The Following Is Selfish (aka MUST I Be Happy For You and Your Baby?)

I don't even know if I can pretend it's not selfish.  When he comes home from work my husband, Romeo, will hold me and cuddle me and rock me over it and know that I had a bad day.  But that doesn't mean he'll understand *exactly* why I'm so upset.  And he won't be even a smidgen upset himself.  I called my mother in tears, thinking maybe of all people, I could get a free pass with her.  Nope.  It was her firm reaction that made me go from thinking, "It's illogical, but it's still a big deal to me personally," to now thinking, "Wake the f^@% up, Juliet.  You are the only one in the world that would even care about this, much less give it a second thought."  She told me I was being ridiculous, overly dramatic, absurd, and ungrateful, and those were just the put-downs (or reality checks depending on which way you are looking at this) that I can actually remember from our brief phone call.

What's going on?  Many readers of this blog know that my delivery of Tybalt was not an easy one.  I had heart complications and have been told I am no longer able to have any more children.  For some people one child is their goal.  I say more power to them.  As long as they are happy and feel accomplished, life is good.  However, for me personally, I am not happy nor do I feel accomplished.  I love children (every job I've had has revolved around children) and I have daydreamed about my perfect 3-4 children since I was 3 feet tall; so being told at age 26 that child bearing was over for me was a hard blow.  No, make that a suffocating grasp by one who holds the Star Wars Force.  I don't know the movies past some iconic clips and references, but I know Darth Vader has the power to strangle someone out just by practically pantomiming it from afar.  That's what it felt like when the strange doctor hovered over my bed and gave me the news. (Against express wishes from Romeo who knew I'd be devastated and wanted to break the news to me himself, in private, once I was released from all the hospitals, but was at work that morning, so I was alone with a doctor who wasn't my normal one; and, gee, thanks "Dr. I Have No Bedside Manners and Didn't Read the Notes On the Report Before Coming In To A Room I Was Simply Doing Rounds For And It Really Wasn't Any of My Business Anyway"...)

Romeo and I have considered adoption, but for now at least, it isn't in the cards.  Adoption is expensive, and we don't have a savings to even put towards it.  And with all my medical bills, it will be awhile before we could even start to save. I love my son.  DO NOT MISTAKE ANYTHING I EVER TYPE WHEN FRUSTRATED OR ANGRY OR SAD OR HURT.  He is "practically perfect in every way" (thank you Mary Poppins).  But I want another child.  I won't rest until I get another.  I personally feel, that as for me, as for our family, we are not complete.  There is a spirit waiting in heaven that is supposed to join our family.  I don't know how, and I don't know when, but I feel it.  Maybe adoption, maybe surrogacy (new idea we've been bouncing around, but only during those "If we ever won the lottery..." kinds of conversations because of the price tag), or maybe I oops get pregnant even though we are on 3 types of birth control, God protects the baby and me through it, and I have my tubes tied after.  Who knows?  I don't.  But until then, I'm mad that without either science, a miracle, or the aforementioned lottery winnings, Tybalt is an only child.  And as friends and family get pregnant and then use social media to post ultrasound copies, update the world regarding how many weeks along they are, and then of course come the pictures of smiling Mommy and baby in hospital bed, captioned with date, time, weight, and length stats by a sleep deprived father, well...I go from mad for my own situation to Queen of Jealousy and an Angry Bitch.

There are some people I would be overjoyed to see have a baby.  Frenchie is one. My dear friend "D" and her husband "J" (Tybalt's Godparents) have been trying for years and can't conceive--they are another example.  Perhaps it's because these women are my best friends so their happiness is mine.  Perhaps it's because, while entirely and definitely not necessary, they love me and would think about my feelings when announcing their pregnancy.  But it's women my age that are on their sometimes second, but even more so third or fourth baby that drive me a little nutty.

**INSERT NOTE HERE: I KNOW MANY OF OUR READERS HAVE MULTIPLE CHILDREN AND/OR ARE PREGNANT CURRENTLY.  I BEG YOU NOT TO TAKE OFFENSE.  ALL OF YOU ARE DIFFERENT TO ME THAN THE WOMEN AND SITUATIONS I AM TRYING RELAX ABOUT AND GET A GRIP.  THROUGH THIS BLOGOSPHERE WE HAVE COME TO SHARE OUR JOYS AND OUR HEARTACHES.  I AM SIMPLY SHARING SOMETHING THAT IS IN THE HEARTACHE CATEGORY.  AND I'M THANKFUL FOR YOUR LISTENING EARS.  IT IS THE FORMER CO-WORKERS, FORMER FRIENDS, CURRENT FRIENDS, FORMER CLASSMATES, ETC., THAT I KNOW I WILL BE FORCED TO SMILE FOR, LEAVE EXCLAMATION MARKS AFTER A WRITTEN CONGRATS ON FACEBOOK WHEN I WISH I DIDN'T HAVE TO CONGRATULATE THEM AT ALL, ETC, THAT GETS MY BLOOD BOILING.  PERHAPS BECAUSE THEY DON'T KNOW WHAT'S IT'S LIKE TO HURT, THEY DON'T HAVE THE SUPPORT SYSTEM WE DO WHERE WE HELP EACH OTHER AND REALLY SEEM TO CARE.  MAYBE IT'S MY FAULT, MAYBE IF I TOLD THEM IT'S HARD FOR ME, THEY'D THINK TWICE.  BUT I KNOW I WON'T.  BECAUSE I SHOULDN'T.  IT'S NOT MY PLACE TO PUT A DAMPER ON THEIR GOOD TIMES.  ANYWAY, I'M JUST TRYING TO SAY NONE OF YOU DEPRESS ME, BECAUSE WE ARE ALL CANDID HERE AND KNOW NONE OF US ARE PERFECT.  IT IS THOSE I HAVE TO PRETEND IN FRONT OF THAT MAKES ME WANT TO GORGE MY EYES OUT WITH A FORK WHEN YET ANOTHER NEWBORN PHOTO IS UPLOADED TO THEIR FACEBOOK WALL.**  (If you are still offended, I apologize that I can't clarify further or enough apparently, but invite you to private message me so we can have a heart to heart.)

