Working Mom Wednesday - An Announcment

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Dear Friends,

If you follow me on Twitter or Facebook, you may have already caught on... or maybe not, I've been trying to keep it quiet.  Here is my big news... this Friday is my last day of work.  As of November 1st, I will be a stay at home mommy. 

It finally got to the point that my health issues were really interfering with my job.  My boss has been more than understanding for the past couple of rough years and I completely respect his decision to find someone who can be in the office consistently.  I will be getting unemployment so that will soften the blow of the lost income, but I have to admit I am a little scared.

I don't know if scared is the right word, apprehensive, maybe? Obviously, the lack of income is a main concern. But I think for me, the biggest thing is that, for the first time in my adult life, I will be unemployed. I will have no job.  I've worked since I was 15 and always had a job.  A coffee stand, an ice cream store, the bead store, and the law office. 

I've never had to struggle to find a job.  I got my job at the bead store kind of by default, I was dating the owner's son, after all.  I was in the store one day shopping and his mother asked me if I wanted a job, I said yes and showed up the next day.  I worked there for nearly 5 years.  Even this job pretty much fell into my lap.  My friend worked for my boss (he is her grandfather) she wanted less hours and I wanted a new job.  That was 7 years ago. 

Seven years of my life have been dedicated to this job.  No, it wasn't my favorite.  I've never been a fan of paperwork.  And lets be honest, as a Legal Assistant, paper work is all I do.  But it was still a good job.  I've had great benefits and perks, a lot of flexibility and the most understanding boss in the world.  I've been pretty happy, albeit a bit lonely here.  I am also a social person and I miss the constant person-to-person interactions I had when working retail.  Sure, I work with clients on a daily basis, but the contact is limited and, well, paperwork.  Also, I don't have any co-workers other than my boss.  It's not like I'd spend my day chatting it up, but having someone to relate to is essential in relieving job stress.  There are other people that work in this office (though not for my boss) but they aren't technically "co-workers."

It's a little sad though, thinking about the cases I've worked on and the relationships I have formed with clients.  I know this office back and forth.  The clients, the cases... I'm invested in so many things here.  I personally care about many of these clients and their cases.  There are people I want so much to succeed and have their wrongs be righted.  It's sad to know that I won't see the cases to completion and won't get to share in the joy of our clients.  It wasn't my favorite work, but it was and is rewarding. 
I'm also scared to be a stay at home mom.  I'll be completely honest, this terrifies me more than anything.  I have been known to have a tough time on the weekends, let alone seven days a week.  We are going to try and keep Goose in daycare.  Not only for my sanity, but for hers.  She loves to learn and loves her friends, it would break my heart to separate her from something she loves so much.  But I'm also excited because, other than my maternity leave, I have never been able to stay home with Goose.  I'm already planning outings with other mommy friends and craft projects. 

And craft projects... I will have time to break into my craft room and go crazy! I plan on working on my Etsy store, any extra money I can bring in will help.  Hopefully, I can spend more time on my blog too.  Maybe I can even become a "real" blog with giveaways and sponsors and stuff.  Or maybe I'll just start with my Etsy store and go from there.  Anything I can do from home I'm gonna have to try!

Mostly, though, I am EXCITED! I've never had to struggle for a job.  I've never had to look.  I've never had an opportunity like this.  I have been tossing around several ideas for a while that are looking like more of a possibility than ever.  (I don't want to say anything in case I jinx it! ::knockonwood::)  I'm not worried about not finding anything.  I'm not planning on looking for a while (provided we can make it work financially) because I need to focus on my health right now and get my shizz figured out.  I need to get healthy before I can responsibly and professionally look for a job. 

I'm hoping that by the closing of this door, another will open.  It usually does.  And I hope that it will be better.  I can only have faith that this is the path I am meant to take.  This has been an incredibly tumultuous time in my life and I have to trust and have faith that its where I am meant to be.  It's not up for me to question just to act.

This may be my last Working Mom Wednesday post for a while. I've had a wonderful time following Julia's meme and will continue to visit those that link up to it!

The Katy Perry Effect

If you have been on the Internet or turned on a TV in the past few days, you have heard about Katy Perry and Elmo's play date on Sesame Street.  And you have heard about the controversy regarding her ample bosom.

It's cute.  It's cheeky. 

It's over the top.

It's exactly what you would expect from Katy.

My love of both Katy Perry and Sesame Street is known, I've blogged about them both before. I've liked her ever since she "kissed a girl" and Goose watches Elmo every morning.  So, my stance on this may be surprising to you.  I think it is  completely inappropriate.

And here is why...

