Muddling & Mishaps - Reality Blogging

For those of you who don't know at this point (and I can't imagine there are a whole lot of people out there who haven't heard) - the hubby and I are expecting Munchkin #2!  We are beyond thrilled, as we would be with any pregnancy.  This particular pregnancy, though, has a bit more of a story behind it than the average pregnancy.  I've had a few people suggest that I write about it, so, I thought it might be a good way to dust off the keyboard and get back into blogging. A warning, though:  some of the content in this story may be a bit "much" for you gentlemen out there.  Nothing overly graphic, but if you have trouble with the words "ovaries" or "uterus," go check out my previous blogs (and be sure to check back for new ones, too).   So.  Let's start at the very beginning... (For those of you who finished up that line with "A very good place to start" - you make my heart smile.) Right around Munchkin #1's first

The hubbs and I are huge fans of the Renaissance Festival here in Michigan.  Not to the point where we dress up or start speaking in foreign-ish tongues, but we enjoy making a date-day out of it once a year.  It's our time to go out, buy a few trinkets that we really don't need in any capacity, listen to dirty jokes from roasted almond vendors, and treat ourselves to lunch at The Laundry in Fenton afterwards.  One of the things that we really enjoy, though, is seeing the same astrologist each year for a star chart/psychic reading.  Mind you, we don't put any stock into it at all.  It's usually just a weird form of affirmation and some curious things to ponder while we walk through the rest of the festival, trying to find a gentleman selling pickles that won't harass us.  The readings are typically pretty positive and light-hearted.  Last year, we had her quickly look up the star chart for our daughter before she thoroughly read ours.  She glanced at it and start

I had a great conversation with a friend the other day about all the different ways we procrastinate before diving into housework (ironic, eh?).  I wistfully thought aloud about how amazing it would be to have someone come in and take care of my Arch-Nemesis of Daily Tasks:  the dishes.  "Well," she said, "I've worked for people before who have someone come in and clean once a week...but they clean up beforehand." "...Wait, what?!"  "Yeah!  They would ask me on those days to empty and load the dishwasher and clean off the counters, otherwise she wouldn't fully clean the kitchen." I am still reeling over this tidbit of information.  What the hell is the point of paying someone to clean when you are going to clean so they will have a clean enough area to perform their daily or weekly cleaning?!  I can only imagine the contract.  "I hereby authorize Mary Poppins to come in and sing a song, snap her fingers, and give off the app

Has it really been that long since I last blogged?!  I mean, truthfully, I seem to remember writing a whole lot more over the past month.  I'd say that it must have been a dream, but I would have to sleep in order to dream about anything.  There hasn't been a whole lot of that over the past month, either.  I lovingly describe my daughter as a crawling-and-cruising petri dish.  I love my child to pieces, but let's be real here - she's kind of disgusting.  The amount of snot and saliva that pours out of her face on a daily basis isn't just gross - it's downright impressive.  It doesn't help that she goes to daycare full-time, where she is surrounded by other crawling-and-cruising-and-dripping-and-oozing petri dishes from the age of three months to the brink of toddlerhood.  Needless to say, my home has had a bubonic cloud surrounding it throughout the past thirty days.  Because those baby germs are freaking potent .  She coughed twice:  my husband came d

I love awkward moments.  I feel that there is nothing more human than foot-in-mouth statements, terrible-timing conversations, and pregnant pauses that make the heat rise up in your cheeks and at the top of your ears.  We've all experienced these moments where we want to just crawl up in a ball and die...or, in my case, giggle uncontrollably.  I can't even begin to tell you how many times I've come home and said to the husband "Oh man - you should've been there", as if I were talking about a recent promotion or a powerful homily, when really I'm talking about an instance that would make any person question every choice that they made leading up to that moment in time.  But, my avid readers, the unthinkable has happened.  I have finally found an awkward moment that made me flee.  That made me run into my car, slam the door shut, bury my face into my hands, and mutter "Oh God, please don't let this ever, EVER happen again."  My hubby and I

This past year was a persistent test on my limits:  The third trimester of pregnancy; childbirth; colicky baby; stay-at-home mama for five months; transition to working mama; hubby at home to help me out; hubby working on base (and away from home) for a week or two at a time - this list could be endless.  I have never known another point in my life where there was so much change in such a short period of time, and there were many moments where I had to quit thinking, pick up the extra coffee, and sprint the last half of the"marathon".  I can't remember a year so complex and overwhelming. I know there's probably a negative connotation to that, but I don't necessarily mean it that way. Was it stressful and taxing?  Absolutely.  In fact, I'm pretty sure that these bags under my eyes are a permanent thing now, and I may or may not have already plucked a gray hair from my scalp.    But everything about this year was inexplicably beautiful.   I learned ho