Anyway, where was I?  Oh yeah, the part where I explain what prompted this Tuesday morning rant.  Today  is August 21st and it is Tybalt's 2nd birthday!  We are celebrating with a small party on Saturday, but today is the big day.  Every birthday is hard on me, as I found last year's was as well.  It should be noted that amongst other things, I have the usual birthday anxieties--I am simply bummed that my little baby is growing up so fast and already turning 2 years old!  And I do think most moms experience those sorts of feeling at some point.  So in that regard I'm not crazy or highly unusual.  But where the rare (and perhaps crazy) kicks in, is that at his birthday I am reminded of while pregnant my high hopes for an easy scheduled c-section, cuddling him in the hospital for a couple of days, then taking him home and making him mine all mine (oh, and Romeo's too, lol) as we became a tiny but perfect family.  Instead I have flashbacks of glaring lights in hospital "bulletin board material" ceilings, hallucinations from IV drugs, not being able to talk due to a tracheotomy, only seeing my son to feed him a bottle when my MIL brought him by, and even then being forced to wear a mask and scaring myself that I was scaring him because all he could see was my eyes.  Then being released when he was 3 months old but in rehab in the basement for bedsore complications and not being able to help my MIL with his care, even for the few hours I could stay awake due to meds, until he was 4-5 months old.  Not exactly the birth story you want to celebrate yearly.  *SO* many people (aka practically everyone I know) tell me I just have the wrong attitude about it.  That I truly should be celebrating--being alive.  And not just "alive."  But "alive!!!!!!!!!!!" as in with as much jubilation and as many imaginary exclamation points as possible.  I'm not knocking being alive.  But what the world doesn't seem to understand is, in celebrating being alive, even just knowing and recognizing that I am, I still have to see the memories.  It doesn't make the pain go away.  Flashbacks are flashbacks.  I don't choose to dwell.  They pop up whether I like it or not.  A smell, or a word will do it while I'm awake.  Other times they resurface as nightmares during the little sleep I do get.  And for a few weeks around Tybalt's birthday both years now (and Thanksgiving which is the week I was finally released from the last hospital, but that's a separate side note)  it just seems to happen more often.  So even recognizing I'm alive and thanking God for it doesn't make it any easier to grin at Tybalt's birthday party.  And it definitely doesn't make those eternal optimists that keep popping out babies, like I wanted to, like I dreamed I'd be doing, any easier to stomach.

So, I DO want to enjoy today, I want to make it all about my wonderful little Tybalt, yet I can't push the storm clouds away.  So, I've simply been doing my best to ignore them.  Realize they are there, but not focus on them.  It hasn't been easy, but I'm trying.  Honest to God, I'm trying....I WAS trying...

.....Then IT happened.  The 365 to 1 chance I prayed wouldn't.  (I even said out loud to Romeo and Tybalt last night, "Everybody pray that 'it' won't happen for the next like 24 hours.  Just 26 hours to be exact!  Then I'll be fine.")  See, last March I found out Romeo's cousin, "CD" was pregnant with her second child.  CD and I have been passively aggressively competing since I met Romeo.  CD and her husband "ND" started dating right around the time Romeo and I did.  The big Hispanic family's attention steered off of us and on to them.  CD and ND got married 3 months before we did.  Family members low on cash went to the first wedding (theirs) and not the second (ours).  I announced I was pregnant the following February.  Guess who announced she was pregnant in April?  There went any pomp and circumstance I had coming.  Beyond that, "LD," CD and ND's precious baby boy, has been achieving developmental milestones weeks if not months ahead of Tybalt.  I am not concerned about my son, as all children develop differently, but try explaining that when ND's accomplishments are practically blown-up billboard size on social media sites like Facebook for all the extended family to see!  If I have one more "Aunt" ask me whether Tybalt can do what LD is doing in his latest video, and then give me a concerned look when I admit he can't yet-----I'm going to lose my already bat s#!% crazy mind!  So, since the big announcement that CD was expecting, and due sometime in August, I've been praying, hoping, and just sending as much positive energy into the universe as I could muster...but...as I'm sure you already guessed it--guess who gave birth to her beautiful bouncing 2nd baby boy today, August 21st, and what dad already has pictures plastered all over both of their Facebook walls?

So not only am I jealous of all healthy women who have healthy babies, not only is today hard because a) I don't want my baby to grow up, and b) it also throws me into a panicky tailspin of awful hospital and rehab memories, not only am I already in a personal funk because her 1st kid is so much more advanced than mine, but now...oh, now...she had her baby on my baby's birthday.

Okay, I'm done now.  Done ranting.  Done possibly annoying some of you with my pessimistic views.  Probably not done with, but trying to forgive, my mother and the rest of the world for not understanding what I'm going through and calling me selfish, illogical, and a weirdo. But on the other hand, how *can* anyone understand?  Show me someone who's gone through the *EXACT* same things I have the last two years with my health and my disappointments.  I mean exact to a "T" and I'll show you someone who might possibly relate.  Moral of the story?  Maybe I am being selfish, but walk a mile...

Mommy Car

B and I bought my car in a big big hurry. I graduated from law school, we had a car, but B drove it to work every single day. I had fully intended on getting a job in downtown Chicago, and to take the CTA to work every day, just as I had done for law school. I never anticipated that I would end up working in the suburbs, and my perfectly placed condo, 5 minutes away from both the Red Line and the 145 express bus would be basically useless. B's cousin was the finance manager at a Honda dealership, so we rushed out there after my first day of work to pick one out. We fully intended on buying a used Accord or Civic, but on an new paycheck and emotional high, I wanted a Hybrid. His cousin pointed us in the direction of their new hybrid car, the Insight. He promised us that we wouldn't pay a penny more than he would if he bought one. I recognized it as Leslie Knope's car from Parks and Recreation, asked if they had one like hers, in white. They pulled it around, and I signed and drove off.

As a 26 year old who was buying her first car after her first day of work as a real lawyer, I clearly did not look at my five year plan. I can't believe I never even considered that I might have a child before my car payments were up.

But, I loved my car. I could fit it in the tighest of spots, which was number one on my list of car-needs. My street in Chicago was one way, narrow, and crowded. Past 7 pm, you would be lucky to get a spot within a 3 block radius. I get 45 mpg, which was amazing for my over an hour commute from my city condo to my suburban office. It' so narrow, that I could drive speedily down any tiny Chicagoan two way street without worrying about side-swiping the parked cars. It's a cute utilitarian hybrid that I was just head over heels for. The only time I ever questioned my car's awesomeness was on a trip back from the airport for my Bachelorette weekend, when I had three people in the very small backseat, and 4 people's weekend luggage in the hatch. I swear, it was the only time.

Until I was 7 months pregnant, with backpain, shopping for carseats and living in a city with ample parking dominated by SUVs and luxury sedans. My little car stands out like a sore thumb in this place.