I'm a pretty laid back mom.  I let Goose watch The Simpsons.  We sing Lady Gaga together in the car.  I watch trashy TV around her.  I *try* my hardest not to swear.  I wear reveling clothing from time to time. Goose has seen me in my underwear (and, gasp, nekkid).  She is not a sheltered child by any means.

If this were on Nickelodeon or the Disney Channel, I don't think I would have even batted an eyelash. 

But it wasn't.

It was on PBS.

It was on Sesame Street.

As a parent, I feel its my right to pick and choose what my daughter is exposed to and when.  When I turn on certain channels, I know what to expect.  I know the tone of the show and the behavior and language she will see.  And when I turn on PBS, I expect a certain level of programming.

I admit, I hold them to a higher standard.

Sesame Street has been on the air for over 40 years and boasts an impressive list of celebrity guest stars over the years.  They have featured musicians, actors, athletes and political figures alike.  Some of them  have controversial personal lives, but their segments for the show have always been appropriate for toddlers and preschoolers who are unaware of the media persona of each person.  In all actuality, many kids probably don't even know who the adult guest stars are. 

Here Sesame Street made a conscious decision to cover Perry's chest.  With a sheer flesh colored panel.  My husband thinks I am over reacting.  He says, and I don't disagree, that its not any worse than a figure skating costume.  That our daughter would look at her and think that she is nothing more than a pretty girl in a pretty yellow dress.  This is all true.  But there isn't any reason they couldn't have chosen a more conservative outfit. 

There is a time and a place for everything and the place for cleavage bearing tops is NOT Sesame Street.

I hope that Sesame Street invites Perry back to film another segment.  She is charming and funny and her chemistry with Elmo is adorable.  A higher neckline would in no way diminish her sexy appeal.  It's who she is, you can't hide it.  Especially given the subject matter of the piece and Perry's penchant for creative attire. 

In the future, I hope that PBS and Sesame Street is more aware of the decisions they are making.  I hope they know what parents have come to expect from them.  Because I know, to me, I turn to PBS knowing the programming will be entertaining, educational and age appropriate.

Things That People Without Kids Get To Do

This weekend we found ourselves suddenly and unexpectedly without child.

My mother in law was going to visit family and she wanted a traveling companion.

"SHE'S ALL YOURS!" We both said gladly.

Goose loves her cousin on the "other side of the mountains."

Her and Aubrey are "BEST FRIENDS."

And Friday afternoon, off they went to Kennewick.

We got off work at 5, got home at 5:15 and sat.

We stared at each other.

We walked in circles.

We watched a TV show that we can't watch when Goose is home.

South Park, if you were wondering.

Then we cleaned the kitchen. Together.

And made dinner.

Together.

Hawaiian meatball subs. From scratch. Yumm!

And we didn't eat 'till after 8!

meatballs, teriyaki BBQ sauce, pineapple, grilled onions and Swiss cheese.

We called some friends over and then walked to the bar and played some pool.

It was pretty cool.

Hubs plays pool every week or so at this tavern that's a block away from our house.

Normally, I stay home, because, ya know, someone has to stay with the kid.

But this time I GOT TO GO!

I'm not any good at pool, but its fun to play.

We went to bed at 3 am and didn't get up 'till 10.

When we got up I asked Hubs, "What do people without kids watch on the weekends?"

I flipped through the channels and almost wished Goose was home so I could have an excuse to watch cartoons.  Don't judge me.

And then I cleaned. We cleaned.

Scrubbed the kitchen.

Scrubbed the toilet.

Swept. Mopped. Vacuumed.

And it actually stayed that way!

I even cleaned Goose's room! I was mighty proud of myself.

I love a clean house. I would just love for someone else to clean it.

But I was in a mood and wasn't about to quit.

Still didn't have the will to fight the laundry monster though.

I washed it all... its just on the couch, waiting to be folded.

We didn't make breakfast and had an early lunch so around 4 pm we decided to go get food.

Greasy burgers from the best place in town.

With extra goop!

We took our dinner back home and finished eating and it was only 5 pm.  We had a whole night ahead of us and no plans what-so-ever.

A movie?

Why not?

I searched movie times on my phone (and the Flixster app for Blackberry is AWESOME, btw!)

and we decided to go see The Town directed by Ben Affleck.]

We decided we were bored at 5 pm.

By 6, we had decided on a movie.

And we were in our seats at 7:05 pm.

Just like that. No babysitter. No messing around.

I've never been Ben Affleck's biggest fan.

I love Mallrats and Dogma, but he always played a douche and that's kinda how I saw him.

But ladies, let me tell you, that man has gotten hotter with age.

And the whole "devoted dad, husband, family man" image doesn't hurt.

