G and reading her story she puts her hands on my cheeks and says " Mama, can I sleep in your green room again?" 

I tell her yes, but remind her that there are no more binkys in my room. 

"No more binky. Buckley ate dem". 

Humm...this seems promising. I take her in my room and we fall asleep together.

And now, almost four months later, to the horror of good parents everywhere-my child sleeps in bed with my husband and me.

Now I can see where people are like WTF, she never slept with you and now you’ve gotten her into this bad habit at 2 years old.  I've even had a NON MOM shake her head at me and tell me this was "not good"

Here is the thing. What was really ( because let's call it what it was) a lazy attempt at parenting-I was too tired to deal with  the binky sadness, and screaming, has turned into the sweetest part of my life.

I love having Georgia in my bed at night. We pretend we are getting on a spaceship, we put on our pink space suits, we hide from daddy under the covers, we sing songs, we butterfly kiss. She seriously looks at me and goes, "mom, lets talk" and demands that we share a pillow. We pretend we are birds, we pretend we are butterflies. One night I told her to close her eyes and use her imagination to see Aunt Nancy's farm, and now she loves to "use her magination" to go to the beach, the farm, Grandma's house.

She is only two. I am NEVER EVER EVER going to get these years back. I have no idea what our future holds, and I cherish every freaking happy or sad minute I have with this girl and I want to desperately to remember it all, I wish that she could remember it all, but I know she won't and  I know I won't.

What I CAN hope for is that she remembers a feeling. A feeling  that I am lucky enough to remember. A feeling my mother gave me when I was REALLY little, probably around two or three. I don't remember specifics, but I remember lying in bed with my mom and feeling safe, and loved, and snuggled, and warm. Jill and I would fight over who was snuggling better, who she was looking at, who's arm she was rubbing. I remember loving my mom SO MUCH, and she was right there next to me, and it was the BEST FEELING EVER. 

I can’t force Georgia to remember any of this, or to think it is special, or  to cherish it.

 But *I*do. And  the "experts” and internet are really missing out.

When Georgia is 15 she is going to beg me to go to sleepovers, she is not going to want to hang out at our home or with me, and I am thankful that my decision to co-sleep with my daughter came out of  my laziness and need for sleep.

 

Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Whistle While You Work

I've spent two years in battle, and I cannot subject myself any longer to the exhaustion.

Not motherhood, not being a wife, not work, no diets to speak of....no. I have given up on KEEPING MY HOUSE IMMACULATE.

Now,I know that sounds stupid. I have a child. There is going to be shit (literally and figuratively) everywhere. It's just taken me two years to come to terms with the fact that my house is going to look like babies r us threw up everywhere.

I admit, before I had children, I winced when I would see a messy house with toys and shit thrown everywhere, crayon on the walls, a potty in the middle of the floor. i would think "holy fuck, those are some lazy ass people! Pick up some damn toys!"

Okay, well actually I never thought that, but it sounds very dramatc for this post-so I am going to keep it! In reality I only sort of thought that. If you remember, when I was looking for a jumperoo I searched high and low for a wooden or neutral colored one so it would match my furniture, and I have fought the good fight when it comes to toys in big, loud primary colors, disney character outfits, and princess shit. I've refused to give in to it, every night I was cleaning the crap out of my house putting everything just so, pottery barning my mantle, making sure my dining room table was catalague ready, vacuuming and mopping the hardwood floors every other day, and putting toys away so it looked like a child did not live in my house. I couldn't stand the clutter, I HATED how my house looked,  and I wanted to rip my hair out everytime I saw a dumb plastic toy on the floor.  

Fact is, I indeed have a child..who likes to play with toys. And a dog who sheds everywhere. And a dining room table that sometimes doubles as a laundry table. ...I just couldn't keep up. I tried. Seriously I did.

Also- has anyone noticed that all little girl toys have been totally trampified since we played with toys? Georgia has a Cinderella doll and she has on a mini skirt and has those big cartoon hoe eyes that used to be reserved only for Sailor Moon. And her My Little Hoe-nies..ahem..I mean PONIES. They are skinny, sexy unicorns with slut eyes. What happend to sweet Bluebell and her big ass? Even Minnie is more glamorous (Is that possible??).  I'm all for glamour and everything, but really am having a problem with all this little girl shit being sexified. I really didn't care about it when Georgia was born, and I do not have a problem with her doing girl things like playing dress up, or being a princess or wanting to have a tea party...but I don't get why my little pony is now ponirexic haand looks like she sticks her hoof down her her throat on a daily basis. Or why I saw a bathing suit for a 2 year old with a deep v-neck and cutouts at the sides?

