tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2252178326236542182024-03-13T22:48:54.922-05:00Carrie-on BaggageWelcome to my baggage, I can't afford to check it, so we'll have to carry it on.Carriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13202272621543605535noreply@blogger.comBlogger492125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225217832623654218.post-83892189907328214422014-10-18T16:11:00.001-05:002014-10-18T16:11:13.475-05:00aJuxt Media Group is still waiting for you to join Twitter...<!-- 100% body table, class outerinvite --> <table class="outerinvite" width="100%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0"> <tbody> <tr> <td bgcolor="#eeeeee"> <!-- Frame --> <table class="frame" width="542" border="0" align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"> <tbody> <tr> <td style="font-size: 1px;" class="top-spacer" height="40" valign="top"><img width="1" height="1" style="display: block;margin:0px;padding:0px;display:block;" src="https://twitter.com/scribe/ibis?uid=0&iid=e1e80358187c407aa0e39086fbd5e70b&nid=156+20+20141017&t=1" /> </td> </tr> <tr> <td valign="top"> <!-- Top corners --> <table class="top-corners" bgcolor="#eeeeee" width="522" border="0" align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"> <tbody> <tr> <td height="12" valign="top"><img class="cut" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; display: block;margin:0px;padding:0px;display:block;" border="0" src="https://ea.twimg.com/email/t1/invite/top-corners.png" width="522" height="12" alt="Top corners image" /></td> </tr> </tbody> </table> <!--/ Top corners --> <!-- Content --> <table style="border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 1px; border-left-color: #cccccc; border-right-style: solid; border-right-width: 1px; border-right-color: #cccccc;" class="content" bgcolor="#ffffff" width="522" border="0" align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"> <tbody> <tr> <td width="522" align="center" valign="top"> <table class="invite" width="520" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0"> <tbody> <tr> <td class="spacer" width="9%"> </td> <td class="invite-top spacer" height="38" width="82%" valign="top"> </td> <td class="spacer" width="9%"> </td> </tr> <tr> <td> </td> <td align="center" valign="top"> <table width="100%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0"> <tbody> <tr> <td> </td> <td class="avatar avatar-last" width="96"><a href="https://twitter.com/i/redirect?url=https%3A%2F%2Ftwitter.com%2Fi%2Fa0894f9d-191e-40ba-81ce-7428ccb132a0&t=1&sig=179785c233e1f7d262aae01fbed11fd738a918b5&iid=e1e80358187c407aa0e39086fbd5e70b&uid=0&nid=156+478+20141017" style="color:#0084b4;text-decoration:none;"><img border="0" class="avatar-image" src="https://pbs.twimg.com/profile_images/516768697604509696/6N0eDt6r_reasonably_small.png" width="96" height="96" style="margin:0px;padding:0px;display:block;border-radius:3px;" /></a></td> <td> </td> </tr> <tr> <td height="20" colspan="5"> </td> </tr> </tbody> </table> <!--/ Avatar images --> </td> <td> </td> </tr> <tr> <td> </td> <td valign="top" align="center"> <p class="names" style="font-family:'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;font-size:18px;line-height:normal;color:#333333;margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:25px;margin-top:2px !important;margin-bottom:22px !important;"> <a href="https://twitter.com/i/redirect?url=https%3A%2F%2Ftwitter.com%2Fi%2Fa0894f9d-191e-40ba-81ce-7428ccb132a0&t=1&sig=6ac90d1ba2c40b4d354143f68a2d18f5eeee4e0a&iid=e1e80358187c407aa0e39086fbd5e70b&uid=0&nid=156+475+20141017" class="name" style="color:#0084b4;text-decoration:none;font-weight:bold;color:#333333;text-decoration:none;">aJuxt Media Group</a> is still waiting for you to join Twitter... <img width="1" height="1" src="loadimage" style="margin:0px;padding:0px;display:block;" /> </p> </td> <td> </td> </tr> <tr> <td> </td> <td valign="top" align="center"> <table bgcolor="##55acee" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" width="170px" class="button-container" style="white-space:nowrap;background-color:#55acee;background-image:url(https://ea.twimg.com/email/t1/button-bg-sp.png);border-radius:5px;-moz-border-radius:5px;-webkit-border-radius:5px;text-align:center;height:1px;width:180px;"> <tbody> <tr> <td height="44" align="center" class="button-cta" style="font-size:18px;font-weight:bold;white-space:nowrap;overflow:hidden;padding:0px 5px;margin:0px;font-family:'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;-webkit-font-smoothing:antialiased;"> <a href="https://twitter.com/i/redirect?url=https%3A%2F%2Ftwitter.com%2Fi%2Fa0894f9d-191e-40ba-81ce-7428ccb132a0&t=1&sig=3574c2aaf996287d1b7a915a0ef91e9ea39c03f6&iid=e1e80358187c407aa0e39086fbd5e70b&uid=0&nid=156+442+20141017" style="color:#0084b4;text-decoration:none;color:#ffffff;text-decoration:none;"> <bold> Accept invitation </bold> </a> </td> </tr> </tbody> </table> </td> <td> </td> </tr> <tr> <td> </td> <td height="20"> </td> <td> </td> </tr> </tbody> </table> </td> </tr> </tbody> </table> <!--/ Content --> <!-- Envelope --> <table width="100%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0"> <tbody> <tr> <td class="envelope" valign="top"> <img class="cut" border="0" src="https://ea.twimg.com/email/t1/invite/envelope-with-logo.png" width="542" height="133" style="margin:0px;padding:0px;display:block;" /></td> </tr> </tbody> </table> <!--/ Envelope --> </td> </tr> </tbody> </table> <!--/ Frame --> <!-- Footer --> <table class="footer" style="background: url(https://ea.twimg.com/email/t1/invite/footer-shadow.png) top repeat-x; border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 1px; border-top-color: #cccccc;" width="100%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0"> <tbody> <tr> <td valign="top"> <table class="footer-inner" width="500" border="0" align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"> <tbody> <tr> <td height="25"> </td> </tr> <tr> <td class="ios" valign="top"> <p style="font-family:'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;line-height:normal;color:#777777;text-shadow:0 1px 0 #ffffff;margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:15px;">You can <a href="https://twitter.com/i/o?t=1&iid=e1e80358187c407aa0e39086fbd5e70b&uid=0&c=M%2BYJKYxTuxrK2J48QbXC2R3xryMCF8nYK%2BG%2FhidfgVgpVx0Px7Kam5n2jWnfOMPQ&nid=156+26+20141017" style="text-decoration:none;color:#999999;color:#0084b4;text-decoration:none;">stop</a> getting these emails with people you may know (PYMK) suggestions at anytime. Learn more about <a href="https://twitter.com/i/redirect?url=https%3A%2F%2Fsupport.twitter.com%2Farticles%2F20170137&t=1&sig=33dfd2daf97beb3aa97e9d6b91af38193c136286&iid=e1e80358187c407aa0e39086fbd5e70b&uid=0&nid=156+1539+20141017" style="text-decoration:none;color:#999999;color:#0084b4;text-decoration:none;">PYMK suggestions</a> or <a href="https://twitter.com/i/redirect?url=https%3A%2F%2Fsupport.twitter.com&t=1&sig=9e7a83e5415931bf8031e082abfd2652a834712e&iid=e1e80358187c407aa0e39086fbd5e70b&uid=0&nid=156+97+20141017" style="text-decoration:none;color:#999999;color:#0084b4;text-decoration:none;">find other answers</a> at Twitter's Help Center.</p> <p class="address" style="font-family:'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;line-height:normal;color:#777777;text-shadow:0 1px 0 #ffffff;margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:15px;font-family:'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;line-height:normal;color:#999999;text-shadow:0 1px 0 #ffffff;margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:15px;"> <a href="#" style="text-decoration:none;color:#999999;color:#0084b4;text-decoration:none;text-decoration:none;color:#999999;">Twitter, Inc. 1355 Market St., Suite 900<span class="break"></span> San Francisco, CA 94103</a></p> </td> </tr> <tr> <td height="30"> </td> </tr> </tbody> </table> </td> </tr> </tbody> </table> <!--/ Footer --> </td> </tr> </tbody> </table> <!--/ 100% body table, class outerinvite --> Carriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13202272621543605535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225217832623654218.post-88526263516416463722014-10-14T11:50:00.001-05:002014-10-14T11:50:28.811-05:00aJuxt Media Group sent you an invitation<!-- 100% body table, class outerinvite --> <table class="outerinvite" width="100%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0"> <tbody> <tr> <td bgcolor="#eeeeee"> <!-- Frame --> <table class="frame" width="542" border="0" align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"> <tbody> <tr> <td style="font-size: 1px;" class="top-spacer" height="40" valign="top"><img width="1" height="1" style="display: block;margin:0px;padding:0px;display:block;" src="https://twitter.com/scribe/ibis?uid=0&iid=02693a29326a48458f69df1a083b9d6b&nid=244+20&t=1" /> </td> </tr> <tr> <td valign="top"> <!-- Top corners --> <table class="top-corners" bgcolor="#eeeeee" width="522" border="0" align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"> <tbody> <tr> <td height="12" valign="top"><img class="cut" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; display: block;margin:0px;padding:0px;display:block;" border="0" src="https://ea.twimg.com/email/t1/invite/top-corners.png" width="522" height="12" alt="Top corners image" /></td> </tr> </tbody> </table> <!--/ Top corners --> <!