come again?

Let me start with an admission. I have a tendency to speak before I think more often than not.

Es no bueno.

Thankfully this little disorder seems to be getting better with age. Thank you sweet heavens. It doesn't happen with everybody.

I have had some of the oddest things said to me since having BG. It's something about carting a child around that makes people just flap their jaws in your directon.

I've had more people ask me "when are y'all going to have another one?" or tell me "you need a boy" (I actually only NEED food and water thanks) or pass along "you don't want them to be too spaced out" as another adage of wisdom from so many fine folks.

One lady told me once that it's a shame my child looked nothing like me but I could always hope the next one might. One lady told me I would never look good again because my baby stole all my good looks.

People are peachy aren't they?

Seriously, they will say anything.

But the best one ever...

So BG and I are perusing the purse section of TJ Maxx one day. This was probably February and I still hadn't gotten around to joining WW and was still packing a few extra poundage in the mid section area. Fun.

So we're shopping when I see this cute old lady smiling and making eyes at BG in the cart. I smile back and she comes over to us.

"How old is she?" she asks nodding at BG.

"Ten and a half months" I said with a big 'ol smile.

Then the lady furrows her brow and looks at BG and then looks back at me like she's figuring something out.

"Ten months? Well she's such a pretty girl isn't she?" she's practically cooing at BG by this point.

Then she turns to me and puts. her. hand. on. my. poochage. and says "and another one on the way so soon?".

I was floored. But thankfully my mouth can always be counted on so I spit out "oh no. That's just the bits and pieces this one left behind".

And with that, I had to move on because I was mortified.

I also came home and signed up for WW. The truth comes out.

i must confess....

In an attempt to "keep it real", which let's be honest, I usually am to the point of being too much so, I'm just putting some stuff out there.

Sometimes I feel like the world's worst Mom because there are times, I can't deal with hearing BG whine for one more second. The other night on the 3 1/2 hour drive home, she screamed/whined/cried the entire trip. Mr. P sat in the driver's seat cool, calm and collected as I just about lost my mind. He told me to "ignore her" (she was fed, dry, just overtired big time) and I looked at him like he was crazy. I could easier ignore someone ripping my fingernails off. It's that bad. Her whining? is like nails on a chalkboard to me. Only far, far worse.

She's at the age where the tantrums come quickly and fiercely. Sometimes by the time her Dad gets home from work, I just want to tag out. She is exhausting me. I know one day I will adore that feisty spirit, but right now... wow. I am tired.

Occasionally I like to go in the bathroom to "use" it, but instead I sit on the floor and read a magazine or catch up on tweets. It is about the only peace and quiet I get these days. I also read in the shower. I've been doing it since I was a teenager and am a pro at it. It's my "me" time.

At night I sneak into BG's room and pick her up and just hold and rock her. Sometimes in the madness that is her being all over the place and the assertion of her very will full spirit, I forget that she is still just a baby. My sweet, sweet baby. At night, in the peace and quiet I just soak up that baby smell that is so quickly fading. Gosh.. I just love her.

Anything you want to get off your chest today?

today.

Today I am tired.

I cannot sleep at night and therefore am flat out spent when BG decides it's time to get up in the morning.

I'm tired.

I am completely overwhelmed by every thing I need to get done today. I cannot muster up the energy to do one more load of laundry, pick up one more toy, clean one more bathroom. The thought of having to pack up and go to the grocery store makes me want to crawl back in bed.

I am so over having to walk the dogs outside in the cold multiple times a day. I'm over having to walk so far to check the mail or take out the trash. Over it.

I'm sick or worrying about what step comes next for us. Worrying about financial issues, whether or not I should get another job, and if I should, what do I want to do? I'm pissed off that we're even in the situation that I have to worry about this.

Today I'm pissed that we moved. I miss my house. I miss my yard. I even miss my other dog who is hanging out in Maryland with the parents. I miss my friends. I miss my job. I miss my co-workers. I even miss my boss.

We got a letter from BG's sitter in Savannah asking about her last night and it broke my heart. I miss them. I miss having people around that love us and our little one.

I miss home.

I'm sick of being spit up on multiple times a day. Of having food thrown in my face. Of being smacked in the face when I try to cuddle the little one.

I am tired.

I'm sick of being overweight. I'm sick of exercising and not seeing results. I'm sick of my clothes being so tight that I feel like I can't breathe. I'm sick of watching what I eat. I'm sick of the meatheads that are on my treadmill every night.

I'm disappointed that in myself that I haven't worked out in four days. I have mad guilt about that. I have guilt about BG not having play dates. It's eating me up.

I am so tired.