It reminded me alot like "Departed" with a similar style to "The Shawshank Redemption."

We were both pleased with our choice.

We came home and I made (and destroyed a cake.)

It's a good thing taste buds don't have eyes, cuz it tastes GREAT!

It was 10:30 pm or so, and we were bored.

And wired from cake.

And tipsy from wine.

So, hubs decided we should get some beer.

We collected all the change in the house (cuz we are cool like that) and decided to walk to the gas station down the road.

It was POURING, I mean, just DUMPING rain.

My feet were soaked before we left the driveway.

My coat, completely soaked after a block.

On the way home I ditched my coat and walked in the rain.

It wasn't even that cold.

It's the Water

Then we got home. Drank some beer. Watched TV.

We did "those things" that people do when they love each other, very much.

Then we slept in.

Late.

Hubs made me breakfast in bed but I was hungover.

I don't normally drink enough to be hungover.

I was so glad that my singing Goose wasn't home.

She is constantly singing and talking and chirping and squeaking.

Moving, dancing, running.

She is exhausting. And headache inducing, without the help of a hangover.

Then we laid on the couch and watched football.

All day.

Then we made dinner, Goose came home, and we all went to bed early.

I sure did miss that girl but I have to say...

It was awesome to act like ADULTS instead of PARENTS!

A Baby Story

Working Mom Wednesday - Prompt #1

Birth Story!

Lets just make this the whole shebang and go for a WHOLE pregnancy story. I found out I was pregnant in July, 2005. It was completely unexpected. Steve and I had been together for six year already. We had always planned on getting married and having a family. Just… in a while. I remember taking two pregnancy tests, even though I already knew. I wasn’t late (yet) but I knew. I just felt pregnant. I don’t know how to describe it. Steve came home from work, knowing I had taken the test, and as soon as I told him, I broke down into tears. I didn’t think we could do it. We weren’t married. We weren’t ready!!!

A few weeks later I started to get sick. And not just morning sickness sick. This was a terrible, all consuming awful sickness. I couldn’t escape it. The doctors don’t normally see pregnant women until about the 10th week, but I had already been in the ER twice (maybe 3 times) at that point. When I finally did go in for my first exam, I was given Zofran. It worked miracles but was expensive (like $1200+ for a month supply, with insurance!) so we tried something else. In fact, we tried everything else. Too many medications to count, over the counter, prescribed, naturopathic… I was due April 4th, 2006.

I was in and out of the ER, 8 times total, for dehydration, hyperemisis gravidarum(HG). I was admitted twice, once for three days. I had been poked and rehydrated more times than I could count. Once, when trying to take my blood, the nurse had such a hard time getting enough from me. I was so dehydrated that my blood was thick and gel like.

I was always hungry and could never eat. The second food would hit my stomach, it would start to turn. I lived on peanut butter sandwiches, chicken noodle soup and (as required by my doctor) one banana a day. I weighed 95lbs by the end of my first trimester.

My doctors wanted me to get on home health since it would be the cheapest way to provide care to me but it required a PICC line in my arm and I refused since we had planned our wedding for December. I think my wedding day was one of the few days I wasn’t sick. But a week after the wedding, I was on home health, getting weekly visits from my nurse. IV bags and IV meds and I almost fainted the first time she inserted the PICC line. I still have a scar on my arm from where the line went in.

I don’t remember much from my pregnancy but I remember when I took my glucose test. It was the worst experience of my pregnancy. Like I said, I was sick. Nothing stayed down. Nothing. The nurses knew this, but we all know how the glucose test goes. You have to drink this nasty syrup with the taste of orange soda. I struggled to keep it from coming straight back up and then struggled the next hour to keep it down. And I really mean struggle. Have you ever had a fight with your body? I have, and I lost. But I kept it down long enough for the nurses to take my blood. I was queasy, I was nauseous, I was so happy to be done. But the nurse must have noticed my distressed state because she asked me if I was okay. She told me I would have to sit until I felt better. I told her I had to puke and she told me they couldn’t let me leave. So I forced myself to seem better. All the while, the nasty orange syrup was churning in my gut. Finally, she let me leave. I sprinted my pregnant ass to the nearest bathroom and hurled up every last trace of orange. I still can’t drink orange pop. BLECH!

The rest of my pregnancy went “smoothly” and by smoothly I mean no other problems other than HG. Once I got to about week 30, I was in Labor & Delivery at least once a week for preterm labor. The dehydration was making me have frequent and painful contractions. I was told to drink 64oz twice a day. I couldn’t even keep down a cup. That was until about week 36, when babies are no longer considered preemie. They would no longer admit me to be rehydrated. The contractions got worse and I was miserable. My doctor agreed to induce me around the end of March, provided I passed an amnio confirming the babies development.

