That time a miracle happened

Me and my hormones have been fighting, y'all.  Last night I was bawling my eyes out because I don't know how to dress a newborn and I gave away all of my winter newborn clothes, so of course New Baby is going to have a terrible start in life and it's going to be all my fault.  My lovely husband does not have the first clue about pregnancy hormones and sat there bewildered at why I was crying over our lack of newborn socks.  He kept asking me what was wrong.  Hmmm, I'm almost five months pregnant, it's 9 o'clock at night and I'm sitting on the bed crying because we have no newborn socks.  What in the world could possibly be wrong here?  How about, I'm five months pregnant, it's 9 o'clock at night and we have no newborn socks.  That's as good a reason as any to bust out crying, wouldn't you say? 

And just as quickly as it started, I went to bed and woke up refreshed and happy and 'normal' again.  I tell you what, these hormones are a trip.

It is in this state, the happy normal state, that I'm going to write.  The other state is just ridiculous and I have fun stuff to write about!  This first one you're going to need to sit down, it's that serious.

About a year ago, I was on the hunt for the perfect diaper bag.  My original bag was gorgeous and I loved it but it wasn't cutting it, so I surrendered to a formal diaper bag.  It was still stylish and cute and it carried everything I wanted it to, but there was still a longing in my heart.

Kate - I love you, I miss you, I think of you often.

I still randomly thought about ways that I could bring Kate home to me; I thought about what I could sell, be it my clothes, my shoes, my hair.  But then I got pregnant again and Sofia started school and we need to do another nursery, and we redid our bedroom and we need to get stuff for that, and we're redoing the laundry room, and the stuff we needed pushed my Kate further and further away.  Ah well, such is life.  For a fleeting moment, I wondered if I could wrangle a Kate out of Drew as my push present.

Then one day, I got an email from a friend of mine.  She said I could tell this story, but she didn't say if I could use her name so for now she's going to be 'a friend of mine.'  She reads the blog, but we have totally bonded over our stellar, rock-star parents (can you see your brain because you rolled your eyes so hard?  Good.)  I emailed with her for hours on the 4th of July just talking about parents, kids and life stuff.  She's a super cool chick and of course she lives on the other side of the country, because that's how these things work.  

On this fateful day, I opened my email and she was like, So hey, would you be interested in a Belle?  It's not the Kate, but it's nice too.  I emailed her back that I would love a Belle, but Drew would most certainly divorce me if I spent money on something I didn't need, as there are so many other things that we have to get right now.  

Ok, I have to collect myself, because here's where I start squealing and hyperventilating.

........

She was like, No, I'll give it to you.

Now, what I really want to do is put that previous sentence in giant bold neon pink flashy letters because that's how major that is.  But I'm trying to be cool here, so please read that in giant flashy letters because that's how I felt.  I nearly fell out of my chair.  Actually, what I did was get up from my computer and walk to the other side of the house, because I was certain that my computer was going to explode or something after a statement like that.  People don't just give you your dream diaper bag.  Things like that don't happen in real life and I just knew my computer was possessed.

I tiptoed back to my computer to see that it hadn't exploded.  I responded to the email with lots of caps locks and exclamation points and stuttery sentences.  Somehow I gave her my address; I can't be sure because I was in a fog.  I insisted on paying for shipping; she said no, that she had enough money for postage in her couch cushions, which is really funny because I use that exact same phrase all the time.  I smiled out loud when I read that.  We use the same phrase!  We're practically twins! (Don't act like you don't do the same thing.)

And then I waited, certain that the bag would never come, that this was a trick of some sort because these types of things just don't happen.  Yet, one day a box was on my front step and I brought it inside and didn't open it for nearly a week, because I knew what was inside and I was afraid that if I opened it, the bag would disintegrate because it was never real in the first place.  

Then I opened the box, and commenced to squealing and hyperventilating because sitting there, in real life, was the most beautiful bag I'd ever seen.  I actually took a video of me opening it, but I quickly erased it because it sounded like a porn.  There was lots of heavy breathing and lots of whispered 'Oh my God' and things like that should never be subjected to your delicate ears.  So I took pictures instead.

    It's everything I dreamed it would be and more.

Love at first sight.

Another photoshoot, a couple of days later, after I'd calmed down.