I realize that tomorrow is another day. I realize that I am so, so lucky to have my sweet little girl and a roof over our heads. I realize that her smile really does make everything better. I realize that I'm blessed to have a husband who loves me and works so hard for our family.

I get all that.

But I am just tired.

Today sucks.

i live in a madhouse.

I attempted dinner again tonight.

If you've read this blog for long you know that usually ends in disaster.

True to form, tonight was no different.

I decided to make a potato soup with spinach and sausage. I've been doing real well at planning our meals for the week on Sunday and going to the grocery store after church while Mr. Perfect watches BG. It takes the whole standing in the kitchen staring into cupboards guess work out of what to make for dinner.

So back to tonight. I've sliced up the potatos, opted out of the onions because I can't figure out how to cut them (don't say a word), and am getting ready to boil the Italian sausage.

Then Mr. P walks in.

"What's that water for?" he asks pointed at the 1/2 inch of water in the skillet that the recipe definitely called for.

"The sausage" I say.

He gives me this quizzical look as I pull the link of smoked sausage out of the water.

After consulting the recipe, he quickly comes to the conclusion that I am indeed using the wrong sausage.

Freaking kidding me.

And the wrong spinach.

So dinner fail.

And we're on a super budget so no going out for food.

Totinos it is. Blah.

As if it that's not enough, as I'm walking into BG's room to put her laundry away, something comes flying out of her bathroom and sails right in front of my face.

I look over to see Mr. Perfect bent in half laughing so hard he has tears coming out of his eyes.

I then look to see what almost wacked me in the face.

A rolled up dirty diaper.

Is he serious???

It took us a full five minutes to stop laughing while BG sat in the tub and stared at us like we were insane.

Who lets us live on our own??

the best worst day ever.

Yesterday was a horrible day.

Or it was an absolutely amazing day.

Hmm...

Depends on how you look at it. Some things happened that made it the worst day I've had in a while.

But then some things happened that made it rock.

Yesterday I overslept big time. Being rushed does not do good things to my mood. Add in the fact that our house is half packed and very messy and I can't find jack, and you end up with a very pissed off girl before I've even had a cup pot of coffee.

BG wanted to play with her food instead of eat, wanted to have two dirty diapers in the span of ten minutes, and wanted to play instead of get dressed.

I couldn't find scrubs, couldn't find my keys, and spilled my Cheerio's (which I had to eat out of a measuring cup because I couldn't find a bowl).

Le sigh..

Finally I got the two of us out the door, BG still rocking her pajamas. Got loaded in the car, got behind the wheel, and.. nothing.

My daggum car wouldn't start.

Y'all. I lost it.

I got BG back out of the car and called my Papa to come jump off the car. I was bawling as I waited on him to get there.

So I took BG back to her room to play for a bit and while we were back there...

..she figured out how to crawl!!!!!

And I was there. Which I would have totally missed had my car started.

Not that I'm pleased as punch at my car for sucking at life, but you know, just trying to put it in perspective.

After a day at work in which the computers crashed and clients were in rare form, I got in the car (after having to have it jumped off again- grr) and headed to pick up the little one.

Who was in a glorious mood. Smiling, laughing, and lighting up when she saw me.

I've mentioned before how much I love her right?!

Then last night, my child ate her dinner with no fighting, smiled and laughed through her bath, let me rock her while she rubbed my face, and went to bed little resistance. Where she promptly slept through the night which she hasn't done in weeks.

Sometimes I need a shake up on my perspective on life.

Yesterday was one of those days. So while it was one of the worst days I've had in a while and made me cry multiple times, it was also great.

BG does that.

Getting Real.

Amy writes one of the blogs that I most consistently read and have read for years. Amy and her husband have been battling infertility for years, and she is one person I find myself praying for very often. Today she is offering up stories of encouragement to those of you out there that are waiting on husbands or children or whatever the case may be, and I thought I'd share a bit of my story you might not have heard before.

Mr. Perfect and I met, fell in love, and got married in a whirlwind. It was so fast, it literally made my head spin. In our first year together, we also found ourselves dealing with not one, but two, miscarriages and the repercussions of those losses. For a couple of people that had only known each other for a year, it was a lot to deal with.

Infertility is hard on a marriage. Very, very hard. Even though you go through it as a couple, it can also be a ridiculously isolating experience. I had so many fears about our miscarriages; was it me? Was it my fault? Was I going to be the reason my husband never got to be a father? Did I do something to deserve this?

I turned in on myself after my second loss. I could have cared less about myself, my marriage, or what I was doing to us as a couple. It was hard. In the middle of all that, we were moving all over the place, I missed home, my family, my friends, I was twenty two.. It was just too much..

Things got better and then we suffered our third loss. After that loss, we called it quits on trying to have a biological child. I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't deal with getting my hopes up just to have the rug pulled out from underneath me. I couldn't deal with the pain of recovering from surgery. I was just over it. It was too much.