We went into L&D for the amnio on the 21st of March and were told that it was full. I was devastated. I mean, really really crushed. Finally my end was in sight but now… just a dark tunnel. I know its melodramatic, since it really was 2 more weeks. But honestly, two more weeks was more than I could take. And apparently, it was more than my body could take as well.

It was 3am on the 22nd, I woke with contractions that were different than the Braxton Hicks I had felt before. Sharper, wrapping all the way around my back. I got out of bed and sat in front of the furnace, wrapped in my favorite quilt. Molly (my sweet old dog) rested her head on my big belly. She knew what was going on even if I didn’t.

The contractions didn’t really slow, I think they were at about 8 minutes apart so I called the doctor around 7 or 8 am. I had my weekly OB appointment later that afternoon, so L&D told me that unless my contractions became more frequent, to just go to my appointment later that day. Well, the contractions did slow considerably and I went to my doctor that afternoon. She examined me and determined I would probably give birth within the next week, but likely the next 48 hours.

So, we went home to wait it out. I remember the day lasting forever. And around dinnertime, the contractions came back full force. It was 9:20 in the evening. It was a Wednesday, right in the middle of LOST. It was the episode where Sun found out she was pregnant, but I missed that part. I watched it on DVR later.

Steve and I packed up and went to the hospital. We waited in admittance. The woman who helped us was a wonderful, grandmotherly Hispanic woman and so so sweet. She asked us the babies gender, girl. She asked the name, we told her our list. Olivia, Isobel, Sophia, and Gabriella. Then, she went on to tell us about how much she loved the name “Gabriella Elana,” (We loved Elana, but already knew a baby by that name) it was the name she picked out for her first daughter. Unfortunately, when she actually had a daughter, she went with a completely different name. She vowed to name her next daughter Gabriella but never had another. I remember looking at my husband at that moment. Could it be? Gabriella?

We were admitted and went to triage in L&D. They checked me and I was, in deed, in active labor. We didn’t have to wait long for a room. I got all hooked up to the machines and IV’s and then they gave me something to “take the edge off” whatever that means. It was probably 10:30 or so when the whole gang showed up. My mom, dad and mother in law. Really, I only wanted the moms there. I didn’t really want my dad to see me in that state, but I didn’t have the heart, or the energy, to tell him to leave.

At one point in the night, they had to break my water. A resident doctor was given the task and her inexperience showed as things proceeded to get her very wet and messy. The room erupted in laughter and she tried to hide her embarrassment. Then, the doctor checked my progress and told me I was coming along and that if I felt like pushing I could, or I could sleep. I was dizzy and nauseous, so I went to sleep.

I remember puking but they wouldn’t give me anything this time. It was almost over. At some point I got an epidural. Then at 8:30 am on the 23rd, the nurse woke me up and told me it was time. I couldn’t feel anything below my waist. The baby wasn’t quite in the right position so they had me get onto all fours. I remember how astounded the nurses were that I was actually able to get up on my knees, given my partially paralyzed state. But I was determined. I’ve never been so determined in my life. I wanted that baby OUT!

I pushed, three times. It took 13 minutes and at 8:43 am, my baby girl was laying on my chest. Steve and I looked at her and then at each other… Gabriella. Yes, she is. My Gabby Goose.

After that, I don’t remember much. Just being in a blissful, exhausted, confused state. In a quick moment, our entire lives changed. We became a family that day.

I often think about having more kids. Very often in fact. But I don’t think pregnancy is for me. I don’t think I can do it again. I know, its only 9 months, and it was completely and totally worth it and I would never change a thing but… I can’t do it again. For my families sake. I know every pregnancy is different, but I’ve done my research on HG (learn more!) and I know things are stacked against me.
So, our family will stay a family of three. At least for now, anyway. Steven and I have discussed the possibility of adoption or foster parenting but until we own a home, its all up in the air. I’m just very happy with where our family is right now. We are in a happy place. The three of us are so close. I can’t be disappointed. We truly are blessed to have a daughter as wonderful as Goose.

"Simple" Goals

I think I began blogging because I like to have a captive audience.  To have people listen to me.  I like ot show off.  When I first started blogging, I didn't know much about it, I still don't.  I would get lost for hours inside the pages of people's lives.  Their ideas, their projects, their children.  I wanted to include them in my life too.  And I wanted to allow those who know me to see a side of me that they normally don't.  It started with crafts, sharing my ideas, my projects and my favorite things.  I chose to name it "Jill of All Trades" because I have a hard time settling into one thing.  I love to experiment and try new things.  I'm good at them, but not usually the best. But I have fun so its okay.

