Ok, yeah, it's been awhile. I can say this isn't the first post I've come up with though because technically I have about 15 more already written and titled in my head. Unfortunately that's where things have been getting stuck as my fingers have been pre-occupied changing diapers, taking meds and trying to catch up on a solid month of untouched housework. Envious huh?
Yes, on August 27th, after a mixer of 2ozs of castor oil & OJ, a few (maybe alot of) cuss words, a 3:45 am car ride listening to Lisa Loeb lullabies, a fabulous epidural & 12 minutes from 5cm to delivering... we have a wonderful new daughter. Finlay Evalyn came screaming into this world & our hearts. And as soon as I figure out how to post pics of her beautiful smile, I will. Just please don't hold your breath as it really might be a year before it happens... I'm just going by my track record. (What you can't see is Ben lecturing me on not sending out the finished birth announcements for Isla... born 2-1/2 years ago. So you see what I'm saying right?)
Finlay has been a dream child. And I can say that because Hazelle was a constantly screaming nightmare and Isla was probably about normal. I was due for a bit of a break, and I was really looking forward to this bonding time with my 3 girls at home when all hell started to break loose.
It started with the development of blood clots in my legs before I left the hospital and then a bout with post-partum preeclampsia. That was a short sentence, but it left me to be in 3 hospitals in as many days and on some serious meds. The first 2 weeks after my bundle of joy's arrival should have had me crying from lack of sleep from screaming children, but instead had my lack of sleep from nurses checking my blood pressure, drawing blood or checking my IV. It's over now, but I can honestly say it was probably one of the scariest things I've gone through in life so far.
Done. Over. Let's move on. Except in the midst of it Finlay has to go to Children's Hospital to have an ultrasound on her hip (should be just fine). Hazelle gets a staph infection in her ear (OMG, SO gross to watch what that doc pulled out of her ear. I could have made a small stinky candle) which requires 3 doctor's office visits in a week. And Isla, just over an ear infection herself comes down last night, hops in bed beside me and proceeds to vomit on both of us. A.W.E.S.O.M.E.
So, I have to honestly laugh a little. With each new doctor's visit I go to, there is the regurgitation of medical history that is to be filled out in triplicate for which I almost need to do shorthand to write in the complications. Then try to explain them to the poor nurse deciphering it almost makes me appear like a nut case. The amazing part to me though is through it all, next to the question"Postpartum Depression?", I can check an honest "NO". Because having the bejeesus scared out of me honestly made me appreciate the constant chaos being at home with 3 children 4 & under entails.
Bring it on life. I have a new abounding appreciation for you & my priorities. I just have one favor to ask. Could we hold off on getting barfed again on for awhile? One more bout of that and I just might have to check that 'Yes' box. Life is good. :)
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
15 years
I apologize for not writing more. Believe me, I have written a lot in my head and even started a few posts, but none have made it to publishing. To say we've been busy is an understatement. House projects abound and both Ben and I are in full panic mode. We both just realized last Friday that I'm not just pregnant... we'll have an actual mouth to feed and butt to diaper in just a few short weeks. Don't ask me how we managed to forget this part of being pregnant (that it ends with a child that you are now responsible for). I guess denial was at it's best. We are giving ourselves until August 15th to get everything done. Hopefully we make it. August 15th happens to be another milestone, our 15 year high school class reunion.
The reason I wanted to write about this is because I was IM'ing a girl I hadn't talked to since high school via Facebook yesterday. The conversation was quick but I learned her little girl was 16 (I forgot she had a baby in high school), and she had a miscarriage last year. We bonded over that. What's funny is I really cared about what was going on in her life and of another girl she's best friends with, who I hadn't spoken with in 15 years as well.
Most people might find this a little weird. For those of you who graduated with 60 people like I did, you might relate better. We came from a very small pond, a very small 'everyone knows your business and gossips about it within 5 seconds' pond. This sort of environment makes most people want to get out of said pond and jump into a big lake where no one cares if you've put on 10 pounds and blew up your own mailbox (inside joke, just ask someone from DeGraff, I'm sure they'll be able to tell you about it).
After talking with my old classmate I asked her if she was going to the reunion. I got a 'probably not'. I've noticed this response with so many of my fellow classmates. And, I think I know why.