With the carseat installed, the front passenger seat has to be pulled all the way up. Like, all the way, knees hitting the dashboard for anyone over 5 feet. So yeah, that's not awesome. Luckily, it's mostly just me and Mia in my car. If my Mom is in town, B and I will switch so that we can enjoy the luxurious and spaciousness of his Honda Civic. (Yeah, it's a problem when your big car is a Honda Civic)

I've been complaining that my car is too small for this city, for this family. Wanting a new car seems so silly and indulgent, considering that my car is three years old and was purchased brand new. But with Mia's stroller, carseat and one other person, this car is just too small for us. We decided that we'd wait until at least one of our cars was paid off before we could consider another car. Having only one car payment would make such a difference in our budget. A couple of weeks ago, he announced that his payments would be over by the spring of 2013. I got so excited! 6 more months and I could get a real car! Since bigger cars cost so much more, I started looking at used car listings. I fantasized about a Mazda CX-9, or really anything that would allow for two carseats and still fit a passenger in the back. B and I started having very serious discussions about gas mileage v. a third passenger row. Serious, serious, serious.

But, he double checked, and it's the spring of 2014. BLARG.

It's not a big deal of course. Nothing in our lives has changed. We have one child, one car seat, and  small dogs. We want Mia to be at least three years old when she gets a sibling, so we're not even in the realm of trying for a second. But, for those couple of weeks, I was really looking forward to some leg room.

Daycare crud the millionth

There's nothing like a sick weekend, is there? Mia was congested on Friday, and by Saturday morning, I was already infected. There is seriously no need for me to try keeping my distance from that kid. It doesn't help that whenever I have some food in my hand, she wants a bite. I am pretty sure the nectarine we shared on Thursday is to blame for this one.

Have you ever completely lost your sense of smell and taste when you had a cold? I don't think it has ever happened to me before. I mean, sure, I may have been congested to the point that my taste and smell has been impaired, but completely disappeared? Never. But since Saturday, I got nothing. Even if I am able to breathe through my nose, I still can't taste or smell anything. In all other ways, it's just your run of the mill cold/cough combination. Nothing alarming, but the complete loss of two senses.

It's weird. It hasn't stopped me from eating things that are bad for me though. For the past three days, I've become acutely aware of the texture of foods. It turns out that the texture of popcorn is much more enjoyable than a salad. When you can't taste the olive oil or the vinegar, eating salad just feels like you're eating wet plants.

I really hope my taste buds come back soon. Although the lack of my sense of smell has made changing diapers much easier, and I have no idea when a dog (or a husband) has farted, it's still pretty weird walking around without knowing what it smells like.

Rule number one

Never leave work before your boss does. Right?

Then, answer me this. What is my boss, who usually leaves at lunchtime on a friday, still doing here at 4:15?

I shouldn't complain much, since it's only my third day back at work since my vacay, but you know... I want to get my friday on!

Airports, Haircuts, Weddings

We are back!

Although I am thrilled to be back in my comfy bed, to have Mia back in her crib, and to have a full-time co-parent, this morning was a tough rise out of bed. Not literally, since I am still on Central Standard Time and was wide awake when B's alarm went off, but getting out of bed to knowingly resume our everyday routine was... not fun.

Also not fun, realizing that my 13 day vacation from My Fitness Pal brought the 5 pounds back, so I am back to square one on the whole weightloss business.

BUT! Let's be positive!

In pictures, the Mia and Mama summer vacation:

At the Las Vegas airport. We got there three hours before our flight because we are cheap and did not want to take a cab, so B had to drop us off on the way to work. It all ended up evening out, since we had to take the tram all the way back to security, since this frazzled Mama left her watch at TSA while they were checking Mia's soymilk for explosive residue. We still made it back in time to spend 30 minutes getting energy out at the children's play area, which consisted of a fake airtraffic control tower, and some viewfinders which Mia thought were fun to climb.

On the flight from Las Vegas to Denver, we were seated in Economy Plus thanks to a "cousin" who works at the United check in counter -- Mia had room to play at my feet since she refused to sleep.

Mia and I enjoyed a meal at one of the "real restaurants" in the Denver airport, since our flight was delayed by two hours. Mia ate an quarter of my club sandwich!!

Evidence that travelling through three timezones is NOT recommended with a child. Mia did not go down until nearly midnight when we first got to Stamford, CT to stay with my college roommate. She also refused to go back into her pack n play once she realized that we were sharing a room.

Breakfast. Tired baby. Awesome travel high chair/cooler.

Mia was obssessed with L's dog, a Bernese Mountain dog. Mia's first new word from the trip: Abby. (pronounced: "Babby")

We had dinner in Stamford, which is where Mia started refusing to be carried.

Our first night in New Jersey, where we went next to stay with my aunt and her family. Mia kept on asking for "Babby", so my cousin went and found this giant stuffed dog that Mia carried around with her.

Fun with my cousin, who was the first person she warmed up to in New Jersey. She *may* have called him Papa a few times.

At the Jersey Shore -- no fist pumping for this little one.

Once in Chicago, Mia bonded very well with her Great Grandpa, and was basically obsessed with his shoes.

On our second day in Chicago, we went back to our old neighborhood. My brother, who just moved back to Chicago in May lives near our old apartment. Unfortunately, my parents have tennats, so we couldn't visit the actual apartment, but here we are in front of the courtyard.

After having lunch at one of my fave restaurants near my old place, we headed down to Lincoln Park Zoo with my brother and his girlfriend. Mia pointed to all the animals and said: "Hi Babby!"

More evidence of time-zone side effects. Picking her nose on the airmattress that I was sleeping on, which evidently seemed more comfortable to her than her pack n play. Also, a good shot of the state of Mia's hair without a hairclip. 

Within hours of B joining us in Chicago, we went down to the basement, where B's grandpa keeps a barber chair from his old shop. It's a long standing C-- tradition that B really wanted to keep, having his Grandpa give Mia her first haircut. Although I had previously trimmed the back of her neck to keep her from getting a mullet, this will count as her first official haircut.

She did not like the robe, nor did she like the haircut. There was a lot of screaming, but that did not seem to bother her Great Grandpa one bit. We wanted to keep her hair mostly long anyway, so it took all of 4 minutes.

After!

After, wth pigtails!

After dropping Mia off with my brother and his girlfriend, B and I headed out to Wheaton for his cousin's wedding. We got all dressed up, stayed in a hotel (Holiday Inn -- what's up), and had a the best time.

The beautiful and happy couple, still smiling despite their outdoor ceremony being rained out.

And finally, back home for our day of rest before getting back into the swing of things.

And, there you have it. We are back. It was super awesome not to have to share Mia with daycare, and not to have to share myself with work for the past two weeks. Just to make sure our summer doesn't turn too quickly into winter and fall, B and I are going to try to squeeze a weekend in LA for September before my Mom comes for a month-long visit.