-- Content --> <table style="border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 1px; border-left-color: #cccccc; border-right-style: solid; border-right-width: 1px; border-right-color: #cccccc;" class="content" bgcolor="#ffffff" width="522" border="0" align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"> <tbody> <tr> <td width="522" align="center" valign="top"> <table class="invite" width="520" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0"> <tbody> <tr> <td class="spacer" width="9%"> </td> <td class="invite-top spacer" height="38" width="82%" valign="top"> </td> <td class="spacer" width="9%"> </td> </tr> <tr> <td> </td> <td align="center" valign="top"> <table width="100%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0"> <tbody> <tr> <td> </td> <td class="avatar avatar-last" width="96"><a href="https://twitter.com/i/redirect?url=https%3A%2F%2Ftwitter.com%2Fi%2Fa0894f9d-191e-40ba-81ce-7428ccb132a0&t=1&sig=17f709cf63873c7ddd051b50455806696b83ed64&iid=02693a29326a48458f69df1a083b9d6b&uid=0&nid=244+525" style="color:#0084b4;text-decoration:none;"><img border="0" class="avatar-image" src="https://pbs.twimg.com/profile_images/516768697604509696/6N0eDt6r_reasonably_small.png" width="96" height="96" style="margin:0px;padding:0px;display:block;border-radius:3px;" /></a></td> <td> </td> </tr> <tr> <td height="20" colspan="5"> </td> </tr> </tbody> </table> <!--/ Avatar images --> </td> <td> </td> </tr> <tr> <td> </td> <td valign="top" align="center"> <p class="names" style="font-family:'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;font-size:18px;line-height:normal;color:#333333;margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:25px;margin-top:2px !important;margin-bottom:22px !important;"> <a href="https://twitter.com/i/redirect?url=https%3A%2F%2Ftwitter.com%2Fi%2Fa0894f9d-191e-40ba-81ce-7428ccb132a0&t=1&sig=e2abc1bfb084f83f774d192d618f3d3b50424b62&iid=02693a29326a48458f69df1a083b9d6b&uid=0&nid=244+524" class="name" style="color:#0084b4;text-decoration:none;font-weight:bold;color:#333333;text-decoration:none;">aJuxt Media Group</a> has invited you to join Twitter! </p> </td> <td> </td> </tr> <tr> <td> </td> <td valign="top" align="center"> <table bgcolor="##55acee" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" width="170px" class="button-container" style="white-space:nowrap;background-color:#55acee;background-image:url(https://ea.twimg.com/email/t1/button-bg-sp.png);border-radius:5px;-moz-border-radius:5px;-webkit-border-radius:5px;text-align:center;height:1px;width:180px;"> <tbody> <tr> <td height="44" align="center" class="button-cta" style="font-size:18px;font-weight:bold;white-space:nowrap;overflow:hidden;padding:0px 5px;margin:0px;font-family:'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;-webkit-font-smoothing:antialiased;"> <a href="https://twitter.com/i/redirect?url=https%3A%2F%2Ftwitter.com%2Fi%2Fa0894f9d-191e-40ba-81ce-7428ccb132a0&t=1&sig=41e8c1b178e3847a477c67fd26cb51e9123e7758&iid=02693a29326a48458f69df1a083b9d6b&uid=0&nid=244+442" style="color:#0084b4;text-decoration:none;color:#ffffff;text-decoration:none;"> <bold> Accept invitation </bold> </a> </td> </tr> </tbody> </table> </td> <td> </td> </tr> <tr> <td> </td> <td height="20"> </td> <td> </td> </tr> <!--dir: ab_social_proof.html--> <!--end dir: ab_social_proof.html--> </tbody> </table> </td> </tr> </tbody> </table> <!--/ Content --> <!-- Envelope --> <table width="100%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0"> <tbody> <tr> <td class="envelope" valign="top"> <img class="cut" border="0" src="https://ea.twimg.com/email/t1/invite/envelope-with-logo.png" width="542" height="133" style="margin:0px;padding:0px;display:block;" /></td> </tr> </tbody> </table> <!--/ Envelope --> </td> </tr> </tbody> </table> <!--/ Frame --> <!-- Footer --> <table class="footer" style="background: url(https://ea.twimg.com/email/t1/invite/footer-shadow.png) top repeat-x; border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 1px; border-top-color: #cccccc;" width="100%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0"> <tbody> <tr> <td valign="top"> <table class="footer-inner" width="500" border="0" align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"> <tbody> <tr> <td height="25"> </td> </tr> <tr> <td class="ios" valign="top"> <p style="font-family:'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;line-height:normal;color:#777777;text-shadow:0 1px 0 #ffffff;margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:15px;">You can <a href="https://twitter.com/i/o?t=1&iid=02693a29326a48458f69df1a083b9d6b&uid=0&c=M%2BYJKYxTuxrK2J48QbXC2R3xryMCF8nYK%2BG%2FhidfgVgpVx0Px7Kam5n2jWnfOMPQ&nid=244+26" style="text-decoration:none;color:#999999;color:#0084b4;text-decoration:none;">stop</a> getting these emails with people you may know (PYMK) suggestions at anytime. Learn more about <a href="https://twitter.com/i/redirect?url=https%3A%2F%2Fsupport.twitter.com%2Farticles%2F20170137&t=1&sig=edcbabd0990bed98d58e29f3a96d35dc41168ab6&iid=02693a29326a48458f69df1a083b9d6b&uid=0&nid=244+1539" style="text-decoration:none;color:#999999;color:#0084b4;text-decoration:none;">PYMK suggestions</a> or <a href="https://twitter.com/i/redirect?url=https%3A%2F%2Fsupport.twitter.com&t=1&sig=97668136606d8a9f20ad60558e272530c3928fbf&iid=02693a29326a48458f69df1a083b9d6b&uid=0&nid=244+97" style="text-decoration:none;color:#999999;color:#0084b4;text-decoration:none;">find other answers</a> at Twitter's Help Center.</p> <p class="address" style="font-family:'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;line-height:normal;color:#777777;text-shadow:0 1px 0 #ffffff;margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:15px;font-family:'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;line-height:normal;color:#999999;text-shadow:0 1px 0 #ffffff;margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:15px;"> <a href="#" style="text-decoration:none;color:#999999;color:#0084b4;text-decoration:none;text-decoration:none;color:#999999;">Twitter, Inc. 1355 Market St., Suite 900<span class="break"></span> San Francisco, CA 94103</a></p> </td> </tr> <tr> <td height="30"> </td> </tr> </tbody> </table> </td> </tr> </tbody> </table> <!--/ Footer --> </td> </tr> </tbody> </table> <!--/ 100% body table, class outerinvite --> Carriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13202272621543605535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225217832623654218.post-30242594825455754972014-05-12T23:44:00.000-05:002014-05-12T23:44:26.452-05:00May or May Not MondayI may or may not have thrown a dinner party this weekend and came to several conclusions. I failed to count for the need to have butts in chairs because I was serving spaghetti and meatballs. I clearly need to find a better dining space for people when I throw parties. Or serve shit on sticks so people don't have to sit down to eat. I also failed to properly maintain the kid factor. I did nothing to entertain them and had not really thought of them eating. I fed them first but few of them really ate, wanting to play more. After that the children descended into mob mentality madness that has scarred the cats forever I'm afraid.<br />
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I may or may not have spent my entire Mother's Day in my bed. <br />
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I may or may not be planning to wash the sheets tomorrow. After spending an entire day in them the are a little bit groady.<br />
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I may or may not be doing everything in my power to get a new car. Scrimping and saving and begging my husband everyday. We just need a bigger car, especially with visiting family and having to pick people up from the airport. I may or may not have cancelled a vacation to save for this car, that's how badly I want it. No NEED it.<br />
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I may or may not have a love hate relationship with TV from books. Like Game of Thrones. I loved those books and to know what is going to happen next almost ruins the tv show for me.<br />
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I may or may not have cried during this week's episode of 16 & Pregnant. Babies who have breathing problems and end up in the NICU hit way too close to home.<br />
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I may or may not also cringe when I watch 16 & Pregnant and see the parents go straight to formula. I try really really hard not to be judgmental against Mom's who use formula, but something tells me these girls don't even try.<br />
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I may or may not need a nap. Like lots of naps, successively. I'm angry I wasted naps as a child.<br />
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I may or may not be getting VERY excited for my parents visit.<br />
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I may or may not be looking forward to the neighborhood GARBAGE sale this weekend. UGH. Hate GARBAGE sales. And no, that is not a misspelling.<br />
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I may or may not have ended this post early to meet the "Monday" deadline.<br />
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<br />Carriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13202272621543605535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225217832623654218.post-38627320881048760022014-05-05T15:41:00.002-05:002014-05-05T15:41:52.563-05:00May or May Not MondayI may or may not hate myself for these being the only blog posts I can write consistently.<br />
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I may or may not be completely obsessed with being friends with my new neighbors next door. Seth tells me I'm going to smother them and scare them away, but I'm hoping that they are just as lonely as I am and just as desperate for human interaction with people that don't shit their pants. The thought of just shouting over the fence and having a conversation is something that seems so impossibly magical to me that I am dying to make it happen. Plus she is just as completely un p.c. as I am. And I think this will make for a great friendship.<br />