My crafting passion started out as a child with beads.  I remeber going to Shipwreck with my mother and buy bags and bags of wooden beads.  I remember we put then in an old Lego briefcase and we had them for years.  I love to make my own jewelry, earrings especially.  I love to look at jewelry in stores and figure out how to make it myself.  I love to take old things and make them new. 

The more I blogged, the more different blogs I discovered.  Scrapbooking blogs, fashion blogs, indie blogs, style blogs... I didn't want to be just one blog.  I'm interested in more than one thing.  There are so many different facets of my personality I want to talk about. And I seriously lack focus!

I would love so much to become a "professional" blog.  Have more giveaways and sponsors... link parties and guest bloggers but I just don't have the time.  I'm already a full time worker, wife and mother and a part time crafter (full time crazy person)... blogging is supposed to be just for fun. Not a job.

But I like that I have gotten to the point where I have some regular(ish) features.  Mondays are my "free" day, usually updates and pictures from the weekend.  Tuesdays are my craft day, I share links and project ideas,  It's also the day I share my own projects.  Wednesday is "Working Mom Wednesday." I love Julia's meme and try to participate every week.  She's a friend and I love to give her my support. On Thursday I like to talk about trends, in clothing and crafts to whatever suits my fancy.  Thursdays are also the day I like to feature product reviews.  Its just stuff I like that I think you should know about.  Then comes Fashion Friday.  I'm trying to limit my wardrobe posts (I'm gonna get back into this!) to Fridays.  In the future, I hope to also feature some of my favorite fashion bloggers too.  And that leaves the weekend.  I don't usually post on the weekend.  Besides the fact that I don't currently have a home computer, weekends are strictly family time.  Two days a week is hardly enough time to spend with my husband and daughter.  I don't want to waste it on blogging.

Maybe someday I will have more time to spend blogging.  Maybe I can become a full time blogger and crafter but for now I think I am doing all right.  I like the lack of pressure.  I don't feel guilty when I don't blog or if I'm not "on schedule." I don't have to worry about funding or giveaways or sponsors.

All that said, I still want to be a better blogger.  A better friend.  To actually participate in the blogs I love so much.

And this has all been leading up to this...

ELSIE'S 4 SIMPLE GOALS

 

1. 
   
   Write a blog mission statement. Hey look, already done!
2. 
   
   Comment on at least 1 blog per day. Linking this to Elsie's blog. Another goal complete.
3. 
   
   Cut the junk! Junk food, candy, pop, alcohol.  It all needs to go.  I need to make better choices. An apple instead of a candy bar. A glass of water instead of pop.
4. 
   
   Quit being lazy. I need to get off my ass and do something. I'm not just talking working out, that too.  I'm talking about the hours I spend on the couch watching TV after I get home from work.  I need to just get up and go for a walk, work on a project or *gasp* clean. 

I think those are pretty simple, right? The first two are already done.  But okay, the last two are kind of all encompassing.  We're talking a total lifestyle change here people.  In all fairness (or laziness?) maybe those aren't simple enough.  Maybe they should be even simpler?

KELSY'S 4 EVEN MORE SIMPLE GOALS

1. 
   
   Read a book. A real, paper book. Cover to cover.
2. 
   
   Write a poem. On paper. With a pen.
3. 
   
   Make art for my walls. Put it in a frame.
4. 
   
   Make a robot. From recycled boxes. Cuz I promised Goose.

Now those look like things I can do!

Um...

I have a blog written out.
But I don't have time to type it.
Yes.
I wrote a post by hand. In a notebook. With a pen.
I was away from a computer with some time on my hands.
So I wrote.
And it actually felt really good.
When was the last time you took pen to paper and wrote?

Anyway, I have a post and will get to it.

Eventually.

How To Be Alone

You may have seen this video making the rounds in the blog-o-sphere.
It's so very moving and inspirational.

My favorite quote:
"If you're happy in your head then solitude is blessed and alone is okay."

Enjoy!

Weighing In

It’s easy to talk about confidence and positive body image when you know you look good. But what if thats no longer the case?

The last few months have been good to me. I am feeling better than ever. Happier than I’ve been in ages. Comfortable. Healthy. And with that comes the weight. For me, at least since having Goose, Happy = Fat.  Okay, not fat. I don’t want to use the “F” word. But really, I have spent the majority of my life as a size 2 or 0 (yes, 0 is a size). It never took any effort. Getting back to my pre-baby weight wasn’t a problem. I was back into my skinnies in a couple months. Sure things didn’t look the same, hips fuller, tummy softer, breast rounder… but I was still tiny. I loved my collar bones.