Thanks For Your Patience

I exist. Just have had a crazy schedule with some doctor and legal stuff. And I know for all you MILP's "legal stuff" is everyday. But not for this stay at home mommy. So prepping for it (aka working myself up over it) sent me into a reclusive tailspin. I hope to be able to post more when I'm past a bit of it. I'm also having an outpatient procedure done for my lower back as well as bed sore pain, tomorrow, Thursday morning. This means there will be a 50/50 shot I think that while Frenchie is enjoying a nice vacay I can pick up my slack and write a bit. In scenario "A," If I'm feeling good but lying around while Tybalt is at MIL's because of my restrictions, I should have time to write. But if there are any hiccups in the procedure (I've never done this one before) and I feel miserable or horribly doped/high on pain meds, trust me it's best for us all if I don't wrote in that which we call scenario "B."

The first step is admitting you have a problem

Guys, I'm addicted.

Addicted to Emily Maynard's clothes, jewelry, and accessories.

It's embarrassing. But, I'm thinking of cutting myself off from my laptop (whether my work one, or my home one) for the next 10 days in order to detox.

But until then, let me explain myself:

It started with the Bachelorette. Obviously, I like that show a bit too much, as I discovered from the amused/pitying look on Juliet's and our mutual friend D's when I made my best "please watch this show so that I have more people to talk to about it" pitch. I blame the margaritas. (I think I say that phrase a bit too often...)

Emily wears a lot of bracelets. Multiple bracelets, stacked on top of one another. I remember this from when she was on the Bachelor, and that was the first thing I emulated. So, I wanted some pictures of them to see if there were any I could copy. I found this:

Those are simple macrame style bracelets with one single sideways charm. I've perfected the technique using a couple of cheaper sideways charms that I found at a craft store. I think they're pretty, but they're not quite as special. I'm contemplating putting in an order for a few of these special ones, but I'm waiting to get a few more sales before purchasing more materials.

Then, she wore this dress:

And I had to know what it was. It's so beautiful! So, to Google I went. And found this my new best friend, Possessionista. (The dress, while being sold out, is probably also way out of my price range, which at the moment is Ross). Possessionista identifies clothing, jewelry, etc, worn on television. If you're ever wondering whether you can get Rachel Berry's quirky clothes, look to Possessionista for answers. She'll give them to you.

Since so much of what she wears is out of my price range, I've been keeping up with Possessionista to capture the few moments when the pieces are affordable, which, it turns out, is not that rare. Then, came this:

Let's not pay attention to the fact that she's crying, but instead, look at those rings and nail polish!

I had to have the ring. Dana id'ed it as an $860 rose gold ring with diamonds, but also gave us an alternative, $29 from Nordstrom.com. So... after reminding B that he had still owed me a push present (yes, 14 months after our daughter was born), two mouse clicks, and it was on its way. I've been browsing Etsy for a similar small gemstone ring to stack on top of it, but until I find the perfect one, I like it on its own just as much.

At Ross the other day, I was picking up a few non-ratty casual tops and other casual clothes, since, you know, I am going to be around adults not at the workplace, and can't very well wear my t-shirts with random oil stains, spilled milk, and whatever else Mia may have thrown on me. As I was perusing the aisles of discount clothes, each time I picked something out, I found myself thinking: "Would Emily wear this?" Yikes!

I've been keeping Possessionista open in my browser ever since I discovered her. I've come close to making a couple of purchases, but a voice of reason is always in the back of my mind, reminding me that although my paychecks are on time now, I'm still mostly at 4 days a week, and we still have a weekly daycare payment to make. Plus, Emily Maynard and I do not exactly have the same body type.

Then, I was at Target yesterday, picking up some trip essentials, I passed the nail polish aisle and remembered that Dana had also id'ed that nail polish she was wearing as Essie's Fiji. They had it, one bottle left. Right next to it, a very similar color. I tried both with a quick swipe on my nails, and opted for NOT Fiji. I went home, painted my nails and although they turned out nice, they are not the same as the above pictured. I am not sure why I thought that picking the one right next to it would create a superior nail polish look -- What was I thinking questioning the exact match??

B suggested I make a new bracelet: WWEMD. What would Emily Maynard do. Seriously, I have a problem. Phew, I feel better already.

Summer Vacation Excitement Fail!

I kid you not, until about 2 minutes ago, I thought at this time next week, I would be on a plane LaGuardia bound. It's been a light at the end of the tunnel for me, a tunnel which has now just grown in length by 7 days!! Drat. It's like the opposite of waking up on a weekend morning thinking that you have to get up and get ready to go to work, only to realize that no! you can lay back down and sleeeeep! First world problems, I tell you.

This week is a rare occurrence for me since I my hours were reduced from 40 to 32: I am working all five days this week! We've actually got some legal stuff going on. I was so excited about this. Not only do I have something interesting to do other than figuring out how to remove people from the Company's insurance, but I will also get a higher paycheck! But boy, I did not realize how well-accustomed I had gotten to getting a mid-week break. I usually take my reduced-hours day to coincide with B's weekday off (He almost always works Saturdays, so they give him a weekday off), so it's usually a tuesday, wednesday or thursday. It's now thursday, and I am actually exhausted from my lack of a sitting around day. And, we have no groceries, the house is a mess, and I'm still fishing clean clothes to wear out of the dryer because I have had no time to sit down and fold it. Hmm, I guess I don't really sit around on that day after all, considering the current state of our chores. First world problems, I tell you.

My usually slow Fridays will also be replaced tomorrow by a meeting with our outside counsel who handles the litigation. I usually look forward to these; my brain feels like its exercising, reminding me that yes! you are a lawyer! you remember legal things!

So, my light at the end of the tunnel is T-14 days until my big summer vacation. Mia and I head to Connecticut for a college-roommate reunion; a couple of days with my Aunt and cousins in New Jersey, another flight for 5 days in Chicago to meet B and attend his cousin's wedding.

Guilty Pleasure: Team One F Jef

You Guys. Have you been watching the Bachelorette? If so, and you haven't watched last night's Fantasy Suite episode yet, how in the world have you held out this long, stop reading this and go watch it. Well, don't. I won't give anything away from last night's episode, just the final three. If you don't watch it, you do not know the excitement you are missing. I may have been complaining the other day that my life is not exciting, but on Mondays, it's about all that this girl can take.

On Mondays, B picks Mia up from daycare so that I can get dinner started. They get home, we hang out, chat, read books and play. Then, dinner time. We eat, then usually Skype with Mom. Then, at promptly 7:45 (other days, I am flexible on her bedtime and let her tell me when she's getting tired), it's time to start our bedtime routine. Bath, pajamas, bottle, snuggle, and by 8:05, bed. I had straight to the kitchen, salt the rim of my margarita glass, pour myself some Skinny Girl and settle in for 2 hours of indulgence.