Anyway, that has nothing to do with my house looking a mess, but seriously Toy Company CEO-get a grip! Stop tramping up the girl section will ya? There will be plenty of time for that in 20 years. But not now.

On a somewhat related note, Georgia pretends to shave her legs when she is taking a bath and asked me to wear make up. I told her she could wear make up when she turned 13, so when Chris came upstairs she said, "Daddy I am almost 13!" I'm sort of excited for that.

So anyway, that is my update. My hose is a mess, I still like to drink wine, I still wear my bootie shorts, and I still love 1977 Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham. 

 I'm still me except I'm a mom.

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

In Your Easter Bonnet

So I have been totally been getting SCHOOLED in the "daughter clothing department" throughout my first two years as a mother.

When I first envisioned bringing Georgia home from the hospital, I envisioned it to be something along the lines of a movie premier. Me, in a fabulous outfit, baby weight gone, holding my beautiful daughter in her first, very expensive dress from some store that I really can't afford. Flash bulbs going off, people crying... hysteria of new papal announcement proportions!!! I had seen my friends pictures on Facebook... eyes gleaming, holding their newborns, family by their side...out of the hospital and on to experience all of the GLORY that is motherhood!

Um..okay. What the fuck. That is not what happens. or that is not what happened to me anyway.

First of all, when I envisioned going home from the hospital, I did not envision wearing a HUGE maxie pad the size of P-Diddy's yacht, nor did I expect my stomach to look so totally disgusting. I also thought I would be able to at least put some make up on and do my hair.  And that someone would be ready with a camera to document the epic event.
Fail, fail, fail in all areas. My glamorous "going home" outfit was not to be. My hair was in a wet bun, and I was in my fucking pajamas. At least they were new.

On to Georgia's "going home outfit" It was from an adorable children's store called Dimples and Dandelions. It was like $80. The hat had an adorable flower on top, it was white, it looked so snuggly and NEW!!  My daughter would be seen as the most fashionable girl leaving the hospital. Mothers would look at me with wonder. "how is she so fabulous for being a new mother?!"
Not. She shit all over the white outfit within 4 seconds of wearing it because I did not put her diaper on correctly or something. She went home in a normal onsie and some pajamas. At least THEY were new.

Okay, now on to my hospital exit ( I know this part is not about clothes but just..I have to describe it) . It basically went like this.

Girl who did not want to be at work: Do you want a wheelchair?

Me: Um...I don't know.

Girl who did not want to be at work: SIGH (LOUD)

Me: Do people usually have wheelchairs?

Girl who did not want to be at work: Sometimes

Me: Um...that is okay. I can walk.

Girl who did not want to be at work: I recommend you get in the wheelchair.

Okay I get in the wheel chair. Now, about those "leaving the hospital" pictures. There needs to be someone to take them.

No one was there.

I was just like, wheeled out to the parking lot, holding my new baby in the car seat, terrified to put her in the car, Chris was terrified too and no help at all. We were like deer in headlights, the "girl" was just like "See Ya!" when we got to our car.

No outfit. No pictures. No postpartum glow. There was also a snowstorm. i was wearing Chris's puffy jacket.

$80 down the drain for a poop stained white outfit that no one ever wore.

Okay..you would THINK that I would have learned my lesson. But no! For her first Easter, I go to Janie and Jack and purchase her first Easter dress. Again, around $80.

Now you have to remember, at this point our budget had not really been affected by having a child. Mostly everything we needed was given to us at our shower, so to me running in Janie and Jack and purchasing a dress was NBD. I'm all like, "I don't understand why EVERYONE doesn't shop here! "

I seriously said that out loud and thought it, and I am embarrassed to admit it. But I'm being totally truthful. I like, thought that was going to be our way of life. Shopping there for every little sock.