When you leave town at 18, there's always a lot of big dreams. You are going to be 'it', that person who makes it, the one who actually follows through with all the plans you made and bragged about when you were 18. The one good thing about being an 'old fart' now.... is that I know that 18 year-olds are stupid. Young, naive, arrogant, self-centered but most importantly... stupid.
I think we all view our fellow alumni as that same person they were when they were young and stupid. We forget that life has probably happened to them as it has happened to us. The thing is, no one wants to go back and say, "I have failed at so much". Because surely no one has failed as much as you have. Surely they will judge you for all your missteps you made in your 20's. Surely they will not have the wrinkle lines and stretch marks, the lost jobs, the little house, the broken marriage, no marriage, a disabled child, childless, whatever... whatever you have gone through, surely they will judge you for it.
Ok, fellow classmates. I am huge. Hugely ginormous pregnant, that and the fact I have put on roughly 75 pounds of sheer fat since you last saw me. It took me 7 years to graduate with a bachelor's degree. A degree in an industry which looks down upon the very professional I desired to be. Employed at jobs I loved, I was laid off from both places of employment within 5 years, which was devastating emotionally. I have lost 2 pregnancies, but have been blessed with nearly 3 great little girls. I have a good marriage, but definitely not without it's faults. I live in the ghetto and have very little shot of trying to sell this house we labored over without taking a loss. I have many regrets, made many stupid choices and routinely stick my foot in my mouth. But... I am going to be present, open and honest because I hope that you might see that I will not judge you, and hope that you will not judge me.
For any of you that are contemplating a class reunion, let go of the anxiety. Place hope in the fact that you might be able to relive some of the good times of your childhood and bond with those who have shared the same life losses as you. That is what makes us each unique and now, grown-up.
I will be there, oh class of 1995, large... and in charge.
The reason I wanted to write about this is because I was IM'ing a girl I hadn't talked to since high school via Facebook yesterday. The conversation was quick but I learned her little girl was 16 (I forgot she had a baby in high school), and she had a miscarriage last year. We bonded over that. What's funny is I really cared about what was going on in her life and of another girl she's best friends with, who I hadn't spoken with in 15 years as well.
Most people might find this a little weird. For those of you who graduated with 60 people like I did, you might relate better. We came from a very small pond, a very small 'everyone knows your business and gossips about it within 5 seconds' pond. This sort of environment makes most people want to get out of said pond and jump into a big lake where no one cares if you've put on 10 pounds and blew up your own mailbox (inside joke, just ask someone from DeGraff, I'm sure they'll be able to tell you about it).
After talking with my old classmate I asked her if she was going to the reunion. I got a 'probably not'. I've noticed this response with so many of my fellow classmates. And, I think I know why.
When you leave town at 18, there's always a lot of big dreams. You are going to be 'it', that person who makes it, the one who actually follows through with all the plans you made and bragged about when you were 18. The one good thing about being an 'old fart' now.... is that I know that 18 year-olds are stupid. Young, naive, arrogant, self-centered but most importantly... stupid.
I think we all view our fellow alumni as that same person they were when they were young and stupid. We forget that life has probably happened to them as it has happened to us. The thing is, no one wants to go back and say, "I have failed at so much". Because surely no one has failed as much as you have. Surely they will judge you for all your missteps you made in your 20's. Surely they will not have the wrinkle lines and stretch marks, the lost jobs, the little house, the broken marriage, no marriage, a disabled child, childless, whatever... whatever you have gone through, surely they will judge you for it.
Ok, fellow classmates. I am huge. Hugely ginormous pregnant, that and the fact I have put on roughly 75 pounds of sheer fat since you last saw me. It took me 7 years to graduate with a bachelor's degree. A degree in an industry which looks down upon the very professional I desired to be. Employed at jobs I loved, I was laid off from both places of employment within 5 years, which was devastating emotionally. I have lost 2 pregnancies, but have been blessed with nearly 3 great little girls. I have a good marriage, but definitely not without it's faults. I live in the ghetto and have very little shot of trying to sell this house we labored over without taking a loss. I have many regrets, made many stupid choices and routinely stick my foot in my mouth. But... I am going to be present, open and honest because I hope that you might see that I will not judge you, and hope that you will not judge me.
For any of you that are contemplating a class reunion, let go of the anxiety. Place hope in the fact that you might be able to relive some of the good times of your childhood and bond with those who have shared the same life losses as you. That is what makes us each unique and now, grown-up.