I've told you before, I'm obsessed with this show. No matter the quality of the main person, there always seem to be one or two or three awesome "contestants" that I cannot get enough of. In retrospect, I can admit that some seasons are less exciting for me, but in the moment, there is nothing that I could enjoy more than watching an episode, if I was covered in puppies, drinking margaritas and eating sushi rolls with a side of cilantro dipped in chocolate on a beach while getting my feet rubbed.

So, let's talk substance: Emily Maynard. I'll acknowledge that she was slightly boring on Brad's season, but I liked her. She's so pretty, sweet, has an awesome wardrobe that I want to steal/fit into, and is genuinely likeable to the point that viewers (at least me) will want her to be happy. This time, her excitement level hasn't picked up much, but we've gotten to know her a lot more than the others because there weren't as many distractions. Helicopters! Tightropes! Rappelling! Waterfalls! were few and far between. There was mostly a lot of walking around old castles and talking. I'm fine with it, it was still riveting.

Let's talk about the guys: the final three were not surprising. From the very beginning, it was obvious which three guys would be left standing for the overnight dates. They are all three awesome. Sean: incredibly good-looking, admittedly slightly boring. All-American hot! Similar to Emily! Arie: OMG so much charming. European-American hot! Jef: Also charming, but in a weird and quirky way. To me, he's excellent. He's too cool for normal suits, he has skinny pants suits. He probably bought them at Banana Republic when they were selling their Mad Men collection. Weird hot! I vote for Jef, but in the end, any of the three guys who do NOT get picked by Emily could be great as the next Bachelor. [I may have said that about Ben from Ashley's season -- I was totally wrong. He was awful. ABC, don't make another mistake].

What are your guilty pleasure shows?

Show me some appreciation. PLEASE!

I started to post the following on Facebook and it got way too long and personal. I must say it's late though and my eyes won't stop closing, so we'll see how long I can hold out. Anyway, it's pretty self explanatory, but if you find yourself with any questions, don't hesitate to leave a comment. Thanks! :)

"Have you ever had such a roller coaster day that ended in a plummet, not a fun uphill climb or wacky twist? And you went for support from a particular loved one but they just zoned out in their own little world? Usually its innocent enough, but I just can't take it tonight! So here's what I hope can happen to get me out of my funk:

Who in Vegas and Henderson loves sushi like I do? Join me! I am gonna waste away if I don't get a fix of 808 Sushi and it's owner Dean soon! Hopefully this weekend. Hoping for happy hour when it's cheaper. Any takers? Frenchie? B? DG? JG? (Or girls night out and boys play with the kids?) But sadly happy hour menu is just rolls and apps, and I know how you four love your Nigiri. (And I like some of it there too actually.) You could also to buy that at regular price or choose AYCE. And I mean I'm not opposed to going for regular AYCE time too. Someone just has to volunteer to call Romeo and convince him to take me out. Extol upon him my superb qualities. That I'm a wonderful wife and the best mother ever and I deserve a night out on the town, at least a night with friends and sushi. Still no luck? Let's all hang this weekend but call it a cheepo lazy ass weekend and not do much of anything but let the kids play and order cheap pizza and drink cocktails, wine, and beer, yes? No? If you can twist my hubby's arm, I can even volunteer the house for the gathering. Do you think you could try to convince my man of that? Whatever you do--penalty of death if you reveal to him that I put you up to this! But what are friends for? In my case I need them to convince my husband how f-ing great I am, all I do, and that I deserve a night of raw fish and friends. (Or at the very least board games, movies, and friends. Are we too old for a retro sleep-over? The kids could sleep in Tybalt's room!) Help me get this off the ground with him! Oh, and now that my ramble's over, really, any local LV or Henderson friends who like sushi are welcome to come and make new friends with us and enjoy good food!"

"I probably need to clarify. I love my husband more than life itself. And most times he is a saint. But sometimes he is a saint to everyone else around us and can get too busy and caught up to remember me. Today was a big scary doctor appointment for me. It ended up going better than anyone could have expected, and I thought when I told him he'd jump for joy. (This is a serious issue with my health that we have been battling together for a couple years.) Instead I got a half-ear listen as he had some action movie on the tv, volume raised to a ridiculous level for early evening.

I now expect some flack regarding venting my frustrations. (Possibly here, but a reminder this was originally a fb post and we have hundreds of mutual friends on there. I have edited the entry there but part is still up. So we shall see.. what kid of crap I have to defend on fb after this. :( ) And I could honestly see why one might berate me--He is the best guy ever--no argument there. So while I concede to take your and their comments warmly and will mull them over and not dismiss, please try to give me an equal chance and respect, keeping in mind that being his wife and son's mother is a different skill set and a whole new ride. When you live with someone 24/7 sometimes you just see things others don't. Some of those are awesome and you feel blessed that only you bear witness to the moments, and some are the nitty gritties that you just need to vent and release so that you can start fresh and anew, which of course is healthy. Romeo is a blessing from God to all in his life. I won't discount your fond stories. 99.9% of the time mine are fond as well, I just ask a favor that you don't attack me for feeling tired and vulnerable and having to admit that I wish there are some things he could work on. He is my everything, but sometimes I wish he'd realize that in these last 2 years we are not just a family of 2--Him and Ty, but rather a family of 3 that includes me. (And in that way, sometimes I have needs and desires that mean he better find a sitter so we can spend time fostering the relationship that is just us.)"

Blog Baby Boom

There were two births this past week (I believe both were July 4th, actually!) in the blogs-I-follow world. Cristy had Gloria, and Michelle Au over at the Underwear Drawer had Nina. I've been keeping a close eye on their blogs for the past few days, just waiting to hear news. It's funny, because despite having no communication with these two women outside of reading their blogs and occasional comments, I'm genuinely happy for their expanding families.

I know there are have been other births in the blog-world since my own, many many more, actually, but these are the first that have elicited any kind of response from my own uterus. I think I might feel a twinge of baby-fever coming from down there, albeit a low-grade one. It seems easy enough to explain, these two births are perfectly timed with Mia beginning her departure from baby-hood. At a forth of July party we went to on Wednesday, there was a 10 month old baby that we spent a few minutes with. It's amazing what a difference just 4 months make in a baby's development; it made me miss having a little cuddly bundle. It's been 13 months and a few days since my own labor and delivery, and evidently, that's the amount of time it takes for me to think back on my time at the hospital (and the following weeks of difficulties) with any amount of fondness. Actually, it's probably around this time last year that I started being comfortable moving again.

I've said before that I didn't have a complicated pregnancy, labor, or delivery. I had a vaginal delivery, with only about 30 minutes of pushing. But, because Mia's arm was up around her face instead of down alongside her body, I got third degree tears. Mia came out before my Doctor made it into the delivery room, so there was nobody to do an episiotomy. These are not so uncommon, but extremely uncomfortable and slow to heal (for me), so the six weeks after delivery were slow and painful. I blame my difficulty losing weight and exercising now to my 6 weeks of complete inactivity during my maternity leave. It's nothing compared to what a lot of people go through, but hey, it was tough on me.