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I may or may not be doing 50 things at once and getting none of them done completely. For example I am in the office writing this, but I keep glancing around and seeing things I need to do, like address our "moving" cards and keep "squirelling!" and not finishing this post.<br />
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I may or may not want, more than anything a new fucking cellphone for Mother's Day. Seth has already informed me he forgot mother's day completely. Shit.<br />
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I may or may not be counting the seconds to Happy Hour at Sonic today.<br />
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I may or may not have had to take my son to the ER at 11 last night because he cracked his head open again. I'm starting to worry he has a balance disorder. My dad has one and I thought it wasn't genetic but now I'm thinking it is. But I seriously do not want to go to the ER ever again. Also I need to know where to invest in skin glue, in bulk. Thank GOD we have made friends with our lovely neighbors mentioned above and I just happened to be Facebook chatting with her when Lukas rolled off the bed and caught the corner of the dresser. I may or may not have taken him to a different ER then the one two weeks ago to avoid judgement.<br />
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I may or may not have stopped writing this post to drive to Sonic.<br />
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I may or may not still wear shoes in the house and have yet to go barefoot because the carpet still grosses me out.<br />
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I may or may not be stopping this post to go take a nap.<br />
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Love (honesty, or not),<br />
Carrie<br />
<br />Carriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13202272621543605535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225217832623654218.post-4371746171460520742014-04-28T18:28:00.001-05:002014-04-28T18:28:30.906-05:00May or May Not Mondaya.k.a the only thing I've done consistently in MONTHS<br />
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I may or may not despise my phone, almost enough to be okay to get a new one. It spends most of its time on the charger and I turn into a raging banshee if anyone touches it. I even get bent out of shape if people call me. Not only do I hate talking on the phone, but now it causes my charger to shake and stop charging. I may or may not be praying my husband gets a minute to get us new phones.<br />
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I may or may not be forcing my children to play together. Which causes me much drama. I spend a good portion of my day breaking up fights. I'm starting to wonder if I'm doing the right thing here.<br />
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I may or may not have had a total breakdown Friday night. To the point that I drank the leftover bottle of celebratory champagne left in the fridge. I NEVER, RARELY EVER, drink. The next day God rewarded me with 2 early rising children who just discovered that I unpacked their walking popper.<br />
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I may or may not have spent all day doing laundry because I fell back asleep after Evie handed me her night milk before I got a chance to put it back on the nightstand. When I fell asleep the milk spilled for an hour. So all my duvets were soaked thru. And my dryer has started to smell again, I suspect to the constant use today. But I'm so terrified of the stinky, toilet using Russians that showed up to fulfill our warranty contract that I hesitate to call them back out again.<br />
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I may or may not have fallen asleep because I spend most of my nights in anxiety ridden ANGST over the fact that my daughter has started sleeping in her own room. She usually comes in around 5 am, but I usually have just come to peace with her being in the other room and fallen asleep myself by then. I may or may not blame her sleeping in her room entirely on my husband. But its not his fault, she does it mostly on her own.<br />
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I may or may not need a SAHM job. I want a new car and new tvs and half of IKEA. But legitimate ones of those that don't involve selling shit are few and far between. This may or may not completely frustrate me.<br />
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I may or may not need to go break up a kid fight as we speak, cutting this blog post short.<br />
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Love (my kids),<br />
Carrie<br />
<br />Carriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13202272621543605535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225217832623654218.post-26853781374574755282014-04-21T11:12:00.000-05:002014-04-21T11:12:19.630-05:00May or May not MondayI may or may not be writing this Sunday night at 11 while watching Game of Thrones.<br />
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I may or may not find it frustrating to watch Game of Thrones, especially with my husband, because I've read the books.<br />
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I may or may not have had the worst Easter weekend, ever.<br />
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I may or may not be considering helmet for my son.<br />
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I may or may not have had to go to the ER, due to a pinky tip sized puncture wound on my son's head.<br />
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I may or may not be so sick of boxes, but even more sick of the crap in them.<br />
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I may or may not be seriously purging my shit. <br />
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I may or may not want Sonic and Target giftcards for the rest of my life. <br />
<br />
I may or may not have actually made a half way decent Easter dinner.<br />
<br />
I may or may not giggle when my atheist brother calls Easter "Zombie Jesus Day".<br />
<br />
I may or may not be covered in painful bruises due to boxes and poorly navigating new placement of furniture.<br />
<br />
I may or may not love my garden tub.<br />
<br />
I may or may not have missed my Dad to the point I was almost sick when I had to sit in the hospital curtained area by myself with my son and hold him down while they put the glue on. Or when my daughter was so upset for causing his wound that she kept saying "my apologies! My APOLOGIES!" and was crying more than he was.<br />
<br />
I may or may not be learning to love my kitchen. Tonite I chose to do extra dish washing so I could watch the kids play in the backyard. Shortly after I turned away and my son chose to eat concrete for the second time this weekend, I suspect aided by his sister, but we can't get a straight story from her.<br />
<br />
I may or may not have enjoyed my time in the ER because it was the first time I sat down, besides seven minutes for dinner, all day.<br />
<br />
Love (dreaming about not having to unpack boxes),<br />CarrieCarriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13202272621543605535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225217832623654218.post-65397492438930017482014-04-14T11:55:00.000-05:002014-04-14T11:55:14.574-05:00May or May Not MondayIt's time for May or May Not Monday! Visit my inspiration at her <a href="http://butamereshadow.blogspot.com/2014/04/may-or-may-not-monday_14.html">blog</a> for her weekly confession.<br />
<br />
I may or may not have been appalled when I saw the washer and dryer that came with our house. It was circa 1995 at least. They didn't match and they looked like the kind of washer and dryer that NEVER DIE. Seth told me that until they died, we couldn't even consider getting new ones. I may or may not have said "challenge accepted" on Facebook, but in reality I may or may not have really liked the damn things once I started using them. They were big and I am notorious for overloading my washer and dryer. I could fit my king sized comforters with room to spare. <br />
The dryer may or may not have started to royally fuck up our clothes, something is happening and it makes our clothes smell like we stood in front of the grill at a BBQ. I tried changing the settings so there was barely any heat and no dice, still unbearable. <br />
I may or may not be disappointed.<br />
I also may or may not be totally grumpy about having to deal with the home warranty baloney that we will have to deal with to get it fixed. Although I am very grateful that we got one. But I was more hoping that it would be for something vastly more catastrophic, not my dryer that I was planning to use in the basement once I got new ones a few years from now.<br />
<br />
Its our last week in the hotel and I may or may not be getting a bit sentimental and starting to think I will miss it. Of course the maid service and the free breakfast and free dinner three days a week, I'm going to miss my lackadaisical attitude about spills, messes, and stains. Yesterday Lukas may or may not have peed on the carpet while we were getting ready to go to the pool and I may or may not have shrugged my shoulders and walked away. And I'm going to miss all that free hot water.<br />
<br />
I may or may not be incredibly sad that we are missing Easter at my parents. I may or may not have tried every possible way to try and make it work, but with our goods being delivered on Friday and Saturday there is just no way I can make it there and back.<br />