I will be there, oh class of 1995, large... and in charge.
Monday, June 28, 2010
The Bond
When I was pregnant with Hazelle, I was in amazement of the whole process. The most fascinating of it was her connection with her dad. In utero, I would poke and prod her to move to no avail. But the minute my husband's hand touched my stomach she would kick it. It was uncanny. When she was born, she was wailing and he leaned down and said, "Hi Hazelle". The baby stopped crying, opened her eyes and searched for him, like she recognized him. This child hadn't been an hour old. And he was the only one who could calm her in those harrowing first few months. It left me feeling left out and like an awful mom, until I had Isla.
She was just the opposite. All those things that Hazelle did for Ben, Isla did for me. I swear I could think about wanting her to move and she would. I felt so incredibly connected to her from the beginning. When she was born, it was like I had always known her and her being in this world filled a piece I didn't know had been missing. Not to sound like a cliche but it was the truth. And I know she felt the same about me. It's no surprise that Hazelle is a daddy's girl and Isla a momma's girl, but we all change up every once in awhile so no one feels left out. Life is good.
So now... number three is cooking and Ben and I have been stupified by her. She responds to neither one of us like the other two. We're left to guess about her intentions. We do know she is one ferocious kicker and does not like when I change positions for any reason. She's also plotting her escape route. I'm pretty sure she's already drawn a map and is waiting for all her provisions to be in place before executing her escape. She will rise to power quickly and be a mighty dictator, that is just my prediction.
Tonight though, some other things clicked for me. Hazelle hopped on my shrinking lap and put her hand on my belly. She said, "Momma, I want to feel the baby kick". And as if on cue, that little baby gave me a whopper on the other side of my stomach that Haze could feel 10" away. She smiled and said, "She kicked me!" Yes, yes she did Haze, just like you asked her to, without waiting. Then several other occurrences came to mind. Like last week when Hazelle laid her head on my stomach and said, "Wouldn't it be funny if the baby kicked me in the face?" And that little kid inside me walloped her right on the cheek hard enough for Haze's head to bounce. Hazelle thought that was the funniest thing ever. She said, "Heeeey, she just kicked me in the face!" and laughed hysterically. I could go on, but the gist is, when big sis shows an interest, the baby responds in full effect. Never to ever be outdone, Isla routinely sings her version of the 'ABC's' to the baby via built in microphone (a.k.a. my bellybutton, apparently that's the only way to officially communicate with the baby, just talking aloud will not do). And although G-3 does not retaliate like she does with Haze, I can feel the baby moving, like happy, like dancing. Seriously... I'm not on crack, I'm pregnant, and that would be frowned upon.
So... now I'm getting it. Big sisters are it. They are going to be 'it' for this child. I think that is just the coolest thing in the world right now. And that kind of bond is what makes it all worthwhile.
She was just the opposite. All those things that Hazelle did for Ben, Isla did for me. I swear I could think about wanting her to move and she would. I felt so incredibly connected to her from the beginning. When she was born, it was like I had always known her and her being in this world filled a piece I didn't know had been missing. Not to sound like a cliche but it was the truth. And I know she felt the same about me. It's no surprise that Hazelle is a daddy's girl and Isla a momma's girl, but we all change up every once in awhile so no one feels left out. Life is good.
So now... number three is cooking and Ben and I have been stupified by her. She responds to neither one of us like the other two. We're left to guess about her intentions. We do know she is one ferocious kicker and does not like when I change positions for any reason. She's also plotting her escape route. I'm pretty sure she's already drawn a map and is waiting for all her provisions to be in place before executing her escape. She will rise to power quickly and be a mighty dictator, that is just my prediction.