But now? I'm OK with what happened. And yes, the tearing is likely to happen again, but at least if/when there is a second time around, we'll be ready for it. So far, I have had ZERO desire for a second child, except for not wanting Mia to be an only child. But that hasn't seemed like reason enough. To have a second child, it has to be more than just wanting to give your first child something that you find important. You have to want more people in your family! B and I continued to talk as if there would be a second child, making plans to upsize our car in 2013, buying a new carseat for Mia with the intention of reusing her infant one for #2. But in the back of my mind, it's always been an "if".

There are people close to me who I know want another child, but for one reason or another, are unable to, or have been unable to so far. My sister in law and her husband have been having difficulties conceiving #2, even though #1 was conceived in their first month of trying. It's hard to talk about my own past struggle with whether I want another one since my friends either 1)have no babies, or 2)want more, but can't. And also, because of how difficult her struggle has been, I guess I don't want to put my decision off too long. I don't want to wait the three years that we want between our kids, only to find out that we will have trouble with #2 also. Of course, there are questions. Whether we can afford another daycare bill, whether I can take another, longer maternity leave, whether we think we have enough energy to devote to raising a second baby. But finally, I am starting to feel confident that yes, we'll plan on having more. I can do it. I want to do it.

Just not yet. We'll just have to hope for the best, but our family is not ready for a second addition.

Idealized Summer

Between constantly being sick, and the above 100 degree temperatures and scorching sunlight of Las Vegas, I realized that we're in quite a bit of a rut.

I realized this as a I glanced over at my husband, who was doing something on his computer while the Matrix 2 was playing. I was sitting on the couch finishing an epic bracelet. Mia was already asleep. This is the same scene that plays out almost every weeknight in our living room. Something on TV (plus, now that it's summer all the good TV is in reruns), B is on his laptop, while I make jewelry/knit/work on my Etsy Shop. It was Sunday night, we had already done our chores for the day, stocked our refrigerator for the week. I asked what he was up to, and almost dramatically, he said "Just waiting for bedtime, I guess". It hit me how depressing that sounds.

We have big summer plans. We bought a membership to the Springs Preserve, with the full intention of going at least once a month. We haven't gone back since, because... HOT. We are going to take a weekend trip to LA, but don't want to deal with hassle of boarding the dogs now that we've lost our go-to college student dog sitter. We are going to spend a night at a Vegas hotel with a fabulous pool towards the end of the summer when Mia is more steady on her feet, but it seems like the hotel prices aren't dipping below $125 which was our cut off. I still think we'll make all three items happen.

There always seem like so many excuses not to do something out of the ordinary. My husband is a home body. The baby shouldn't be out in the heat for long. The dogs. Gas. Money. We talk about ordinary things: carseats, soy milk, Netflix queues, what our next car should be sometime in 2013.

In reality, we don't sit at home that much on the weekends. We went to Costco (soymilk and baby wipes), Babies R Us (more Playtex Dropins for Daycare), the grocery store, Frys (new mouse). In fact, that afternoon, we had spent an hour or so at our complex's pool. We went out to dinner on Friday, and walked around the mall. I even drank a margarita and bought a skirt! Last week, we had a visitor. We went to a wine tasting. Somehow, in that moment, none of that seemed exciting enough. Because it's not very exciting. It's life! Weekends in a family of two working parents are inevitably going to stuffed full of errands that pile up during the week. Weeknights are about cleaning up after dinner, picking up baby toys, and getting ready for the next morning, and oh yeah, resting.

In about a month, I'll be boarding a plane LaGuardia-bound with Mia for a visit with my college roommates, then spending a few days with my Aunt, and then heading to Chicago for another wedding, where B will meet us.. I'm sure by the time I'm a few days into single parenting Mia, I'll be daydreaming about my rut.

Strep o'clock

I feel like my blog posts of late revolve around looking forward to the weekend and the various diseases and infections that Mia brings home from daycare. So, for that reason, I am not going to dwell on the fact that Mia, B and I all three tested positive for Strep, are all three on a total of four different kinds of antibiotics, and all three had to take two sick days following a sick weekend. I won't even get into the story where I had an allergic reaction to the first antibiotic I was prescribed (shortness of breath, hives on my palms), having to catch the Minute Clinic nurse just before she was leaving to please give me something different, don't make me wait until morning THANKS! I'm also not going to dwell on the sinus pressure headache of the ages that I am currently experiencing, since the strep bacteria which gave me the most painful sore throat I've ever experienced has migrated up to my sinuses, despite being back at work because, let's be real, nobody can miss an impromptu 5 days in a row off work. Being back today makes it 4 (2 vacation days for my anticipated long weekend last week, and 2 sick days because of the Strep).

Instead, I'm going to show you a few pictures of how we were able to ignore our symptoms for a day, and entertain my high school friend J for the 36 hours of her visit. (She was supposed to be with u for four days, but she had a family emergency and had to delay her arrival from Thursday to Saturday -- everything is OK now, and it ended up being for the best, disease-wise)

Mia is visibly miserable, although we did not have confirmation that she was also in awful throat pain until Monday at 8am, which is when the pediatrician opens. I was stopping in every restroom between SharkReef at Mandalay Bay and The CocaCola store (not pictured) next to the MGM Grand to spray my throat with Chloraseptic, infinitely more times than the recommended amount of 1 spray every 2-3 hours. It was more like 3 sprays every hour, but you know.

 By tuesday evening, Mia had been on her antibiotics for 36 hours (me, day 3, Brian 35 hours) and was feeling well enough to earn her first evern baby time out. 2 minutes on a chair without getting off for deliberately knocking over a speaker after repeatedly being told to leave it alone and understanding perfectly.

Time Out, misunderstood as the "Mama won't let me get up game".

The Man Diets

Today is my friday! One of my best high school friends is coming to visit tomorrow through the weekend, and I spent the first two days of the week making sure I wouldn't have to come in Thursday morning as I initially thought I would. The good (and not so good) news is that I did manage to get everything checked off my to-do list. So, with the exception of my 15 remaining hours of CLE to be completed by the 30th, I'm free as a bird (so long as I'm within earshot of my the extremely fascinating gentleman speaking through my computer about the complexities of e-discovery).