Anyway. Georgia wears the Easter dress. She is in it. It's a little big, and it looked cuter on the hanger, but again, I am such a good mom because my child is STYLISH.  I pat myself on the back.

Ten minutes into Easter, she pukes. She craps. She screams. Exploding diarrhea everywhere. I am in the bathroom with her. I don't know what to do. Where do I put her? Can I put her on a floor? Do I need to find a changing table? how do I change a baby that is projectile vomiting?I put her in her pajamas.

Not a shit in sight after that.

Okay. Now let's move on to our trip to Cancun. She is 9 months old during this time.

I buy her an "airplane outfit". Ralph Lauren. I am sure you know what happens next.

 The pilot is getting the cabin ready for landing. Flight attendants are collecting drinks. I hear a bubbly fart sound that sounds like it came out of the bog of eternal stench. I take Georgia and run to the bathroom. There is a line. The people let me go ahead.

OMG I was sweating my girl balls off. I'm in the airplane bathroom. If I was worried about putting her on a regular bathroom floor, what the fuck am I supposed to do in the airplane?? OMGG ALL THOSE PEOPLE IN LINE!! Georgia is screaming her face off. I rip off her shitty Ralph Lauren "airplane outfit" and ...toss it in the trash can that leads to I have no idea where. There is shit all over her. Again. I have paper towel, baby wipes, she is shitting in mid air. I am trying to clean up the bathroom. I'm yelling "I'm so sorry" to whoever is left standing in line. I wanted to D.I.E.

i come out. No one is in line.

"It sounded very stressful in there, so everyone just sat down." A lady pats my hand and says to me. I must have looked like totally horrified, because another woman said, "Don't worry, we have all been there."

Airplane Outfit Fail.

Bathing Suit Fail.

I forgot to bring her Christmas dress to mexico. So I don't even know what would have happened, but okay another $50 down the tubes.

So then we are finally past the exploding shit phase. And she is crawling. YAY!!  She can wear her nice clothes!! No wait...boo. She is drooling all over everything. And her clothes are filthy because she is on the floor all the time. And learning to eat solids. Baby food all over the place.

OMG it just goes on and on.

I DID have success at her first birthday. I bought her a lovely outfit. She wore it. No mishaps. There are pictures...however I decided not to press my luck, and started shopping at thrift stores for clothes. You can get the good brands and over half price, she wore them once, and I didn't feel guilty. I was learning to budget...yes I envisioned everything to be  Pottery Barn , Janie and Jack, when now my reality was becoming Target and Thrift Stores. My own shopping habit was dwindling due to finances. I was shopping for things on SALE. ...this is a big deal for me.

But still! I could not give up my need to make my child pinterest ready! Now she can walk! I can dress her up the way I want! MUHAHAHAH.

No.

"I WANT THOMAS SHIRT!" I WANT YELLOW JAMMIES!! NOOO FANCY SHOES!! BAD DRESS! NO TIGHTS!!"

She wants to wear the same damn shirt every day. She hates all of the dresses I buy her.

She wants a Minnie Mouse Dress.

I buy her all these nice clothes, and she wants to dress like a fucking mouse.

FML.

Monday, January 28, 2013

Pinning and Winning!

So I have had a love hate relationship with pinterest. It has made me feel inferior. Like a bad mom. Disorganized, uncreative, and basically like I suck.

I loved looking at all of the cute ideas though. And the more I pinned, the more I told myself that no one was really recreating their pins. The world was filled with lazy pinners! Like me! I have nothing to worry about!

Until...my board called BATHROOM.

Chris and I decided to renovate our 2nd floor bathroom. it's really small, and kind of looked like a bathroom from the 80's. Okay, it WAS a bathroom from the 80's and as not to offend the previous owners (my grandparents!) I have to say that for 1980 whatever it was a perfectly acceptable bathroom. But for 2013...no.

Chris and I first went to some bathroom store to see what was out there, and I was so OVERWHELMED with everything, tiles, tubs, faucets, omg I had no idea what I wanted. There was too much to choose from! I couldn't decide on anything.