Since the end of June, however, I have gained about 20 pounds. I carry it well, I think. For the first time ever, I am an hourglass. I have curves and cleavage… and *gasp* cottage cheese thighs. A flabby belly. Honestly, though… I kinda like it. I feel more womanly, more grown up, less worried. But I’m not satisfied or happy about it. I’ve been lazy, eating all wrong, not exercising. Its not good at all. This body I have now is not my normal body.

If I had it my way, I would just get rock hard abs without losing my boobs and butt. Unfortunately, mother nature doesn’t work that way. I’ve been reluctant to work out for that very reason. I like my boobs (a B cup!!!) and my big round butt. I like my silhouette in dresses and skirts, womanly and feminine.

I’ve been wearing mostly skirts and dresses the last few months. Mostly because nothing else fits. Dresses are forgiving. Loose in the hips and now I can finally fill out the tops. No one has even noticed the weight I’ve put on. I’ve been dressing a lot nicer. My jeans and scrubby clothes don’t fit. And now, if I do put on some pants, my legs feel all weird and constricted.

I don’t know that I will be getting in a bikini any time soon. But summer is almost over anyway. I know I need to work out. I know I am not living a health life style. But I like what I see in the mirror. I am a size 8 and have never been happier.

So what to do?

Lazy and happy and curvaceous?

Active and happy and slender?

Healthy is the goal.

Rock Star

source

As early as I can remember, I wanted to be a rock star.

Not just a rock star. I wanted to be Jem.

The pink hair, the magic star earrings, the wild make up.

I wanted to be just like her.

But really, I just wanted attention.

I couldn't sing. I couldn't dance.

But I loved to talk.

Ham it up.

Always the boss.

The center of attention.

For several years, I was Jem for Halloween.

I remember in Kindergarten, my teacher let me MC for the "Christmas" concert.

I was always in choir.

But as I got older, the tomboy side of me won out.

I played sports and excelled at fastpitch, playing from 7 until 18.

I always wanted to be in plays, drama, but never had the time.

So choir was it.

I loved to sing. I still love to sing.

I don't care anymore if I am any good at it.

Goose likes it when I sing.

Some of my best memories from school come from choir.

Girls choir. Symphonic Choir (mixed). And Jazz Choir.

Jazz Choir was a 0 hour class, audition only.

I was proud to be a part of "JC."

And finally, a break in my fastpitch schedule Senior year.

I signed up for my first (and only) play.

"Good News."

I even had a speaking part.

It was a musical and I still can't dance.

But it was the most fun I ever had.

I'm still a show off.

I still like to be the center of attention.

And, I think, that is why I blog.

For the attention.

To have a captive audience to listen to my crazy so my husband doesn't have to.

And to show off a bit.

I would never do it in person.

But on MY blog I can just yell

LOOK AT ME!

LOOK WHAT I CAN DO!!

LOOK!

LOOK!

LOOK!

LOOK AT ME!!!

I think I still want to be a rock star when I grow up.

Yup.

I also wanted to be the president.

Again for the attention.

And

Cuz I would then be the boss of everyone!

Working Mom Wednesday!!!

Its Not So Bad Afterall

I feel so lucky for everything in my life right now.

And for the first time in a really long time

I feel like I am truly and genuinely

HAPPY.

*source*

Of course, let me say that right now we are in a tougher spot financially than we have ever been.  With the move and the fire and the cost to "rebuild" our lives; its been really really tough.  We are struggling.

But I'm not worried.  Because I am confident we are doing exactly what we are supposed to be doing.  My health is improving, I think its been over a month since I had a major panic attack WHOO HOO! New meds, new environment, new outlook on life.

I feel good.

I know this rough patch is temporary. We are saving so much money! Living on this side of town, Steve is able to bike and ride the bus to work. We cut our gas bill in half.  No more furnace. Water, sewer, and garbage included. A smaller yard. Family activities within walking distance. It just all feels better.  And with no computer, that means no paying for Internet, X-box live and Netflix. Although, I really miss Netflix!!!

Am I stressed? Yup.

Am I sad? Sometimes more, sometimes less.

As I unpack what we did get out, I feel overcome by happiness.  Each box contains something I thought was lost forever. In each box a little miracle.  But as the boxes dwindle, I am faced with the realization that there is so much we still do not have.  Each box is a reminder of what was destroyed.  As the number of boxes grow smaller, so do the little miracles.  The treasures. 

This weekend I found a box of Goose's coats that I thought were all left at the old house. And as I unpacked her boxes, I remembered her coat rack was still mounted to the wall outside her bedroom, with coats and pictures still on it.

I went through my scrapbooks and cried.