Tonight though, some other things clicked for me. Hazelle hopped on my shrinking lap and put her hand on my belly. She said, "Momma, I want to feel the baby kick". And as if on cue, that little baby gave me a whopper on the other side of my stomach that Haze could feel 10" away. She smiled and said, "She kicked me!" Yes, yes she did Haze, just like you asked her to, without waiting. Then several other occurrences came to mind. Like last week when Hazelle laid her head on my stomach and said, "Wouldn't it be funny if the baby kicked me in the face?" And that little kid inside me walloped her right on the cheek hard enough for Haze's head to bounce. Hazelle thought that was the funniest thing ever. She said, "Heeeey, she just kicked me in the face!" and laughed hysterically. I could go on, but the gist is, when big sis shows an interest, the baby responds in full effect. Never to ever be outdone, Isla routinely sings her version of the 'ABC's' to the baby via built in microphone (a.k.a. my bellybutton, apparently that's the only way to officially communicate with the baby, just talking aloud will not do). And although G-3 does not retaliate like she does with Haze, I can feel the baby moving, like happy, like dancing. Seriously... I'm not on crack, I'm pregnant, and that would be frowned upon.
So... now I'm getting it. Big sisters are it. They are going to be 'it' for this child. I think that is just the coolest thing in the world right now. And that kind of bond is what makes it all worthwhile.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
A Hot Mess
Today is June 24. June 21st, last Monday, was of course the first day of summer (my ass!). I actually heard we were headed for a cool-down on today. It will be a measley 89 degrees outside. Geez, and they call that summer! Please....
Keep in mind I'm queen cranky-pants at this moment. Ben has been put on notice that at least one of us has to be on speaking terms with the world, and I have a 'no pants fit me anymore' excuse as to why I will not be that person. I knew this would be rough, after all I am a seasoned mom of two and have been through final trimesters before.... just not in the dead heat of summer..
I remember a few months back I was talking with a mom whose daughter was born right around my due date in 2009. I looked to her for guidance on how she made it through. She said with a brightly lit smile, "Oh, it was actually a really cool summer, it was so nice and pleasant." And then I punched her in the face. No, no I didn't, really. I thought about it... but then I realized I might have to do an outside work detail for probation and decided I liked the air conditioning inside better than anyone smiling about giving birth in August.
I promise you 4 readers that at some point I will try to be cheery between now and November. I say November because if you've ever had a newborn you don't even count the first 8 weeks they are around. There's a strange vortex there that you get sucked into and one day (when they start sleeping longer than 3 hours at a time) it spits you out, back to the real world with days and nights. I call it "The Awful 3 Months: The Last Month of Pregnancy and First Two with a Newborn". It doesn't sound like much, but I plan on writing a book about it someday. Except now I'm going to add an asterisk next to the title and put in small letters at the bottom. *Please extend this to 6 months if you plan on having an 'end of summer' baby. And good luck with that. And don' t punch anyone in the face who said it wasn't bad, they must have forgotten already.
Keep in mind I'm queen cranky-pants at this moment. Ben has been put on notice that at least one of us has to be on speaking terms with the world, and I have a 'no pants fit me anymore' excuse as to why I will not be that person. I knew this would be rough, after all I am a seasoned mom of two and have been through final trimesters before.... just not in the dead heat of summer..
I remember a few months back I was talking with a mom whose daughter was born right around my due date in 2009. I looked to her for guidance on how she made it through. She said with a brightly lit smile, "Oh, it was actually a really cool summer, it was so nice and pleasant." And then I punched her in the face. No, no I didn't, really. I thought about it... but then I realized I might have to do an outside work detail for probation and decided I liked the air conditioning inside better than anyone smiling about giving birth in August.
I promise you 4 readers that at some point I will try to be cheery between now and November. I say November because if you've ever had a newborn you don't even count the first 8 weeks they are around. There's a strange vortex there that you get sucked into and one day (when they start sleeping longer than 3 hours at a time) it spits you out, back to the real world with days and nights. I call it "The Awful 3 Months: The Last Month of Pregnancy and First Two with a Newborn". It doesn't sound like much, but I plan on writing a book about it someday. Except now I'm going to add an asterisk next to the title and put in small letters at the bottom. *Please extend this to 6 months if you plan on having an 'end of summer' baby. And good luck with that. And don' t punch anyone in the face who said it wasn't bad, they must have forgotten already.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
June 1: Time for Summer
Seriously. June 1st. Wow.
Well, nothing new to report except where the heck did the last 5 months go? I'm still stuck back in December for some reason. It's strange though because I feel a sense that we are moving on, starting anew. The last few months have been focused on getting the house ready to sell, having it on the market, Hazelle in school, getting through this pregnancy, etc. Now it seems like those phases are ending and it's time for summer! (don't take the exclamation point as an indication that I'm all that excited about it, air conditioning is my BFF).