At the end of 2008, I began to push everyone away again. I don't know how Mr. Perfect put up with me as I went on a self destructive tangent. I needed everything to quit hurting and I couldn't find a way to make that happen. I ran from everything. I ran from church, from Mr. Perfect, from God, from my family... I just wanted a break.

Somewhere in my haze that was the end of 2008, I got pregnant again. Our relationship was on very shaky ground, but we came together for this child. We prayed over it and asked God to forgive us for who we had become. Right before I got pregnant, Mr. P had gotten saved and was a totally different man. He really stepped up to become the leader in our household. I fell in love all over.

We lost that baby at Christmas. I got saved in February.

Marriage is the hardest thing I've ever done. I'm not good at opening up at all and when you add in the recurrent pregnancy loss, well, it makes it even more difficult. I've gotten called out in emails before about how I portray my life as "perfect". Maybe I do. Because to me, it absolutely is.

After I got saved in 2009, it became so clear to me the damage I had caused. But somehow, I was forgiven for all of that. Mr. Perfect was still here, my marriage was better than ever, my family still rallied around me. God's grace was amazing and became even more so.

In August of 2009 I got another positive pregnancy test. And exactly 39 weeks later, I got my miracle child.

Y'all. She was so, so worth the wait.

I let you in on a darker side of this girl for one reason; there is always, always hope. I thank God that He watched over the two of us, even when we weren't listening to anything He had to say. I thank God that He is a God that forgives and always loves us, even when we don't love ourselves.

Life is hard. It's downright heartbreaking sometimes. I don't pretend to understand why we had four miscarriages. I don't say that it didn't just about kill me, because it did. But I made it to the other side. We made it to the other side.

And life is pretty much, almost perfect.

how "real" are we?

I find myself wondering as I read people's blogs, just how "real" they're being when they write. I read blogs and from what I get off the page, I make assumptions as to who these people really are. I decide who I think I would really get along with, who would make me laugh, who would probably aggravate me in real life (y'all think it too I know you do), who I could hang out with, and who I could possibly be real life bff's with.

And then I wonder, how "real" is the person being portrayed?

I know I'm not always myself on here. I sometimes worry about offending someone or someone deciding I'm boring or just not worth them stopping by to read. So I write as how I think people would want me too.

Then sometimes I hit my "I don't care what people think" mode, and I write about my lack of love for popular music or my tendency to think about random and ridiculous things.

I've decided to stop worrying about what people think. I don't want to look back at this blog years later and go "What the crap was I talking about? I don't think like that?!". I'm not worrying about a lack of comments on a post, or losing a follower.

I'm writing for me.

So in an effort to be more "real", here's a few things you might not know about me... in all it's unpretty glory.

I can't stand Paula Deen. She's like nails on a chalkboard to me. I hate when people hear where I'm from and immediately associate it with her. What about the fact that Sherman didn't burn our town because he thought it was too "beautiful"!?

Not important. But that cooking lady has a restaurant there and that's the best thing ever. Gah. Nails on a chalkboard. She makes me crazy.

I will not spend a lot of money on clothes. I just can't do it. I will straight up rock a dress from Wal-Mart before I'll pay full price anywhere. Now a clearance sell? Bring it.

I do not own a single button down shirt. Just thinking about a starched collar makes me feel like my throat is closing in. I also don't own a pair of khakis. I guess the truth is out. I am not a preppy dresser. I love that look on people. I think it's so classic, but when I go shopping I never buy that style.

I can't stand Lilly Pulitzer. Grown women with pastel animals on their clothes?! Really. I'm the only one who sees a problem there?!

I have a tendency to judge people pretty quickly. Nine times out of ten, I find that my judgment was completely off base. Every time that happens I tell myself that I really shouldn't be so judgmental. And I'm not any more.

Til the next time I am.. Oops.

I think that's enough for one day. I'd rather not scare off everyone in one post.

I think the best thing about blogging is meeting so many different types of people. I adore my blog friends. They've saved me multiple times when I've had a problem or what not and I love them for it. I just wanted to make sure that I was being "real" with you guys as you deserve it. I'm not always super happy go lucky and chill (although I like to pretend I am..)

Sometimes I'm an anxiety ridden basket case. Sometimes I drop the f-bomb multiple times in a hour day. Sometimes I want to kill my husband because I'm a hormonal mess. Sometimes I want to flip the world a bird. And sometimes I just want to curl up with a twelve pack and forget about life for a while.

Those are what make me "real".

kitchen disaster #25,345,896

The other day I cleaned out the fridge at work and realized I had two Tupperware containers of food in there that had been in there for months days. I decided to go ahead and take them home and get rid of them.