I remembered all of the large professional portraits we never had framed. They were still "safely" in their envelopes in my old craft room.  Saw remnants of Molly on nearly every page... a solitary hair clinging between the pages.  I didn't wipe them away. 

Hubs told me he felt the same way about the smell of our couch.

Musty old dog. Yum.

Okay, not really, but still Molly.

I had her first and last collar saved in my bedroom.

But they weren't "saved"

It kills me to think she is still at that old house, all alone.

But I have her leash. And some chew toys.

And a few stray hairs.

And a stinky couch..

It's quite a contradicting life I am living right now.

So happy and peaceful and yet so sad and stressful at the same time.

It's somewhat of a balancing act, but this time I'm not afraid to fall.

I'm not scared to be sad.

The stressful feeling isn't overwhelming.

I feel like I am dealing, transitioning, re-establishing who I really want to be.

Who I really AM.

I am setting some big goals.

And for the first time (in a really long time)

I feel like I'm going to complete them.

And not just that...

I am going to blow every one out of the water.

Little Miracles (Lost and Found)

Steve and I were finally able to get into the old house this weekend.

Seeing the devastation first hand was pretty overwhelming.

My craft room was in the living room - it used to be the attic.

Ribbons and papers, singed and melted and burned, littered the floor.

But we went into the bedrooms and dug around in the soot and ash.

There were no lights so Hubs was using a lighter and I had my cell phone.

In Goose's room, in her closet, Steve found her time capsule.

I was convinced it was in storage upstairs.

He found it.

The box was completely black, and some of the contents were melted.

But the letters, the cards, the irreplacable keepsakes, they were all okay.

It was in a cardboard box I covered in contact paper.

If not for the contact paper, I'm sure it would have burned.

Next,

I found Goose's baby china.  The bag was falling apart. The box they were packed in was chared. But the china, still wrapped in untouched white tissue paper, was safe. 

::happydance::

Then we went into our bedroom.

Man, that was hard. 

But my nightstand, though badly burned, was still standing.

Hope.

Steve kicked in the drawers and I found two small jewlry boxes, both blackened.

But the jewelry inside?

My pearl earrings from my dad, my grandma's ring, the first ring Hubs ever gave me, and one half of the second pair of diamond earrings from Hubs... (I'm not allowed to have any more diamond earrings.  I lose them) all untouched.

Even my jewlry box on top of my nightstand was still standing, though not intact.

I picked up the disintigrating pile that was my jewelry box and took it out side.

I was surprised that I actually found many things untouched.

The coral and diamond ring that my Great-grandmother from Japan gave me when we visited my senior year of high school.  The coral was blackened, but it cleaned up well.

For my first Mother's day, my mother in law made an imprint of Goose's hand the day she was born and cast it in silver. 

They were safe.

And in the bathroom, in the ashes, I even found a couple of charms from Goose's charm bracelet.  My mom bought her a bracelet and has been buying her charms for it.  I didn't find them all, but considering how terrible the bathroom looked, I am thankful to find what I did. 

It's so amazing to me, that many of the possessions we were so upset about losing were found, and safe, undamaged no less. 

I continue to feel so blessed and lucky.

I thank everyone who has reached out to help us.

I don't think there are enough words to say how much.

God has smiled on us and he is giving us some bright spots to get through this hard time.

So very many thanks.

I don't care about the things I lost, I care about the things I have.

ETA - Also, while unpacking, I found the Rad Jacket and my angel collection.

I'm finding lots of other random, less important stuff as I unpack.

Once we are done unpacking, I'm sure I will be hit by the full magnitude of what was lost.

But for now, it's time to take it day by day and just be thankful for every breath we take.