I may or may not be able to tell my mom how sad it makes me because I'm so tired of making her sad about us not being there.<br />
<br />
I may or may not get incredibly jealous when my friends and family do things together and then post pictures or talk about it on facebook. I may or may not hope this passes, because it is completely not fair and I don't want everyone to mope around for years. But I may or may not have wished people would just get together and talk about how much they missed me.<br />
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I may or may not have spent so much at Ikea that I'm afraid to ever go back there. There person who actually spent so much at Ikea may or may not have been my husband just throwing random things in the cart. I may or may not be taking the blame because he has to keep up his Ikea hatred. I think it comes with his man card.<br />
<br />
I may or may not really dislike my son's attitude most of the time. Where my daughter would just pout if we told her no, my son may throw epic fits complete with foot stomps, throwing things, flopping on the floor, screaming, and swinging fists. He is also suffering from "if my sister can do it so can I". I may or may not find this incredibly frustrating. I may or may not be pretending that his sister never acted like this but I may or may not be mentally blocking it. Like the pain of labor.<br />
<br />
I may or may not have found an age spot under my eye and I may or may not be totally freaking out about it. Especially since someone on facebook suggested that my joke that it may be cancer may actually not be a joke.<br />
<br />
Love (hotel living),<br />
Carrie<br />
<br />
<br />Carriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13202272621543605535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225217832623654218.post-38062791053827522902014-04-07T11:43:00.002-05:002014-04-07T11:43:45.011-05:00May or May Not MondayI may or may not have stolen this idea from my lovely friend over at http://butamereshadow.blogspot.com/<br />
<br />
I may or may not have stolen an obscene amount of shampoo, conditioner, soap, tea, milk, and paper towels from the hotel. But they way I see it, we pay for it. Also I'm collecting for all of the family and friends I am hoping visit us.<br />
<br />
I may or may not have an appointment with the aquatics director at the Y closest to us today and I may or may not have talked myself in and out of cancelling it. We already have a pool in our community and I don't see myself going to the Y or needing it unless Evie doesn't get into the free preschool. I also may or may not like the rule that I have to be in the pool with her until she is like 8, even during lessons. I also may or may not have a better plan for that money, like putting together my reading nook.<br />
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I may or may not have gotten so angry that my hotel didn't carry PBS that I binge watched the new seasons of "Call the Midwife" and "Mr. Selfridge".<br />
<br />
I may or may not have gotten my necklace caught in the shopping cart while kissing Evie in Home Depot and broke the clasp. I may or may not have had a total anxiety attack about it. Its still not fixed and it is making me crazy.<br />
<br />
I may or may not hate eating breakfast. But because of the aforementioned may or may not, I may have to go down and get milk for the kids. <br />
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I may or may not have started being even more critical of my body since moving to Colorado. I very rarely see an out of shape or overweight person and it makes me very self conscious. <br />
<br />
I may or may not miss my family and friends so badly it almost hurts to talk to them. But I may or may not get really upset when they don't call me or talk to me daily, as if I'm forgotten or not important to them anymore.<br />
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I may or may not have started showering in the morning. It started because Lukas likes to crap his pants and rub his breakfast all over his face. Now there is a huge (minus Seth) family shower, I may or may not be sad about this ending once we move into the new house. Water and towels are free here. Not at the new house.<br />
<br />
I may or may not be falling in love with my new house, especially since the new paint has gone up. My husband's excitement may or may not be contributing to this. He is so giddy and happy, its so great to see.<br />
<br />
I may or may not worry about our new house, even though there isn't much in it, when we are not there. I also may or may not worry about our hotel room because its where all our stuff is. I can't wait until we are out of the hotel, but I may or may not miss quite a few things living here.<br />
<br />
I may or may not be avoiding posting this because I feel like I have 100 more of these but can't think of them!<br />
<br />
Love (new blogging routines),<br />
Carrie<br />
<br />Carriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13202272621543605535noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225217832623654218.post-16227436971642593592014-04-03T13:35:00.000-05:002014-04-03T13:35:23.311-05:00“Well, I know now. I know a little more how much a simple thing like a snowfall can mean to a person” ― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia PlathToday it is snowing. And I mean it is SNOWING. And it makes my heart incredibly happy. <br />
You see because Colorado Springs totes that it gets 300 days of sunshine. I was on week 2 of constant sunshine and my heart was starting to dry up. Just shrivel. <br />
BUT TODAY!<br />
Today it is snowing. Sometimes so hard I can't see out the windows and across the street to the parking lot full of trucks and SUV's. Usually that lot is full of corvettes and and other sports cars.<br />
<br />
I've spent the day doing family paperwork. Changing addresses, making new doctor's appointments, requesting medical records. Normally this would make me a hot mess of frustrated and bored. But today, every time I'm told I need to use my non existent since 1999 fax machine to return a form SOMEONE FUCKING EMAILED TO ME, I look up and out the window to the snow and the mountains and the quiet and I'm okay. I don't need to mainline a shot of loreazepam to make my next phone call. <br />
<br />
I just need to look up.<br />
<br />
Because its snowing today.<br />
<br />
Tomorrow we close on our house, and my anxiety was THRU THE ROOF and I was overwhelmed and undecided.<br />
<br />
But today, today it snowed.<br />
<br />
And now I know, its okay here. In fact, it does one of my favorite things here at random times. And there aren't many mosquitos in the summer, or so I hear. And the sectional I picked out will fit in the space I picked out for it. And the owners left behind paint so we don't have to guess at the color we are going to use to cover up the TEAL walls in Seth's office. And the laundry room is right next to the kids bedrooms and on their way to the bathrooms so they can strip down and put clothes where I don't have to haul them. And I still love IKEA and it still has reasonable decorating options. If I can tear myself away from the duvet section. And all the windows open in my house so I can get a good breeze moving thru the house. And my walk in closet can be turned into a reading/couponing nook.<br />
<br />
I can see the bright side today, because the sun stopped shining and it snowed.<br />
<br />
Love (snow),<br />
Carrie<br />
<br />
Carriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13202272621543605535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225217832623654218.post-56783684672119033022014-04-02T14:42:00.000-05:002014-04-02T14:42:06.820-05:00“The only thing worse than a boy who hates you: a boy that loves you.” ― Markus Zusak, The Book ThiefToday's post is about Lukas. I realize that I completely neglected his story in my years of missed blogging. This is Lukas:<br />
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Well at least that was Lukas when he was born. But he still has that button nose and those blond eyebrows.<br />
Wait I'll show you:<br />
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He like his sister was an early walker. And since we co sleep, he's also a pretty good sleeper. He was sleeping thru the night at about a month. I can't say about how co sleeping makes me a better mother.<br />
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Lukas' birth was pretty minimal on the drama, not like Evie's. I had to actually labor with Lukas which sucked big fat donkey balls. Give me an induction and epidural straight to the vein when I walk in any day.<br />
<br />
Lukas is so different from Evie. I always thought gender roles were taught, but Lukas is all boy, its almost scary.<br />
He runs head first into things, he is rough and tumble. He likes high fives and hugs only when he is tired. he's already refusing to hold my hand when he walks. <br />
Lukas has the best smile and the brightest eyes. He loves his sister and wants to do and be everywhere she is. Much to her chagrin. He isn't too much of a cuddler but he loves a good head bonk. He also loves to eat about 12 times a day. We joke that he is on his fourth dinner when he heads for bed at night and asks for a string cheese or cracker.<br />
<br />
I've been writing this post for three days now. I feel like I just can't capture his spirit and my incredible love for him and its madding. Writing is so maddening sometimes.<br />
<br />