Today was the last day for our house on the market. We set this deadline for ourselves and said 'whatever will be, will be'. 'It be' that it didn't sell. And you know what? That's alright. It really was quite a learning experience. We'll know so much more for the next time. Plus it gave us so much hope & confidence that we could actually do it with two small tornadoes in the house. I think next time we'll be able to do it with three. Maybe. We had an eleventh hour showing yesterday and are waiting on feedback*. We don't expect anything to happen, but in either case, this phase will be over. Amen to not having to clean like that again for awhile!
Hazelle finished up her first year of preschool. I think it was as much of a learning experience for me as it was for her. It doesn't seem like it would make that much of an impact, but it did. We both grew up a little. It helped me settle into the role of a stay-at-home mom this past year and confirmed that trying to do this while working would have put me in a bad, bad place. At least I feel now I'm making an earnest effort to be a mom and be involved in her life. It's different than I thought and am growing more accustomed to it every day. The coolest thing is watching her open her eyes to the world. She truly is her own person. I sometimes look at her and wonder where she came from, forgetting the four years of child-rearing, it sometimes seems like we're meeting her for the first time. So goes one of the many new things you learn from your kids.
And finally, last Friday marked week number 27 in this pregnancy, which also means the beginning of the final trimester. Or better known as the beginning of the end. I received my first canisters of free formula in the mail today and find myself grunting to get up. Yes, we have reached the time when we focus on preparing for this new little girl (for those of you who didn't know, we are indeed having our third girl). She makes her presence known and I fear will be quite the dictator. She kicks to her sister's voices and makes it known when I have moved in a position she does not favor. I have a feeling she will hold her own... and probably drive me to drink.
All in all, June 1 is signaling not only the start of what is sure to be a very uncomfortably warm summer, but also one of new beginnings. For the first time in a very long time I can use the words 'optimistic', 'happy' and 'hopeful'. It feels good to let go of (most of) the anxiety and feelings of self-doubt that goes along with selling a house, being a stay-at-home mom & expecting another child. The last year has kind of proved that we, as a family, can do it... 'It' being life. I'm truly hoping some of these good feelings are permeating your life as well. I think we all could use a little sunshine.
*Feedback was good, we are#3 on their short list and delighted us by saying the words 'beautiful' & 'great space'. Also used the term 'surprised that they actually liked it'. It's still off, but who knows... maybe a meteor will hit the other two houses for sale and they will come back to ours :) Although, we're not holding our breath.
Well, nothing new to report except where the heck did the last 5 months go? I'm still stuck back in December for some reason. It's strange though because I feel a sense that we are moving on, starting anew. The last few months have been focused on getting the house ready to sell, having it on the market, Hazelle in school, getting through this pregnancy, etc. Now it seems like those phases are ending and it's time for summer! (don't take the exclamation point as an indication that I'm all that excited about it, air conditioning is my BFF).
Today was the last day for our house on the market. We set this deadline for ourselves and said 'whatever will be, will be'. 'It be' that it didn't sell. And you know what? That's alright. It really was quite a learning experience. We'll know so much more for the next time. Plus it gave us so much hope & confidence that we could actually do it with two small tornadoes in the house. I think next time we'll be able to do it with three. Maybe. We had an eleventh hour showing yesterday and are waiting on feedback*. We don't expect anything to happen, but in either case, this phase will be over. Amen to not having to clean like that again for awhile!
Hazelle finished up her first year of preschool. I think it was as much of a learning experience for me as it was for her. It doesn't seem like it would make that much of an impact, but it did. We both grew up a little. It helped me settle into the role of a stay-at-home mom this past year and confirmed that trying to do this while working would have put me in a bad, bad place. At least I feel now I'm making an earnest effort to be a mom and be involved in her life. It's different than I thought and am growing more accustomed to it every day. The coolest thing is watching her open her eyes to the world. She truly is her own person. I sometimes look at her and wonder where she came from, forgetting the four years of child-rearing, it sometimes seems like we're meeting her for the first time. So goes one of the many new things you learn from your kids.
And finally, last Friday marked week number 27 in this pregnancy, which also means the beginning of the final trimester. Or better known as the beginning of the end. I received my first canisters of free formula in the mail today and find myself grunting to get up. Yes, we have reached the time when we focus on preparing for this new little girl (for those of you who didn't know, we are indeed having our third girl). She makes her presence known and I fear will be quite the dictator. She kicks to her sister's voices and makes it known when I have moved in a position she does not favor. I have a feeling she will hold her own... and probably drive me to drink.