In Memoriam

*source*

Casualties of the Fire

Wedding china. Set of silver. Kitchen appliances. Dining table/chairs. Pots and pans. Rice cooker. Two computers. 5 years worth of digital photos. Music. So. Much. Music. Birth certificates. Social security cards. Big screen TV. Miscellaneous serving platters/kitchen items. Pyrex casserole dishes.  Antique hutch. Clothes. Towels. Goose's shoes. Goose's collectors dishes from Tiffany's that were a gift when she was born. Signed Ashley Force Barbie. HP printer. Nail polish. 6 bottles of collectible Marilyn Merlot wine. Ephemera and other random craft stuff. Vintage button collection. All of my ribbon. Vintage sewing basket with needles, thread, scissors and vintage notions. Scrapbook paper. Sewing machine. Snow board. Hub's collectible soccer cleats. Most of his pants. Jackets. 10 years worth of holiday decorations. High school yearbooks. Photo albums from middle school and before. The necklace I was given by Goose for my first Christmas as a mommy. My first mother's day gift. The pearl and diamond earrings my dad gave me for HS graduation. A couch. King size sleep number bed. Crib/toddler bed. Luggage/suitcases. Bathing suits. The first scrapbook I ever made, for Steve, Baby stuff I was saving. Iron & ironing board. All my Stickles. Glimmer mist. Paper punches (not sure which ones...) Paint and brushes. Goose's art supplies. Her art table. Vintage costume jewelry. Make-up. Everything in the medicine cabinet. Vacuum cleaner. Jewelry box. Goose's charm bracelet from Grandma and charms. Goose's first Pooh Bear "piggy" bank. Molly's first and last dog collar.  Marital aids. The Rad Jacket. Matching TV and entertainment stand. Computer desk. Camera charger. USB and CD backups. Book shelves. Art work, purchased and created. Magnets and fridge artwork. Other "stuff." Corduroy pencil skirt. Jean pencil skirt. Chocolate brown scarf. Goose's socks. Marilyn Monroe train case. Needle felting supplies. Beads and beading supplies. Commemorative cake knife from our wedding. Professional portraits. Time capsule, to be opened on Goose's 16th birthday. Couch. Art notebook.

(I'm sure this list will continue to grow. Every time I stop and think, I can add more and more to the list. And I'm still unpacking what we did move, so I'm still not 100% on what we still have.)

Thank God it was all just STUFF.

No, I'm not materialistic, I'm mourning.

I know it was all just stuff and I am so grateful for everything we have.

But, yeah... I am sad about the things we lost.

So many meaningful and important things gone.

I have my memories.
I have my scrapbooks.

I have my family.

I have everything important.

Lucky

I can't stop feeling so lucky and blessed by this whole situation.

Maybe it sounds strange.

*source*

If you are a regular reader, you know I have been trying to find my faith, struggling with the meaning of it all. Looking for answers. I don't know what I was expecting to find, but I wasn't finding it. At least, I didn't think I was.

This might sound weird, but I feel lucky that this fire happened to us. It could happen any time, to anyone and it happened to us Monday morning.  And I am so thankful it wasn't someone else.  I guess, if your house is going to go up in flames, it really couldn't have happened at a better time.  Yes, there were valubles lost, but nothing that can't be replaced.  I'm sad about the computers and the photos, but I'm thankful I blog. Because I have so many pics saved on my blog and on Photobucket. 

It could happen to anyone and it didn't, it happened to us.  We weren't there. Our important possessions were out of the house. We made it out with a lot more than just the clothes on our backs. And if the worst of the situation is that we lost everything in the kitchen and some electronics, I say that's pretty good. 

We also have such an amazing support system around us.  Steve's parents, my parents, friends have all stepped up to give us a hand in any way possible.  We have a roof over our heads. 

I keep thinking about the events leading up to us moving out and I know things were meant to be. 

We weren't supposed to be there.

In the begining of April I first saw our new house.  I took a picture on my cell phone, told Steve I wanted to move and called the landlord the next day. A few days later, we were looking at the place and putting down a deposit.  When we signed the lease, the landlord told us she had recieved so many calls on the property.  They had even shown it to one other family who desperately wanted it, but we got there first.  And it was ours. 

We got the keys on May 15th and were supposed to be out of our old place on the 31st.  We spent nearly all of last weekend packing and moving, Goose stayed with Grandma.  Saturday night was the first time we had slept at the new house.  Sunday, Hubs and I debated whether or not we should sleep at the old house or new house.  Our beds were in the old house, but most of our stuff was in the new house. 

We decided to sleep on couches.

We stopped at the old house Sunday night for a few minutes. Grabbed Goose's books, bathroom stuff for us, phone chargers.  Just the necessary stuff for the next day.  Both Steve and I made a sweep of the house and made sure everthing was turned off and unplugged.  Then, we left. For the last time. We were there not even 15 minutes. 

And now, it all seems so clear.  What I was doing wrong, in my life and my expectations.  I know that God was talking to me and I just didn't know what to listen for.  Except, that it's very easy to see now that I was listening and taking his direction.

We weren't supposed to be there.

And because I followed my gut. 

Because I wanted the new house.

We weren't there.

We also get a chance to start over. Start fresh. Re-evaluate, re-assess, and re-prioritize. Decisions we didn't want to make were made for us in that instant and we are forced to start over.  I feel kind of like the Phoenix (Marvel geek reference) rising from the flames.  Not many people get to start over like this. It's a little liberating, I must say.  The clutter of our former selves is gone, with room to start fresh.

I no longer question the road I need to take.

I see it now.

Clearly.

It seems so simple, so easy.

But I wasn't ready before.

And now, I am.