Love (my boy),<br />CarrieCarriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13202272621543605535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225217832623654218.post-82125451254446829422014-03-31T22:01:00.001-05:002014-03-31T22:01:23.798-05:00“No, this is not the beginning of a new chapter in my life; this is the beginning of a new book! That first book is already closed, ended, and tossed into the seas; this new book is newly opened, has just begun! Look, it is the first page! And it is a beautiful one!” ― C. JoyBell C.Why does every story or advice about beginning a new beginning start with destroying the past? Shutting the book, lighting it on fire and then pissing on the ashes as you screech away to your new "future"?<br />
<br />
Whatever happened to "remembering your past, where you came from?" When did loving the place that you were become so unhealthy?<br />
<br />
Is it when immigrants were busy cooking their home foods for their families? Working their fingers to the bones and asking their children who were slowly becoming "Americanized" to remember to honor their ancestors and their traditions and values?<br />
<br />
My situation is not that extreme but it seems like every time I put something about missing my family and friends on facebook or I straight tell my family and friends that I miss them, I get told to move on, and to focus on my new life and my new future. I'm told to get excited about my new house that I'm overwhelmed and underwhelmed with decorating. I'm asked about my children's future, the school they will go to, what activities I'm going to put them in, when I'm going to get them back into the things they like to do. <br />
<br />
You know what my kids like to do? They like to go on hikes with their Grandma. They like to eat big meals at my parents table and sit next to their Dad Dad and eat his special Dad Dad noodles made special for them alone. They prefer to ride in my Dad's vehicle because its big and room and the doors light up fun colors and they can take a snooze without their mom screeching that they are ruining bedtime. They like to dig holes in the garden, fill the bird feeders. They like to get new clothes from their Aunt Pam and play with Cousin Colin. They love to go to the YMCA and see Mr. Joey for preschool and pretend to be beside themselves with anguish when I leave them for an hour to workout in the kindercare. And they LOVE LOVE LOVE to swim. How do I get them back to that? How do I make new memories without erasing the old ones? The ones that are so important to me that they remember? The past that I don't want them to forget. The book they need to shut in order to start new? The book I refuse to put back on the shelf because I don't think its done, I haven't finished writing in it.<br />
<br />
This week we buy the house, my anxiety is so bad that I can hardly leave the hotel room. I find that the fact I got out of bed a win today. But the kids helped push that. The kids and the maid who wanted to change the sheets. I love fresh sheets. If I won the lottery the first thing I would do would be to hire someone who would change my 4000 count sheets everyday. Completely beside my point.<br />
<br />
The point is, new beginnings don't have to completely destroy the past do they? I'm not naive to think things won't change, but I'm hoping that in my effort to move to my new beginning, that I don't lose all the things I love about where I came from. <br />
<br />
Love (my past),<br />
CarrieCarriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13202272621543605535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225217832623654218.post-57129050947325208682014-03-27T17:55:00.001-05:002014-03-27T17:55:29.073-05:00“being alone never felt right. sometimes it felt good, but it never felt right.” ― Charles Bukowski, WomenSo today is the first day we go out and socialize, see other people. Of course its people from Seth's work, so I'm sure we will be drowning in work talk and I will get horrible bored and be the only person paying attention to my kids destroy these people new house.<br />
We have our own little community of ex-pats here, transplant from LM Omaha to LM Colorado Springs. It seems though, that I'm the only wife stupid enough to get talked into living in a hotel room for 30 days with my tiny humans.<br />
<br />
The room by the way, has taken on a funk. I like to blame Seth for it. One night we discovered the coolers really didn't "Keep things cold for 5 days!" as advertised so boldly on the giant stickers that no one ever takes off. Why don't we take those off? I went to take ours off and Seth looked at me like I was crazy. What is there some kind of secret man instructions on there? <br />
<br />
Anyway, we scrambled to rearrange the freezer to save the expensive meat that was more important than the frozen meals I was using. Seth decided to cook cookies, then he decided to bake some bacon. So our room has smelled terrible since. That and the fact that we brought our own GIANT trash can but conviently forgot the lid. So we have an open air trashcan, that admittedly, gets emptied once a day, but in 500 sq ft and one shit filled diaper and the weird cookie/bacon funk, means I've got the heat on and the windows open.<br />
<br />
Also I am exceedingly grateful that the movers refused to pack the aerosol air fresheners from my stockpile and Seth just threw the box in the back of the truck.<br />
<br />
I realized today after the maid came thru that she must think I have OCD. We have our own vaccuum, and entire rubbermaid with cleaning supplies, a box of aerosol air fresheners, and gobs of hand sanitizer and hand soap. I also pick up the room before I leave to make sure she can get clean whatever it is she is cleaning. I mostly do it for the fresh sheets and towels. Today though I was annoyed that there was still obvious small people kisses and hand prints all over the closet mirrors. I know you have windex, and if you don't, there is a rubbermaid half full of it right there.<br />
<br />
What week am I on anyway? This is week three, right? Right? What do you mean barely week 2? <br />
<br />
Love (when loneliness feels good),<br />
CarrieCarriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13202272621543605535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225217832623654218.post-18640647267148435272014-03-26T12:16:00.001-05:002014-03-26T12:16:23.049-05:00“Friendship is born at that moment when one man says to another: "What! You too? I thought that no one but myself . . ."” ― C.S. Lewis, The Four LovesI didn't see my friends a lot when I lived by them in Omaha. But now, for some reason, being further away from them and not having the ability to go out to dinner with them or see them for events makes my heart heavy. I struggle everyday not to nag them to death about when they are going to visit. Every email or text I have to delete the line "so let's get something on the calendar, when do you want to come out?" I don't want to force anyone out here, I mean, I hardly saw you when I lived in town!<br />
<br />
Yesterday I ventured out all by myself. Well with the kids too. The point is, I decided to go couponing. I talked the kids into it with the promise of new balls and play-doh. When it came time to vacate the room for housekeeping (who subsequently never came and I had to sit downstairs and extra hour after asking them to clean) I threw the kids in the car and fired up the GPS and we were off. I was only nervous once, when the GPS didn't tell me in time to go left or right and I had to screetch across three lanes to turn left. In the end with coupons I only spent 22 bucks for the whole day and came home with a good sized haul. Mostly free wipes, which I always say I don't need but let's be real, I went thru a pack this week!<br />
<br />
I should take the kids out today and let them play in the warm weather. I wish there was a better place to let Evie ride her bike and Lukas run and fall. The field behind the hotel is covered in dog bombs and brambles and thorns. <br />
<br />
Lukas is starting to turn from a sweet little boy into a destructive heartbreaker. He's started to refuse to hold my hand and spends most of his day smashing things or destroying them. *sigh* Its so frustrating because I feel like I've done something wrong as a mom, I'm pretty adamant about no hitting and hugs and kisses and lately Lukas has turned to straight out punching to get attention. Instead of playing with toys he stomps them. He's obsessed with wearing his tennis shoes and I usually have to wait until he is asleep to take them off.<br />
<br />
In a completely different vein, here are some things I've wondered so far about Colorado-<br />
<br />
Why are there so few trees? Is it the desert thing? Because there is a whole area on my map called the "Black Forest" and I find it hard to believe that trees can exist over there but not in my new yard.<br />
<br />
Why is it so hard to find a speed limit sign? I spent half of my adventure yesterday wondering what the hell the speed limit was. I feel like I have a big "pull me over for a small offense" sign on the back of my car in the shape of my out of state license plate.<br />
<br />
People are super friendly, seemingly happy, and skinny. Where are all the chunky Coloradans hiding?<br />
<br />
There are a surprising lack of Walmarts and a disturbing number of Targets.<br />
<br />
The WIND! The WIND! Why is the wind so horrible?!?! And random? Why don't the weather reports mention that today you are going to have your car door blown shut on your leg?<br />
<br />
Love (brave moments),<br />