All in all, June 1 is signaling not only the start of what is sure to be a very uncomfortably warm summer, but also one of new beginnings. For the first time in a very long time I can use the words 'optimistic', 'happy' and 'hopeful'. It feels good to let go of (most of) the anxiety and feelings of self-doubt that goes along with selling a house, being a stay-at-home mom & expecting another child. The last year has kind of proved that we, as a family, can do it... 'It' being life. I'm truly hoping some of these good feelings are permeating your life as well. I think we all could use a little sunshine.
*Feedback was good, we are#3 on their short list and delighted us by saying the words 'beautiful' & 'great space'. Also used the term 'surprised that they actually liked it'. It's still off, but who knows... maybe a meteor will hit the other two houses for sale and they will come back to ours :) Although, we're not holding our breath.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Grace...not.
Last Friday as I filed out the front door to get my water bottle from a car parked on the street, I was waved to by a very nice Rumpke man getting our recycling and from my neighbor across the street. I looked up, smiled, shot my hand up to wave back at both of them and then promptly fell down the front steps. The poor Rumpke man looked in horror and yelled from his truck, "Are you okay?" I shouted back, "Yes, but apparently I can't walk and wave at the same time."
As I got up, I noticed a bloodied knee on one side and a throbbing foot on the other. This wouldn't be so bad if I weren't pregnant and hadn't severely fallen down the steps INSIDE my home back in January, injuring my tailbone. So now I have sciatic pain from the baby, an inch thick scab preventing my right knee from bending, pulled ligaments in my left foot and a tailbone injury that pops up at the least opportune times rendering me to beg for assistance. To say I look like a weeble wobble who had been partially run over by a mini-van would be an understatement. Yes, people. Me and stairs have an issue.
These incidents unfortunately weren't the first. I thought about all the times I had fallen down steps during the last 15 years. I'm remembering these in no certain order... well maybe in terms of pain it caused.
As I got up, I noticed a bloodied knee on one side and a throbbing foot on the other. This wouldn't be so bad if I weren't pregnant and hadn't severely fallen down the steps INSIDE my home back in January, injuring my tailbone. So now I have sciatic pain from the baby, an inch thick scab preventing my right knee from bending, pulled ligaments in my left foot and a tailbone injury that pops up at the least opportune times rendering me to beg for assistance. To say I look like a weeble wobble who had been partially run over by a mini-van would be an understatement. Yes, people. Me and stairs have an issue.
These incidents unfortunately weren't the first. I thought about all the times I had fallen down steps during the last 15 years. I'm remembering these in no certain order... well maybe in terms of pain it caused.
- There was the time I was carrying Christmas presents when I was a college student on Ravine Street and destroyed half the presents I had just meticulously wrapped.
- The first day of classes at UC I walked out of Dubois bookstore and fell down the one step on to sidewalk, saved by my face, but not saving face.
- There was that time on Christmas Eve as we were secretly placing gifts under the tree and I slipped on the wood steps at my in-laws and literally shook the whole house when I landed, waking up my neice and nephew and destroying their visions of sugar plums and Santa Claus.
- I once slid down the steps while holding my newborn daughter, stopping just short of the wall and scaring the bejeesus out of both of us.
- And finally (the only one I was fully intoxicated for) at OU when my roommate, our guy friend and I stumbled home from the bar to the concrete steps in front of our dorm and we fell BACKWARD... from the top. We woke up with a black eye, a gash on our head and most likely a concussion, although I don't remember who had what injury. Hmm, I must have had the concussion.
Aaah, good times.
My husband has been present for most of these elegant displays, or at least in the general vicinity. We are blaming one of two things. 1. I grew up in a ranch house. Steps were never part of my physical space and therefore I never developed the 'coordination' for navigating them. 2. The good Lord blessed me with loose hip ligaments, a slight pigeon toe and gigantic boobs. Walking on an even surface is fine, but you throw those elements in with something that involves balance and coordination and you have the perfect scenerio for an 'America's Funniest Home Video'. If only one had been present last Friday I might be on my way to $10,000 and the source of America's laughter. If only I had been so lucky! Here's to lack of grace. May it one day be followed by a video camera, huge payday and no more injuries!