Also, I swear I'm pregnant.  For some reason, I don't feel like I'm showing

as quickly this time around, although the baby is measuring a little bigger than the dates.

I'm definitely not complaining, it just makes it hard to take belly pictures.

18-ish weeks and there's just not much to see yet.

And I really need to quit taking pictures in the Bathroom of Hate

but it's the only place with a large enough mirror.

And then it sat in my bedroom for another week because I was afraid to soil its grace 

and beauty with my lowly peasant possessions.

So it sat, perched atop a throne of dirty clothes.  

This bag deserved more than that, I know.

I was so in awe of the amazing kindness of my friend and I kept questioning how it was that I came to be so blessed, that it took over a week to dawn on me.  I'm sure you saw it the second you saw the first picture, but it took me a while longer because I was in such a daze.

This bag was not the Belle.  In fact, it was the KATE.

When someone offers to give you a diaper bag that magnificent, you don't bother with the details.  You get down on your knees and give a prayer of thanks that you have been blessed, and you sure as hell don't scrutinize your amazing gift. That's why it took me a minute to realize that this bag was my ultimate dream diaper bag, not simply another amazing bag from the same bad-ass designer.  Then I got all squealy and started hyperventilating all over again.  

I ran to look at the email again.  My friend said she was getting the Kate and did I want the Belle, yet the Kate was sitting in my bedroom.  There was only one explanation.  She'd given me the wrong bag.  I fell over myself running back to my computer, barely typing fast enough to explain the mix-up, reassuring her that I hadn't even used the bag, I'd barely even breathed on it and I would put it back in the mail to her that day.

She lol'd, told me she ended up going a different way, and that the Kate was mine to keep.

Please read that in giant neon flashy letters.

I reverently walked into my bedroom, gently lifted Kate from her throne and ceremoniously began to transfer my things from my Marilyn to the Kate.  My Kate.  It's smaller than the Marilyn, but everything fit and there was even room to spare.  That's the magic of the Kate.  

This bag is so beautiful, it's insanely well-made and it's easily the prettiest thing I own.  And it was a gift.  From an amazing awesome friend to whom I am forever grateful.  For real and for serious.

So here's the thing - I need to pay this forward.  I cannot be the only person who gets to be this happy.  That's why I want one of you to have my Marilyn.

I just went on the Timi and Leslie website and this is a discontinued style.

So you can say it's a limited edition, and be even cooler.

Then in a few years, you can say it's vintage and people will bow down to you.

A few years after that, it becomes a classic.  That's how these things work.

Anyway, I want one of you to have it.  I have no idea how to do this, as I'm typing this as I'm thinking it up.  I'm not a big time blogger who does giveaways once a week.  I've never in life done a giveaway because I hate the thought of only one winner; I love you guys so much I wish I could give you all a diaper bag.  But since I have zero dollars to my name, this is the best I can do because I want to do something and this is what I came up with.

The bag is as good as new and it's gorgeous - you know I wouldn't have chosen it if it wasn't awesome.  It has all the accessories except for the bottle holder; since I breastfed I never bothered with bottles and I didn't get too concerned when it got lost in the move.  Although, I'll look around and see if I can't find it for you.  I think I may have seen it in my closet.

ANYWAY!  I'm so rambling right now!  Leave me a comment but I don't know, try to say something more than 'Gimme yer bag!'  Even though I'm going to use random.org to pick a number for me, I just wouldn't feel right giving it to someone I've never heard from before who was all, Gimme gimme!  Although if that's how you want to be, I don't suppose I can stop you, but I will hope that the random number picker doesn't pick you.  But you guys are so amazing and wonderful that I know that won't happen.  I've just seen giveaways where the greedy ugly people come out and it's just greedy and ugly.

Good LORD let me stop typing already!  Ok!  Leave a comment, get a bag!  I'll take care of shipping it to you; I've got postage money in my couch cushions.  Except, don't hate me, but it's got to be someone in the lower 48.  I don't have enough postage money to be sending things to Australia and stuff.  We'll do this until Wednesday, I'll pick Thursday morning, get your info and I'll put it in the mail on Friday.  Sound good?

Once again, my friend, you are beautiful and I thank you so very much.  Every time I pick up my kick ASS diaper bag I stand a little taller and I smile a little bit.  You did that.  

Thank you.