Carrie<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Carriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13202272621543605535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225217832623654218.post-72794166239428812592014-03-24T15:24:00.000-05:002014-03-24T15:24:38.487-05:00“Children aren't coloring books. You don't get to fill them with your favorite colors.” ― Khaled HosseiniI long for a door. I mean it. I never want a door and maybe a couple of feet of wall more in my whole life than I do right now. Living in a hotel is hard, its harder when its basically one big room and the only room with a door is the bathroom and its cold and there are questionable spots of paint and caulking in there that I am sure are hiding mold. Also the only place to sit is the toilet and the seat shifts out from under you in an effort to pinch your ass. So at 7 in the morning when my husband leaves, it stirs the boy and within a half an hour he is awake. His new style of waking up really pisses me off. Its like he is still tired but his brain is awake so he has this fight with himself, and subsequently me that includes kicking and screaming and crying and carrying on as though his ass is on fire, when it clearly is not. Nothing annoys me more. Especially at 8 in the morning.<br />
Sidebar here-I'm aware there are some kids who are even worse than mine and get up at the o-ass-crackery of dawn. I pity you, I do. But not really. Because that is your kid and that's how your kid rolls. My kid does not roll like that, usually. One of the perks of co-sleeping, and let's be honest, its my top perk, is that your kids sleep as long as you do because they pattern their breathing and their REM around yours. So I guess in effect, I've sleep trained my children to sleep in. The fact that they are not doing what they are supposed to is seriously pissing me off. <br />
So Lukas' little dramatic fit leads to me having to get up and eventually, leads to me doing things that wake up Evelynn. God Bless her, if there is one part of me that Evelynn got it is the ability to sleep until 1 if I let her. And like her mother, Evie isn't exactly pleasant. <br />
So until about 12, we all sit around starring daggers at each other.<br />
I long for a door.<br />
<br />Carriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13202272621543605535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225217832623654218.post-87588176110642365192014-03-21T17:06:00.000-05:002014-03-21T17:06:10.520-05:00“And the danger is that in this move toward new horizons and far directions, that I may lose what I have now, and not find anything except loneliness.” ― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia PlathI've noticed I watch the clock a hell of a lot more now than I did before. <br />
<br />
And the clock moves slow.<br />
<br />
Lukas hasn't been sleeping in like he was when we lived in my parents basement in a room with no windows and room darkening curtains on the french doors.<br />
I always thought in my dream house, our bedroom would have french doors. I know now that I have absolutely no need of french doors. Zero. They let in too much light and in the dark they reflect images that make me pee my pants a little. So no, no more french doors in my dream house. And french doors with curtains that cover the windows is completely counter to the purpose of them. And tacky. Besides the point.<br />
<br />
I'm not a "light" person. I'm very much a fall and winter person. I like my days overcast and grey and my nights as pitch black as it can get. I've been reading up on Colorado Springs and apparently they have 300 days of sunshine. Fuck. My third investment in the new house is room darkening curtains. My second is a sectional for the living room, and my first is paint to cover up the HORRID pumpkin accent wall in the kitchen. There are very few things I hate more in this world than anything pumpkin. People who diddle and kill kids is above pumpkin on that list, but not by far.<br />
<br />
I do a lot of thinking about a house I've only seen once for 15 minutes. I feel like its another one of those rush decisions, like the money pit (aka Olive Street) that we may come to regret. I hope not, but the fact that I don't even know how many drawers are in my bathroom scares me.<br />
<br />
I'm obsessed with the mountains. Its the one thing that makes me exceedingly happy so far. I only wish that we were surrounded by mountains, not just the mountains on one side. I want to innate my facebook with random mountain pictures, but as of yet, I've refrained. Mostly because I only have seen one range of mountains on a quick walk with the kids, otherwise I haven't left the hotel since we arrived. Hopefully we get out and about this weekend. That is, if my husband ever comes home from work today. How in the hell is it only 5?!!? <br />
<br />
Love (mountains and darkness),<br />
Carrie<br />
<br />Carriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13202272621543605535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225217832623654218.post-38452494780382253812014-03-20T16:24:00.001-05:002014-03-20T16:24:42.482-05:00“She took a step and didn't want to take any more, but she did.” ― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">Consider A Move</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">The steady time of being unknown,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">in solitude, without friends,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">is not a steadiness that sustains.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">I hear your voice waver on the phone:</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" />
<em style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">Haven't talked to anyone for days.<br />I drive around. I sit in parking lots.</em><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">The voice zeroes through my ear, and waits.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">What should I say? There are ways</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">to meet people you will want to love?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">I know of none. You come out stronger</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">having gone through this? I no longer</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">believe that, if I once did. Consider a move,</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">a change, a job, a new place to live,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">someplace you'd like to be. </span><em style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">That's not it</em><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">you say. Now time turns back. We almost touch.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">Then what is? I ask. What is?” </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">― </span><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/59436.Michael_Ryan" style="background-color: white; color: #666600; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-decoration: none;">Michael Ryan</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">, </span><i style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/322454" style="color: #666600; text-decoration: none;">New and Selected Poems</a></i><br />
<br />
That's right people, a new chapter has started, we moved to Colorado Springs. For Seth's work. And I am trapped in a 500 foot hotel room for thirty days with my two small children. Which is loads better than yesterday when I was was trapped in a car for 600 miles with two small children.<br />
Being the responsible wonderful mother that I am, I abstained from my addiction, Facebook updating. But I had a LOT of moments where I wanted to update my rampant thoughts.<br />
Like the following:<br />
Whoever gave my daughter 650 stickers for her birthday, THANK YOU, she has been quietly placing them on paper for 200 miles now.<br />
My husband's cruise control is broken, or his foot is, because he cannot maintain the speed he seems to think he is driving.<br />
Jesus Denver drivers will cut in front of you with a hair of space and not even blink. I don't think I puckered so much in my whole life.<br />
I have callouses on my hands from driving.<br />
I am NEVER making this drive alone with these two kids again.<br />
I feel like a one armed tour director.<br />
JESUS son, work with me here. If I give you something to do, do it, don't quarterback it to the door so when I open the door at the pit stops all this shit falls out on me.<br />
Wait, how much play-dough did Evie just eat? God, I hope I don't see that later.<br />
<br />
So as you can imagine it was a long trip.<br />
<br />
So now we are here, living hotel life, for at least two weeks, we close on the house and while we still have another two weeks in the hotel, at least we can go over to the house and explore the neighborhood and paint some walls. So far, I don't mind the hotel life. I haven't let the maid in yet, and I've survived my first lunch. If Lukas would sleep past 8 that would be nice. One of the BEST parts is that the hotel has a dinner provided three days a week. So three days a week I don't have to worry about what to make for dinner.<br />
The downside is that we have four carloads (I sent Seth with truckloads on both of his trips back to Omaha) of junk just piled in every nook and cranny of our room, so I feel bad making them trying to work around our shit, but one thing we remembered about our first stay here was the tiny ass trash cans so we brought a giant one and now I to figure out how to empty it since it is stinking up the whole damn room.<br />
<br />
I also have to fight every day not to have a complete emotional breakdown over leaving my family and friends. But yesterday I lost that battle, luckily after I had the kids asleep and I was in my bath.<br />
<br />
So here we are on day 1. So far everyone is in one piece, we had mac and cheese for lunch, and we went for a walk with minimal drama, and we missed the maid. So I'm putting today in the win column.<br />