Anyway, about three weeks ago, I started diligently logging my food intake using My Fitness Pal (thanks BeeBee!) Evidently, I had turned into a very annoying person, quickly searching my App for the calorie count of quite a few of the things B was putting in his mouth. "Did you just eat that whole bag of popcorn?? That's ---- calories!" I'm down three pounds, which is not a huge accomplishment, but at least shows that my goal of one pound per week is manageable, sustainable, and that so far, it's working. Bonus, it has also been effective at annoying my husband into downloading the app for himself and logging his own food intake!

So, based on B's height and weight and goal (the same as mine, 1 lb per week), he's allowed 2100 calories a day. That seems awfully high to me, seeing as I'm allowed 1400. But, my Fitness Pal is not wrong. Everytime I diet, I am always begging him to follow along. "It'll be so much easier for me to do this if you're doing it with me!". Well, not so when your husband sits down at the end of the day, checks his iPhone and sees that he's got x amount of calories left over after dinner. "OH, let me just eat some of these twizzlers left over from the movies on Saturday!" Great, enjoy those twizzlers while I sip my crystal light. Be careful what you ask for!

He's Cute and I Love Him...

Please tell me I'm not alone on this one, I love my son.  I would take a bullet for him.  I'd lay down my life for him.  I adore him with all my heart and soul...but some days...I just don't particularly *like* him.

Today is one of those days.  I know he means no harm.  Chances are it's more my PMS and upset stomach than his attitude.  But *everything* is getting on my nerves!  Many days I'd like to just cuddle.  In fact, I wish this usually curious and independent toddler would.  Today, of all days, he refuses to leave my side, won't let me leave the room (which made throwing up earlier today from some eggs gone wrong difficult), won't listen to anything I say or ask, stares at me with big empty eyes like he isn't comprehending when I know he is, and seems to purposely be doing the opposite of what I ask.  Oh, and my darling sleeper usually goes to bed around 11pm, sleeps through the night, wakes groggily for milk around 7 or 8am, and happily falls quickly back asleep for another couple of hours until 9 or 10am. (I should probably quickly explain-- he is put to bed between 9 and 10pm but he chooses to "play" in his crib until later--which is fine with me who has insomnia, his whole sleeping routine and sleepy-head nature is great for me actually--I fall asleep around 4am, drag myself up after a cat nap to give him milk at "first call" and fall back asleep like he does until 10am).  Anyway, today he was up for milk and diaper at 2am, which was no biggie because I hadn't fallen asleep yet, but then up and ready to go go go at 6:30am!  Which means I got slightly over 2 hours of sleep on which to deal with him today.

I'm staring at the clock counting down the minutes until Romeo will walk in the door from work.  Unfortunately, with his job each night is different.  Last night he shocked me by arriving home at 5:55 of his own accord!  Gasp!  Did he really get home before 6pm?  And without my prompting because there was something he or we had to do that night?  With my luck tonight will be a 7 or 7:30pm evening.  Well, when he does get home, Mommy's eating in the bedroom (if eating at all on this still woozy stomach), and Daddy is on full-time duty.  I only feel slightly sorry that Daddy doesn't know this yet.

Anyway, a long, long time ago, in a galaxy far far away, I promised you more pictures of Tybalt, this time with his hair short right after his first cut.  Well, the cut was months ago, I still haven't blogged about it (Oops!  Bad, Juliet, bad!), he actually now needs a new cut, but I do have his cute short hair pictures.  So, in order to keep me sane and remind us all how cute he is, and remind me how much I love him, lol, I thought now would be a decent time to put up some cute pics.  Even though they are 5 months old (from January when he was 17 months old and he's now coming up 22 months): Enjoy!

"Hi, Mommy!  Sure, I'll model for Grandma, but I think you forgot to put my glasses on me this morning!"

"Oh, you were serious about the modeling and smiling thing?  What's the big deal, all I did was get a haircut?  (And scream bloody murder throughout.)"

"What?  Modeling means staying still and smiling nicely?  I thought it meant running and giggling!"

So not interested in getting any good shots for his Grandma and Grandpa in Chicago.

"I'm cute."

"In fact, I'm A-D-O-R-A-B-L-E!"

AAAAAAAAAaaaaaannnnnnddddd, now he's found a cereal bowl and metal spoon to bang.  (Why can't think kid at least choose some quiet tupperware?)  Gotta go put an end to "band rehearsal" as he's now moving on to banging the furniture, the cabinet, and the cable box with said spoon...and now scraping the walls in the hallway.  Sigh....Romeo?  Romeo? Wherefore art thou, Romeo?

Father's Weekend Movie Marathon

A brief description of our father's day will give you a nice amount of insight into who my husband is (because you were all wondering). So, let's proceed:

B requested that we do the exact opposite of what we did on Mother's day, which was a jam packed day. So, yesterday, we had breakfast at our favorite breakfast place around the corner (exactly the same thing we did on Mother's day, failing so far), went to a use CD/DVD/Record store, where B combed the DVD aisles for hidden gems. I entertained Mia for the close to an hour we were there, by chasing her up and down the aisles, keeping her from touching the DVDs that she very much wanted to grab, and reading grown-up picture books to her (like the ones they sell at Urban Outfitters -- I didn't show her anything inappropriate, so hold your shocked horses). He came out of it smiling, with a few odd collection of used DVDs: Fever Pitch (Jimmy Fallon, Drew Barrymore), The Hangover (you know the one), and The Island (Ewan McGreggor, Scarlett Johansson). Here is what we can learn from those selections: He likes baseball, he likes to laugh, and he likes to watch ScarJo run around.

We came home and we all parked ourselves in the living room to have a B-requested movie marathon. That was absolutely fine with me, because I had two custom Frills bracelets to make. On the DVD player were: Recently purchased: The Island; Too Big to Fail (HBO docudrama about the collapse of Lehman Brothers and subsequent bank bailout); Total Recall (at this point I was kind of movie'd out and was not paying much attention, to B's chagrin. I was re-taking photos of my bracelets, since I realized a lot of the ones I had posted looked significantly less professional than the ones on other people's Etsy shops); and finally, The Hangover.

Appropriately, the Hangover was the last movie we watched, and I very much have a movie hangover today. B LOVES movies, and I am certain the day did not disappoint since, well... there were movies. Keep in mind, also, that Mia's daycare had a "parents night out", where they were open on Saturday night from 5-9, giving us enough time to grab a bite (B's choice: Falafel) and... you guessed it, a movie (B's choice: Prometheus).

If the Bachelorette wasn't on tonight, I'd say that the TV was staying off. But let's be honest, I can't even wait a day to see what drama happens this week!

The Crafting Bug

I have found a new craft I want to start making! This is big news because I love using my hands, but I'm not an artist nor great at all things naturally like our Frenchie, so while I like the look of many crafts, I rarely come across one I feel confident I could make and make well. And I found this and just fell in love.