I went home and went on pinterest. I rarely ever pinned anything, I didnt really know what people were actually doing with their pins... I figured it was more like an inspiration board and that it would help me decide what I liked. Sure enough-a pattern started to emerge. Black and white. Subway tile. clean and sleek. yay! I knew what I wanted. Kind of. It was still hard to imagine that my bathroom could ever look like one of these cute bathrooms I had pinned. But-I have to say, I think i did a good job!
Here is the link to my Pinterest Board Bathroom

And here are some pictures of my newly renovated bathroom.I think pinterest was a HUGE help in organizing the look of what I wanted. These pics aren't great-I wish I could take a pic of the whole thing, and obviously I am still  looking for the perfect quad light switch and have to hang stuff on the walls. What do you think? Did I get close to my inspiration boards?

bathroom 3

bathroom 5

bathroom 7

bathroom 8

bathroom1
bathroom10

bathroom 11

And now I'm depressed again, because if my bathroom board came true, how many of these other fantastic boards are coming true??!!!

Wednesday, January 2, 2013

Over the Rainbow

My sister Jill has a new blog. It is about her life in real time after finding out that her son Mason has autism. Or is on the autism spectrum...I'm still trying to learn all of the appropriate lingo and follow along, and keep up, and stay informed.

When we were pregnant...

When WE were pregnant.

My whole childhood and much of my adult life is WE. Very little of my life has been "I". When WE were little, when WE were in high school, when WE moved, OUR friends. We both were singers, on cheerleading team, on swim team, played soccer, had the same friends, shared clothes, walked alike, talked alike. Identical cousins. Except sisters!

When our biological father died in 1999, I was heartbroken. The last time I saw him I was 6. The last time WE saw him we were 6. We thought we would meet him one day. At his funeral my heart broke for Jill, who was so sad, and I know she felt the same for me. We were sad for each other, but not sad for ourselves because we knew exactly what the other was feeling and we just wanted to take the pain away from the other one. We have never talked about this, but I just know it. Because I knew exactly how she felt.

I know how she feels about many things and anything in our life that has caused heartache...a lost relative, a boyfriend dumping or cheating one of us...I don't know, we have experienced it all together. It's like, I've never felt alone Ever. Even during bad hair styles of the 80's, because most likely Jill had the same one (except for the great hair crisis of 1995 in which my mom accidentally cut all of my fucking hair off) But there was plenty of empathy on Jill's end and she ALWAYS told me I looked great.

So, big bangs aside, with Mason's autism diagnosis, she is just alone. It is her. Not we. I can't do anything to help her feel better at this time. I feel guilty for crying, becuase then I feel like I'm crying because something is wrong with Mason. And there is nothing wrong with him. He is perfectly Mason and all of his little funny things are now part of his personality and who the fuck am I to cry over them? I am not perfect. None of us are, none of us have the perfect life or the perfect children. I guess we all just envision things a different way. Which brings me back to where we started.

When we were pregnant, this wasn't even on our radar. We just talked about them being best friends, going to school, who's graduation would mom attend if they were on the same day?? We looked at clothes, blankets, boppies, binkys and oohed and ahhhed over each other's nursery. We helped each other with registries ( um, I mean I copied Jill's), made fun of people with birth plans because even though you think we are nice, sometimes we are assholes. But you can be an asshole with your twin, because she will never talk about you behind your back. And if she is mad at you , she'll just get all up in your face. And in one hour you will kiss and make up. Actually, you don't even "make up" You call your twin an hour after your big fight and say, 'Are you going to see the Les Miz movie next week?" and it is just forgotten because being mad at your twin is pointless. Even if you get slapped across the face by your twin after bad night with tequila.

I guess what I'm saying is that....I love Jill. And I love Mason. And I hope she knows she is not alone. And I am SO thankful for all of the support she is receiving from everyone. I can't offer any words of wisdom. I don't know what this is like.

I know what she dreamed about before Mason was born, because I dreamed these same things when I was pregnant. ( No, I am not talking about chili dogs lathered in pineapples. I am talking about giving birth to the next Olympian)

You don't dream of all of the things she is facing right now. She did everything right.

And maybe that is the point. She did everything right. And has the perfect little boy for her. He is not society's idea of perfect. This is not a challenge that any of us are up for when we get the big positive. But life is not what we put on facebook, life isn't always the journey we imagine, and even though we are struggling righ now, I truly believe that we are all going to be touched by Mason in ways that we can't even fathom. He is our little man and I know he is going to make us all so proud!