<br />
Love, (that day one was do able),<br />
Carrie<br />
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<br />Carriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13202272621543605535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225217832623654218.post-82712344567483026562012-11-05T12:38:00.000-06:002012-11-05T12:38:28.301-06:00At every party there are two kinds of people - those who want to go home and those who don't. The trouble is, they are usually married to each other. This weekend we had a diaper keg for our upcoming bundle of joy. Oh that's right, I've been away so long, anyone who isn't my friend on facebook doesn't know that we are expecting a little boy at the beginning of January. Needless to say we are so grateful and excited. Okay by we I mean Seth and I. Evelynn's excitement varies on the day of the week.<br />
<br />
Anyway, because having another shower would have been tacky and greedy, we had a diaper keg, which was the brilliant suggestion of my bestie Kathy. You bring a package of diapers, you get a cup for the keg. Plus there was lots of great food and cake. Here is a picture of the cake.<br />
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It was AMAZING. It had, I kid you not, at least a inch of delicious frosting and super moist marble cake. I'm still kicking myself for not being my grandma and bringing my own tupperware to a party to take some home.<br />
Needless to say, from now on, I'm bringing my own tupperware to parties and I owe my grandmother an apology for mocking her genius.<br />
<br />
But one thing I learned from the party is that my friends have kids now. LOTS of kids. Like when we get together, the kids take over. So here is what I need to remember for when we set up baby boy's "Brew and View" (its like a sip and see which is a southern thing I'm told, you come see the baby and you drink tea, except in my life, you get a beer, hence, the keg).<br />
1. Get lots of kid friendly foods<br />
2. Have kid friendly glasses (Kathy's carpet is now permanently green)<br />
3. Have an area for just the kids which includes toys for all ages, a tv, and a table (luckily Kathy has a swing set, unluckily it was colder than hell out)<br />
4. Have an adult willing to look after those kids, or have it in a place the kids can be seen from the party but not heard. (This one is actually more difficult. But I noticed a lot of parents worrying about their kids and not enjoying themselves)<br />
5. Party favors for kids. Kids like when you give them shit. Especially my kid.<br />
6. Specify on the invite that you can bring your kids.<br />
7. Have the party at a kid friendly time (like not around nap time or bedtime<br />
<br />
And if you live in Nebraska, avoid having a party around the game at all costs or do, if you like people to gather around your television and ignore the pregnant lady in the kitchen demolishing the veggie tray, cheese tray, and cake.<br />
<br />
I should have taken more pictures.<br />
<br />
We are so grateful to our friends the Hagen's for having the party for us and all our friends for coming. And their kids. <br />
<br />
Hopefully this is the start of my blogging again, but I'm not making any promises, this was just way too much to write on facebook.<br />
<br />
Love (parties with good food and friends and family),<br />
CarrieCarriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13202272621543605535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225217832623654218.post-41031201311742272112012-02-15T13:55:00.000-06:002012-02-15T13:55:10.346-06:00“Half of being smart is knowing what you’re dumb at.”I have a feeling I'm turning into every other Mommy blogger out there, because every time I sit down to make a blog post, all I can think about doing, is complaining about the cartoons I watch with Evelynn. You may have noticed, but I'm super cynical. So I have all of these observations about the craziness that is these tv shows. And the life inaccuracies they show. Oh and the attitude of a lot of the characters. But then the other day, our home visit nurse sent me a link that the government uses to test kids intelligence levels (ok that's not the pc term but I can't remember it right now.) Anyway Evelynn tested at age 3. I was blown away. Some of the things they were testing I know I didn't teach her. I mean we just sat down and learned the motions to itsy bitsy spider and I got exhausted after six minutes. After our lesson deteriorated into just me singing and Evelynn dancing I flipped on Nick Jr for her. Suddenly I found them teaching her some of the things I tested her on earlier. There went all my critiques. But if we are taking a moment to let me be an ass, seriously, what do I need to smoke to understand Yo Gabba Gabba?<br />
<br />
Love (that TV can help me be a better Mom/Teacher),<br />
CarrieCarriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13202272621543605535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225217832623654218.post-76019948113046756842012-02-03T16:18:00.000-06:002012-02-03T16:18:35.574-06:00“Don't agonize, organize.”Everyone I'm getting organized today!! In an effort to make things easier for my visitors I've opened up three new blogs.<br />
My first blog is where I will be posting all my pricematching information, including the weekly pricematching for Omaha and also the good deals you can find using coupons. You can find the blog here: <a href="http://carrie-onbaggagesavings.blogspot.com/">http://carrie-onbaggagesavings.blogspot.com/</a><br />
<br />
The second blog is where you will be able to find the menu planning I do. It is updated once a week, usually after the pricematching email goes out, since I try to use the information in the pricematching email to create recipes that are not only yummy but save you money!! You can find that blog here: <a href="http://carrie-onbaggagemenus.blogspot.com/">http://carrie-onbaggagemenus.blogspot.com/</a><br />
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The third blog is where you will find all one billion of my photos that I have been taking. You can find that blog here: <a href="http://carrie-onbaggagepictures.blogspot.com/">http://carrie-onbaggagepictures.blogspot.com/</a><br />
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I hope you will stop on by! If you have any questions let me know!Carriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13202272621543605535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225217832623654218.post-52870314200261143402012-01-28T20:57:00.000-06:002012-01-28T20:57:12.166-06:00"A man on a date wonders if he'll get lucky. The woman already knows."The other night we went to a comedy show and the comedian asked who was on their first date and the some people stupidly volunteered that they were and even more information that they met on match.com.<br />
I hear of people doing this more and more. I want to make jokes about it, but I think secretly I'm jealous. My husband I met because he told his coworker, who was my best friend's husband, that he was giving up abstinence for Lent. So my best friend's husband told him he knew a nymphomaniac. There were no qualifiers or warnings about each other's faults. Sometimes I think it would have been nice to receive that email before I married my husband, it would say things like: Seth is chronically late. He also has a tendency to pick out large facial hairs and throw them in your sink, but not wash them down. If you give Seth is own bathroom, he will never tell you it needs to be cleaned and therefore, makes cleaning it a hazardous task. But worst of all, when you tell Seth you need a nap and its his turn to watch your monster child, this is what you will wake up too:<br />
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I don't think that counts buster.<br />
<br />
In all fairness, I'm totally sure my warning email would have said things like: loves to watch hours of tv and if not watching tv will spend hours reading books. Will constantly whine when her technology doesn't work. At least once a week, will call you crying begging you to come home and bring dinner because she couldn't possibly imagine putting a meal together when she can't even keep the kid from eating crayons. Even though she spends an hour putting together meal planning lists. Even though she is an avid coupon and deal seeker, she will go over budget at least twice a month, but will make it a big deal when she is actually under budget. Even if she is under only a dollar. She will also give birth to the most beautiful exasperating child on the planet earth.<br />
<br />
Love (that my husband and I didn't meet on match.com),<br />
CarrieCarriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13202272621543605535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225217832623654218.post-71536211890781238832012-01-17T15:16:00.001-06:002012-01-17T15:16:12.275-06:00500!!!Welcome to my 500th post! I've been thinking a lot about this post. I love going back to reread my old posts. And I really want to get back to writing. I kind of think of the first 500 posts on my blog as a chapter or a book. And I'm ready to start the next chapter. The first posts were about a newlywed, a working woman, my first pregnancy, and my first days in motherhood.<br />
My life has drastically changed now. I'm far from a newlywed, I'm an old hat at being a mother, I'm a three time miscarriage survivor, a pricematching couponing maverick, a experimental chef in the kitchen, and a facebook status update junkie. I still watch a ton of tv, but I have less opinions on it, as I'm usually multitasking thru it.<br />