What's even better is that I have not seen anyone sell them at the craft fairs in Vegas. So seeing it's not already out in the local fair and bazaar scene, I'd have a corner on the market of these. For once, I'd be doing something original! Woohoo! Usually I just follow the trends. (Okay, I got the idea from Pinterest, so not completely original, but something new to Vegas and the small community of dedicated crafters here.)

Anyway, my adrenaline is pumping. Hence the blog post at 3:30am!

Only issue-- can any crafters out there-- Frenchie I'm looking right at you, lol, but also any of our readers-- look at the pictures I've included and tell me: How would you attach the ribbon used for hanging? The "trays" are noted in the very basic description as being "fake silver" from the dollar store, so I am assuming that could mean either plastic or tin. I'm also seriously considering thrift store and garage sale shopping for better metal trays (though probably not real silver; depends on what bargains I can find). How would you attach ribbon to either material? If it was tin, I'd be prone to say a metal punch and put a grommet in and thread ribbon through, but there are no "holes" in the photos, so that's obviously not what the original crafter did. What do you think?

(Note: Picture is courtesy of more than one Pinterest.com board, and they credit "signaturestyleblog.com," but she credits back to Pinterest and no one person's specific account, so I don't have the copyright nor know the exact citation.)

Grand Opening!

Guess what I've been up to in the two hours between Mia's bedtime and my bedtime?

Frenchie's Frills Etsy Shop

Here are a few pictures of my start up pieces, but take a look at what I have available.

My absolute favorite bracelet, it's teasing me from its jewelry bag, whispering at me to take the listing down and keep it for myself!

I improved on the design I found at Ten Ten Knits, ordered some nice colored leather, experimented with different bead sizes and leathers, and... I just couldn't stop buying and making these bracelets! My initia idea was just to do area craft fairs, but there don't seem to be many around these parts at the moment. So, an Etsy shop seemed like a good place to start.

No Etsy sales yet, but I do have a couple of custom order requests here and there :)

Crime Spree

I just checked, and it was March 26th that I last posted about police action right outside my apartment. That's only what, like a little more than 2 months ago?! And it had been a Sunday night too. Well, last night it happened again! Not a shooting this time, luckily, and at 9pm, not the middle of the night, and no cops banging on my door this time, so okay, not at all the same thing I guess when I add all that up...but still, come on! What the heck is going on around here? This time I heard a helicopter before anything else, and I could hear it circling around two or three times and saw the spotlight (through my bathroom window, no less). I looked out the bedroom window and there were two cop cars, one of which had lights going, and was blocking my SUV in the carport outside!

Last night I got more bold than before, because at this point it was kind of like, "What the ____?" Plus I could see other residents outside like peeping toms, so I assumed were weren't talking a high danger level here. So yes, I walked outside, in my shorts and pajama top, sports bra underneath, and my Crocs. (I was a sight to behold, I'm sure!) There was police tape at the end of the 10 space carport aligning with the end of the building I live in, so great, it happened next to my farthest neighbor this time, just not my next door one. Insert sarcasm, groan, and slight dread here.

Anyway, I couldn't see much in the dark except police with flashlights and I could tell it was around the corner of the building. I figured it was bad enough for my neighbors to see me dressed like that-- I wasn't going to venture any closer to cops and official business, plus, I wasn't quite *that* bold. But two elderly gentlemen were walking back to their apartments, having finished nosing around (a little further than me) and I was able to ask and get their version of the story.

So, as of now, it goes that apparently the cops came for a resident (or they followed someone driving a truck into the development, that's unclear) and the "person of interest" decided to try to speed away from the cops in their truck. While doing so, they lost control, veered off the roadway, and crashed up onto a grassy area between my apartment building and the one to the east of us. I guess they also fled on foot at that point, hence the police helicopter searching above.

Unlike the last time, I have not taken Tybalt out to "go get the mail" and spy on the leftover evidence myself yet. (Not for lack of curiosity, but rather because it's 100 degrees outside.) So I don't have any follow-up details or anything yet. But, just thought I'd give you the latest episode of the soap opera that apparently resides where I do!

Frustrating Sunday

Lately, I've been seriously neglecting my apartment. I've been letting clean laundry stack up unfolded, I've been piling things on the guest bed rather than putting them away, I've been letting my dining table get full of jewelry-making and knitting clutter. Sunday, after being surprised by a trail of ants coming from my laundry room and invading my kitchen and Mia's daycare backpack, enough was enough.

Despite having been awoke before 6am by Mia, who refused to go back to sleep, B offered me a 5 hour energy that some reps had dropped off at the Bank. I popped that little bottle (my first 5 hour energy) and seriously felt a burst of energy 10 minutes later. It was kind of impressive, actually. Four hours into my energy burst, and I had vacuumed every corner of my apartment, scrubbed my couch cushions with oxy-clean, killed all the ants I could find with a vinergar and water mixture, put all picture frames that had a hook on the back up onto the wall to declutter our bookshelves and entertainment center, dusted said bookshelves and entertainment center and rearranged a few small pieces of furniture. Our main living area looked awesome, save the remaining jewelry-making tools on the dining table.

I really wanted to move on to our bedroom, but as soon as I glanced around to see what I could get rid of or rearrange,  all I could do rule out all the game plans I came up with. I threw my hands up and gave up. Also, my five hours were up. Our bedroom, which should be a serene and restful place for B and I to relax at the end of the day instead became a repository for furniture that has nowhere else to live. In addition to our bed and our two dressers, we also have an enormous dog crate and a desk. The dog crate has to stay around as long as Chloe is around (Did I really just type something so crass?), since she's still likely to urinate all over our carpets when we aren't at home, or when we're sleeping. We will not throw out the desk since it is a nicer piece of IKEA (oximoron?) furniture, which we bought in Chicago back when we had a guestroom that did not double as a nursery. Unfortunately, we do not have any kind of storage where to move said desk, or to put the huge dog crate in favor of a more beagle-size dog crate. Our bedroom has a large walk-in closet, but it is already full of who knows what. We toyed with the idea of getting a garage that our apartment complex rents out, but that is an extra $100 a month that we do not have in the budget.

So, I reach the same conclusion writing this out as I did when I collapsed on the couch on Sunday evening (woozy from the 5 hour energy, by the way): We have to move. I am currently hating our apartment complex manager who somehow sold us on some bullshit that there were no more 6 month leases available, making us sign an 8 month lease. So instead of the end of September, we're stuck here until the end of November.

Let me end on a more positive note. Tomorrow's my Birthday! Because of some AT&T activation stuff, I got my iPhone upgrade a couple of days early (from a very slow 3GS to a 4S -- Siri is mispronouncing my real name, so I just asked her to call me Frenchie!) and it's really pretty. Also, this:

At least the Bachelorette is on tonight!