Just try and keep up

Hey y'all.  I'm drunk.  My husband got me drunk because he's the best husband in the whole world and getting drunk is exactly what I needed.  And he's the best husband because he knows that and he opened up a good bottle of wine and gave it to me.  Because I've had a shit day and I don't know how much longer I'm going to be able to backspace and retype to make this coherent so I apologize if I get weird.  Just try and keep up because I'm 'bout to brain drain. I was gonna say dump but that's ugly and I'm not ugly.  So we drain.

But STOP.  Before I do anything else in my life, everyone who is reading this must click this link right here.  Click it, and read my love letter.  You know how long it's been since I've gotten a love letter?  From someone I'm not sleeping with?  That shit is unprecedented.  And it just took me twelve backspaces to type that right.  Sometimes, when you blog, you 'meet' a person who is your huckleberry.  Your blogging boo piece.  Ryan is mine.  Love.  Just love.

Okay, so did you go read my love letter?  Okay good.  Because we have important business to attend.  My brain drumping.  Draining.  Not dumping.  Seriously, I should just video this shit.  You know how hard is it to type drunk?  Like if I didn't backspace and sit here and stare at the screen to make sure you can read this, it would be all ridiculous.  I briefly thought about not backspacing, but then you wouldn't be able to read it and we have important business to attend.

Okay, but wait.  No.  I mean.......shit.  Where was I?  okay  wait.

Okay.

so, today I was just sucking as a mom.  Oh wait, I have to upload pictures so I can illustrate my suckitude.  Hold please.

Okay, so I'm realizing this might be the longest post in the history of the universe because I got issues y'all so I'm probably going to break this up.  This is so not going to make sense in the  morning.

Whatever.  Okay, the first order of business.  My fashion.  I needs help.  Drew is not having a company Christmas party this year but we are going to dinner with a group of his work people and I need something to wear.  Remember how I told you my dresser lived in the guest room?

Because the rules of blogging state that thou shalt put pictures in your posts

so thou's readers don't get bored.

Not because you don't know what a dresser looks like.

Y'all are smart like that and I would never insult you.  You're so pretty.

SO!  A few weeks ago, we cleaned out my dresser and Drew's dresser with the goal of combining them, and amazingly enough, we were successful.

Taking some time out to be cute in the midst of purging.

Real talk, I don't need anything else in my life.

I'm still kind of sad that I had a miscarriage.

Everything that was in my dresser.  

PS, we got a white duvet cover.

Herein lies the problem.

Okay, marinate on the above picture for a minute.  Goodwill got everything that was ridiculously huge on me.  PS, when did I ever think it was cool to wear XL stuff?  Even when I was nine months pregnant, I wasn't an XL.  Why did I think looking like a hobo was cute?

Then, all the summer stuff got put in bins to go downstairs, as well as all the maternity stuff that I hope I get to wear again someday.  Yoga stuff went in a drawer and the shirts that are in regular rotation went in the above drawer.  You see that?  I have about five shirts in regular rotation and four of them are long sleeve tshirts in different colors from either Target or Old Navy.

This is a problem.

When did this happen to me?  I used to dress cute and fashionably.  No lie y'all, I have about ten items of clothing and they're all long sleeve tshirts, cardigans, tank tops for layering and sweaters.  No cute button downs, no flowy blouses, no cute and trendy nothing.  Oh, and two pair of jeans, one bootcut one skinny.  

Now, to be fair, I'm a stay at home mom.  I don't really need an extensive wardrobe and at this stage in the game I'd rather spend money on house stuff.

HOWEVER!

We're going to Drew's work dinner next week and we got a babysitter and everything.  I want to be cute.  I want to wear heels and dangly earrings.  And I can't wear a long sleeve tshirt from Target.

ALSO HOWEVER!

Looking like a frump has an effect on your outlook.  That's why I've started to put makeup on every morning.  Because I was for real starting to look like an old hag and I was starting to feel like an old hag and then I would be sad.  No lie, putting makeup on every morning, even if it's just mascara and lip stuff, makes me feel better and more put together.  Except then I go and put on a long sleeve tshirt and one of my two pairs of jeans.  Oh well, at least they fit.

But anyway!