Now normally I would have just thrown them away, containers and all, to avoid the smell of what was surely rotten inside.

Or I would have left them on the kitchen counter for Mr. Perfect to deal with later.

Seriously, why did he marry me?!?

But this time, I decided to put my big girl pants on and take care of it myself.

I headed to the garbage disposal, handy scarf wrapped around my face, to take care of some business. I turned the water on, poured the food in the sink, and turned it on.

You would have thought I just shattered a million pieces of glass. All of sudden there's this horrendous noise, water, pieces of broccoli and cheese, and some unidentified substance are flying everywhere. All over the wall and my face. In between gags I managed to turn off the disposal.

I peered down in there, but couldn't see anything and there was NO WAY I was putting my hand in there. Y'all seen the movies, it doesn't work out well. I do not want a nub.

So I gave it another shot. Didn't go well. There is now rotten broccoli and cheese all over me and my kitchen. I was furious.

I finally found a pair of tongs (duh tongs!) and pulled out the culprit. Stupid spoon. I tossed the spoon in the dishwasher and finished my chore. Then I had to clean up the kitchen.

When the Mr. was unloading the dishwasher that night, he came upon said spoon.

"Someone had a disagreement with the disposal huh?" he asked me.

What?!? You can tell that.

So busted.

I really should just stay out of that cursed room.

scenes from a marriage.

The other day for my birthday, the Mister and I picked up 6 Coldstone cupcakes as a snack. After picking them up, we stopped by my friend KP's workplace and let her have one. She picked the cake batter one. Super delicious.

On the way home (with only 5 cupcakes left- only one cake batter), the Mister, whose been doing Atkins, tells me he's going to cheat for my birthday and have a cupcake. I tell him, of course you should!

Then he picks the last cake batter.

I could feel my bottom lip practically hit my feet as I looked at him with wide eyes and said "But I WANT the cake batter!!".

We're sitting at a stop light so the Mister looks at me calm as anything and says "How will I ever handle 2 children?"

Huh?

He explains that when we do have a child it will be his second, as he's already dealing with me as his first.

Nice...

I sucked my lip back in, sat up straight, and pretended that 2 year old whine did not come out of my mouth.

And when we got home, I let him eat the last cake batter cupcake. Pretty big of me huh?!

oops.

I'm going to let you in on a little secret.

I have the tendency to be quite flaky.

Rats. It's not something I aspired to be, it's just something that I deal with. I am ridiculously organized about most things. My bills are paid on time, I never miss work, I can find anything in my house in less than 2 seconds, my closet is sick organized by color, fabric, and sleeve length... But 9 times out of 10 I can't find my keys. Or my cell phone. I forget to lock doors or I flake out on something I was supposed to go do.

I have to write everything down. I live by my day planner. Yes, I still have an old school planner and I will not give it up. I will never make it anywhere if I don't write it down.

Last night I took Lacy running. We went to a neighborhood about 2 miles from our house where it's a bit safer for us to run and not get hit by a car. Important right? I took my key (which is this huge, monstrosity of a thing) and clipped it to Lacy's collar. I do this every time. I don't like having to hold things while I run. So we finish our 3 miles and get back to the car. I bend down to get the key off her collar and it's not there.

Crap.

So we start walking a little bit back to look for it. By this point, I'm basically dragging Lacy to keep her moving. Why don't I just call Mr. Perfect to come get us?

Because I forgot my freaking phone.

Crap.

Mr. Perfect is HUGE on taking your phone with you wherever you go. Or maybe he's just huge on me taking my phone wherever I go since I seem to have the ability to get into "situations".

What to do?!

My poor dog is giving me these huge puppy dog eyes basically begging me to let her lie down. Well she shouldn't have lost my key.

Yep. Blame the dog. Real mature.

So we had to walk the 2 miles home. On one of the busiest, narrowest streets in town. We would sprint down the road when there were no cars coming and then have to jump on to the shoulder when there were cars coming. It. Was. Not. Fun.

I should write a letter to our city about the condition of the side of the roads. I don't know how we didn't get bit by a snake.

Finally, we made it home. What do I see the minute I walk in the kitchen? My phone, on the counter. Mr. Perfect was furious. I was mad he didn't come looking for us.

I have this incredible gift of turning my irrational anger on someone else. Lacy got it the whole way home. Mr. Perfect got it when I got home. See how none of this was my fault?!?

Yea. I know. I really wish things like this weren't the norm for me, but... It should be no surprise that I'm terrified I will completely lose my mind when I get older.

I don't think Lacy will go running with me again for a while. Sorry Lacy. I also think Mr. Perfect will tie my phone on me next time. Poor boy.. I don't know how he deals with me.