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Debbie Downer
Well, it's May 11th now. We officially put our house on the market 9 weeks ago today. Our original listing was up yesterday but we extended it through the end of the month. Big whoop huh? People have their houses on the market for years sometimes before selling. Well, me... well I hoping for a miracle. In fact, I was pretty sure a miracle was going to happen, especially when that beautiful tudor came on the market a week after ours. I knew it was meant to be. That beautiful house stood on the market for a solid 5 weeks or so. That alone was a miracle considering half of Westwood wanted to buy it, but everyone else was in the same boat, they needed to sell their house first. Of course it went pending to some lucky so-and-so. Today though my heart was officially broken when our backup favorite house went pending as well. So now, if we did by some chance get an offer, there's no place we're interested in moving to (in our price range that is).
Don't get me wrong, we're fine, we'll get by here with 3 kids just fine for awhile. In fact it will take a little stress off not to have to spend my last trimester moving... cause that would be a barrel of fun for sure. It's just I can't help feeling like a big fat failure (no pun intended for the 'big fat' part, even though I'm there for sure). I feel like I could be another line in Alanis Morrisette's "Isn't it Ironic" hit (Don't laugh! That CD changed my life... Ben was so much 'best friend with benefits'... good times in 1995) The point is isn't it ironic that a so called interior designer can't lure someone into buying her home? You know, that sanctuary created with 7 long, drawn-out years of design schooling and years of professional experience. Every other designer I know has had their place sold within 2 months or so, at a decent price. Some in as little as 3 days. Yet here we are, no hope in sight and we're looking at another year and a half before we can give it a go again.
Call it a pity party, please. And pass the Pringles potato chips. Just try not to spit on me as you repeat that phrase 5 times fast.
Honestly though I don't know which part has me in the dumps more. The fact I am an designer who can't sell one of her 'creations' or a mom stuck in a small house with no yard for her kids to play in. I just feel like a total failure. (Oh, haven't I warned you before of wildly shifting hormonal mood swings? Consider this one.) So if anyone wants to send me a nudge of encouragement, big hug or 'get over yourself you big fat crybaby' please do. I'm going to go encourage Isla to play with her poop some more now, you all need something of more substance to read about next time.
If you want a laugh after this Debbie Downer drivel, please view the following link. I wet myself partly because I'm pregnant and partly because it had me laughing in hysterics.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ql-N3F1FhW4
It made me feel not so bad about blaring 'Jagged Little Pill' in my fly Chrysler Town & Country.
Don't get me wrong, we're fine, we'll get by here with 3 kids just fine for awhile. In fact it will take a little stress off not to have to spend my last trimester moving... cause that would be a barrel of fun for sure. It's just I can't help feeling like a big fat failure (no pun intended for the 'big fat' part, even though I'm there for sure). I feel like I could be another line in Alanis Morrisette's "Isn't it Ironic" hit (Don't laugh! That CD changed my life... Ben was so much 'best friend with benefits'... good times in 1995) The point is isn't it ironic that a so called interior designer can't lure someone into buying her home? You know, that sanctuary created with 7 long, drawn-out years of design schooling and years of professional experience. Every other designer I know has had their place sold within 2 months or so, at a decent price. Some in as little as 3 days. Yet here we are, no hope in sight and we're looking at another year and a half before we can give it a go again.
Call it a pity party, please. And pass the Pringles potato chips. Just try not to spit on me as you repeat that phrase 5 times fast.
Honestly though I don't know which part has me in the dumps more. The fact I am an designer who can't sell one of her 'creations' or a mom stuck in a small house with no yard for her kids to play in. I just feel like a total failure. (Oh, haven't I warned you before of wildly shifting hormonal mood swings? Consider this one.) So if anyone wants to send me a nudge of encouragement, big hug or 'get over yourself you big fat crybaby' please do. I'm going to go encourage Isla to play with her poop some more now, you all need something of more substance to read about next time.
If you want a laugh after this Debbie Downer drivel, please view the following link. I wet myself partly because I'm pregnant and partly because it had me laughing in hysterics.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ql-N3F1FhW4
It made me feel not so bad about blaring 'Jagged Little Pill' in my fly Chrysler Town & Country.
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