I'm lost.  I don't know where to go for a cute going out top and shopping is not an option.  One, because I live in Reading, Pennsylvania.  Also known as the place where shopping goes to die.  I was at Target today, because of course I was at Target today, and I noticed a Kohl's going in across the street.  And I got excited.  And then I got depressed.  Because I was excited about a Kohl's y'all.  What is happening to me?  I used to care about fashion.  I used to go shopping.  The cool kind of shopping.

You know, shopping where you spend all day wandering in and out of stores, trying on random shit, checking out your ass in the mirror from all the angles, taking your time, posing, standing on your tippy toes.  You know, shopping.  

Shopping with a toddler is more like, barrel into ONE store, beeline for something in a color that you vaguely like, check lightening fast that it's your size, snatch it up, buy it and run out before your kid realizes that they're in public and it's time to act a damn fool.  Then get home and be all pissed that you got an XL when you meant to get an XS.  Throw it on the top shelf of your closet and wear it when you want to feel like a hobo.  That's what shopping with a toddler is like.

So help me out y'all.  The work thing is next Thursday and this is my one chance Fancy don't let me down.  Most days I'm fine with my tshirts and jeans because let's be real, my kid and my dog don't care what I wear and I spend my life on the floor playing with blocks and you don't need designer shit for that.  But this one night I want to be pretty, I need to be pretty again.  It's been so long since I've been pretty.  I need websites, where I can order shit during naptimes.  I need the super secret cute-top-websites that make it where you buy a shirt and don't feel like a frumpy loser mom.  Where is that website?  

Because my Target-Old-Navy wearin' ass obviously doesn't have the first clue.

Next up, the next reason why I suck.  Because even though ya'll are the best readers on EARTH, I don't expect you to read through a long-ass rambly post.

SO!  Cute tops that go with jeans and dangly earrings!  GO!

Official diagnosis

I went to the doctor yesterday and it's official:

I have an acute case of Old Hag-itis and it's causing my Uterus Assholicus to flare up.  Lucky for me, there's no cure.

I know now why I was dreading going to the doctor yesterday.  Somewhere in my mind, I knew what she was going to tell me and I didn't want to hear it.  There was no real reason for the miscarriage other than something went terribly wrong in development, my body recognized that this would be a baby who would suffer horribly, and it stopped that from happening.  

I have to frame it that way so that I can be sane, because saying my body haaaaaaaaates being pregnant and will kill all new life is just depressing.  I can handle having Old Hag-itis and even Uterus Assholicus as long as I don't think about my body killing babies.

Because that's what it boils down to.  Any woman of child-bearing age is susceptible to miscarriage due to chromosomal abnormalities.  That's the polite way of saying that things would be so majorly fucked up that Mother Nature took pity on your soul and ended it before it got ugly.  So even though I have the clotting disorders that make me prone to that certain kind of miscarriage, the chromosomal abnormality miscarriage is always there.

And it stands to reason that since I also suffer from Old Hag-itis, there is a greater chance than zero that I will miscarry again.  As my eggs age, they are less likely to cooperate and give me a healthy baby.  The thought makes me look at Sofia as truly a miracle child.

The doctor wanted me to get an ultrasound to make sure everything was out of there, but then I showed her a picture of the tissue, because of course I took a picture.  I had no idea what it was, I didn't know if I should be worried and I certainly had no intentions of saving it.  I'm actually glad I did, because it turned out to be an intact gestational sac and once she saw it, she said she was confident that nothing else was inside of me.  She does want me to get a blood test to make sure my levels have dropped down to zero, but I'm kind of wondering what's the point.  I'm sure there's nothing left, I'm sure my body is working overtime to get back to its non-pregnant state, the state that it loooooves so much.  Fucking body.

I left the doctor's office and started home and that's when it hit me.  There's no reason for the miscarriage.  It'll probably happen again and there's nothing I can do about it.

And I started crying.  

Sofia was asleep in the backseat and instead of going home, I just kept driving around, having my mental tantrum.

I thought I was done with these stupid miscarriages.  That was the fucking deal - do the shots, get the baby.  There was no mention of more fucking miscarriages.  

How many more am I going to have?  How many more can I take?  What is this doing to my body long-term?  What is wrong with me?

This is so fucking unfair.  Why me?  But then, why not me?  Is this what I get, for wanting more than what I have in Sofia?  Don't be dumb, that's not how it works.  Or is it?  STOP IT.

Gah, am I really going to have more miscarriages?  Am I really going to have to do this again?  For real, how many more times do I have to DO this?  What if I end up with some god-awful number like ten miscarriages?  What would that even look like?

But I can't give up yet.  Can I?  Will the desire in my heart go away?  Will I always long for that little soul?  Will I be one of those old women with sadness in her eyes?  That can't be me.  I don't want that to be me.

What if that's me?

I cried softly, hoping not to wake Sofia.  I got Chick-Fil-A for dinner, because I certainly was not in the headspace to cook, and by the time we got home, she was awake and calling out "Chicken! Chicken!"

Drew had a work dinner so it was just the two of us and I have to admit, I was more than a little emo, gazing at her all deep and pensive-like, trying to see into our future and wondering how it would be if it were just the two of us forever.  Metaphorically of course, because in real life it's the four of us, but you know what I mean.

....................................

Sofia's new thing is dancing and every time I turn around, she's right there with her arms up, her angel face looking up at you and that perfect little mouth saying "Dance! Dance!"

So after dinner I turned on Pandora, scooped her up and we twirled in the kitchen.  Her laughter was so light and carefree and as I caught glimpses of us in the mirror, the love I felt for her threatened to have me start bawling right then and there.  But instead, I laughed.

That night, my daughter and I danced and danced and laughed and laughed and I felt a small peace return to my heart.

Grief painting

I spent the whole weekend wondering if I was still pregnant, or if this next minute would be the one where I'd start bleeding.  It was hell.  I hated not knowing and I found myself slowly going just a little bit crazy.  So when Drew stepped in and said "Hey, I'll watch the baby.  Why don't you finish your table," I was so grateful to have somewhere else to focus my energy.

A couple of months ago, I went to a consignment sale with a friend of mine.  I'd always wanted to go to one, but one thing or another always got in the way.  But this time, the stars aligned and we went to the JBF sale at the Reading Expo, which is a giant convention center.

I had a list of clothes I wanted to find but when we went in, I ended up making a beeline for the furniture.  I didn't know consignment sales had furniture, and I just knew the good stuff would get snatched up quick.  That's how I ended up coming home with this guy.

It was a little loud and scary but for $20, he was coming home with me.

Especially when West Elm's version, which isn't even available anymore,

was costing more than 100 bucks just for the table!

A little spray paint ought to quiet you down nicely.

I was paranoid about the designs showing through on the chairs, so I went crazy with the sandpaper and primer.  I must have put five coats of primer on the chair seats and backs.  I didn't put any on the legs because I ran out of steam.

Outside, ready for paint.

It took two full cans of Rustoleum's Gloss White, plus a little from a third can.

I brought them in to dry overnight and then I sanded them with a finishing block, so it wasn't so rough feeling.  I wonder if all spray paint is like that, or if it's just Rustoleum, but the chairs and table legs felt like sandpaper.  So much for glossy white, but it was nothing a little sanding couldn't handle.

Then I painted a chalkboard top for the table and that took forever.  That was like five or six coats too, but I'm really pleased with how it came out.  I even free-handed a little monogram on the back for Sofia - that's what I got at Michael's before I got stuck in their bathroom.

So, what do you think?

Behold, the power of white spray paint.

Sofia thought it was pretty cool too.

She's learning her colors and if you ask her, she'll tell you 

her favorite color is green.

So of course, we had to go green with the monogram.

"That's an S for Sofia!"

I like to imagine she's saying "Not bad, Mom!"

Getting a closer look.

I also got this rocking chair at the consignment sale - five bucks!

He's just waiting for his coat of yellow spray paint.

Thus ended our photoshoot, because someone thinks that being a daredevil is fun.

before

after

Not too bad, right?

It was so helpful to have something to do to pass the time, and I'm really happy with how her little table came out.  I still have lots to do before her room is done *coughcurtainscough* but crossing a project off the list feels good.

What about you?  Have you ever been to one of those consignment sales?  Did you score any good stuff?  I got Sofia's Christmas dress for five bucks!

*I go to the doctor in a couple of hours and I wrote this to distract myself while the baby sleeps.  It only sorta worked.