I have odd experiences being a mom, even odder couponing experiences, I want to be able to provide my experiences with miscarriage in hopes of providing comfort and identification with other miscarriage survivors and also to help their family and friends. I want to make you laugh, I want to make you giggle, I want to be real, but most of all, I want to write about me.<br />
I hope I can live up to these expectations!!!<br />
And if not, well, at the end of the day, my kid still loves me, especially when I have cheese in my hand.<br />
<br />
Love (being able to share with you all),<br />
CarrieCarriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13202272621543605535noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225217832623654218.post-45437038850456461622011-09-15T14:58:00.000-05:002011-09-15T14:58:05.661-05:00How is it she is stronger than I am? She's a baby! We are trying to help you!Last night I watched the new show "Up all night" and while I liked it, there were parts I could do with out and parts I could do with more. Basically I wanted the show to be about how crazy it is to be a stay at home mom, after being a working woman. And how crazy it is to have a kid change your life. Because trust me, it can be pretty funny. <br />
Here is an example of how my day goes.<br />
<br />
7:15- Wake up and make my husband (who gets to escape, I mean goes to work) coffee, breakfast, and lunch. I also have to pack him a water bottle and his protein shake for the gym.<br />
<br />
7:45- I usually eat something myself, because besides my job of being a parent, I also am on a mission to EAT EVERYTHING IN THE HOUSE and then cry at least daily about my jeans not fitting.<br />
While I'm devouring breakfast, I usually check the blog roll for my couponing fix. I also stalk all my friend/ex coworkers on facebook and secretly scowl in jealously about their posts about being on their way to work or what a long workday they have ahead of them.<br />
<br />
8:00- Seth leaves for work, I go back to bed. I should stay up and do productive stuff. I've secretly thought of trying one of those work at home programs where I would answer service phone calls about websites or something, because trust me, we could use the money. But knowing my kid, she would wake up right as I sign in. Because my kid can't sleep alone. She is like me. She is a cuddler and if she reaches out to pinch your neck and you aren't there CHAOS ENSUES. Usually before I get back in bed, I refill her milk and change a ginaormous pee pee diaper, because if I don't she usually pees out her diaper and then I have to change the sheets and lysol the mattress.<br />
<br />
10:30 or 11- By this time I've slept too much and feel like I need to sleep all day but of course the kid sits up and starts poking me and talking to me and torturing whatever cat has braved sleeping next to me. I have a sleep hangover headache but force myself up anyway. The last few days she has been getting up at 9 and 10 and I've been turning PBS on, handing her her milk and going back to sleep for an hour. When I get up the first thing I have to do is pee. Then I have to sit the kid on the toilet, because according to everyone who knows everything consistency is the key in potty training.<br />
She sits on the can with the radio on, her books, and a ottoman to prop her feet up (because the kiddie stools don't help with tiny legs) for about 20 minutes. I get dressed, wash out the milk container, pick out her clothes and a new diaper. I turn on the PBS in the living room for her because if I don't MELTDOWN ENSUES and usually a cat is harmed in the process. I open the screen door to give the cats the freedom they beg for and then stand there for a minute longingly looking out the door envying their sojourn in the grass.<br />
Then I hear "MA!? MAAAAAA!!!" signalling to me that Evelynn is ready to get off the can. I take her off and wipe everything down and pray that she hasn't reached something and tossed it in between her legs. I put the toilet paper back on the holder since Evelynn really really likes wiping her lady bits and will use a whole roll to do so. By this time Evie reminded me that she gets to brush her teeth in the morning aka suck toothpaste of her toothbrush and mimic brushing her teeth when I scold her.<br />
Then we go into living room and I change her diaper and clothes. And try not to get in the way of her cartoons. Lest I get screeched at. Then I go to start lunch. <br />
<br />
12:00 - I used to make Evelynn her own special lunch. Healthy and wonderful and loving and all I'm a good mom-ish. Evelynn never ate it. I would eventually give up and chalk it up to "she isn't hungry and is just going to graze like the doctor said" and make my own lunch, sit down and commandeer the TV. Here comes Evelynn with her mouth wide open and her little hand signing please like she is dying of starvation. *sigh*<br />
I feed her most if not all of my lunch and go into the kitchen to clean up and start my electric kettle for my fourth pot of hot tea. <br />
Evelynn has also consumed most of my hot tea. No matter how much I admonish her that it is "Hot" or that it is "Mommy's". She will put her little mouth over my giant mug and huff into the cup repeatedly and slurp it down. Back off and exclaim "OW" and then go back for more. Once she ran off and came back with a straw. God know where she got it or how long it had been in said secret place or what it was used for previously or how much mold may have accumulated on the inside of the straw.<br />
<br />
1:00- At this point in the day I realize I have forgotten some vital part of my personal routine. I have forgotten to wash my face, brush my teeth, or most days, put on pants. Hopefully I haven't learned of this misstep because I went out to the mailbox and the workmen across the street trying to save the roof of the house they screwed up but only work on one day a week stared at me in abject horror. But most days, that's when I found out.<br />
<br />
The rest of our day is up in the air. Some days, blessed days we have playdates or cooking dates with other moms. But those are getting few and far between since the truck broke down and my husband can't be bothered to fix it. Also since my kid started biting other kids and drawing enough blood that it requires the first aid kid.<br />
Most days I make a mental list of all the things a good stay at home mom/wife would do like clean the house or make a structured school day to teach my toddler everything she needs to blow the other kids out of the water at preschool and then I lay on the couch and watch PBS cartoons or Little Einsteins or Garfield. And cuddle under the duvet with the kid. Checking my phone and stalking my friends on facebook and admonishing them mentally for not being more interesting and posting as much as I do in a day. I post random thoughts and get myself blocked from about 99% of my friends news feeds.<br />
Sometimes I get a wild hair and work on the 1000 embroidery or crotchet projects I have started as Christmas presents and am no where near finishing.<br />
I check the blog roll and do some couponing. <br />
I count the seconds until Seth comes home, but there is never a definite on that so I count the seconds until the real world gets off work and I can start bugging them.<br />
I send about 400 emails and texts from my phone. Usually of the kid doing cute things. <br />
At some point in the day, if the weather is nice, we take the wagon to the park and Evelynn plays and eats rocks and I try to read a book. Sometimes we take a full walk and sometimes I go to the backyard and work in the garden or pick up rotten apples.<br />
I've usually spent a good portion of the day yelling at Evelynn for doing something horrible and thrown her in time out. Then spent 10 minutes cuddling and explaining to Evelynn why she can't bite/throw things at peoples heads/dump snacks on the floor/spit apple juice at me/hit me/lay on the cats/mess with my phone or the laptop/pinch my neck/mess with the remote/eat cat food/eat cat poop/rip pages out of books/eat foam/hang from the oven door/draw on herself with a pen/use scissors to cut holes in her sweatpants.<br />
There is also the drama of various personal maintenance chores for Evelynn. Cutting fingernails or toenails is an almost daily task since I can only hold her down for so long before her screams of holy terror cause the neighbors to come by to make sure I am not covering her little body up in the bathtub with cat litter. That is usually the length of one hand. Then there is brushing her hair and trying to keep it out of her eyes or keeping her from ripping out the barrettes or ponytail holders I spent hours wrestling her down and putting in her hair in an attempt to make her look like she didn't just get let out of the closet for the first time in a month.<br />
We've also spent at least 50% of the day in the bathroom coaxing out poops or pees following the complicated routine of setting her up in the bathroom (radio on, books and laptop, moving the toilet paper out of reach, moving anything that she can fit between her legs out of reach, move the shower curtain out of reach, plop her on the toilet, sing the song, and walk away because she doesn't like you to watch, then walk by the door pretending to look busy and making sure she hasn't thrown anything in the toilet or gotten off because sometimes if you leave her too long she gets off and then wipes her ass on the seat and the floor and the ottoman-FUN).<br />
I also spend a good portion of the day changing her clothes after she rubs food or spills on them, finding and putting back on her socks, chasing her around to wipe her face off and ultimately failing while she uses my shirt or the couch or a cat as a napkin instead.<br />
Seth usually calls around 7 to tell me he is on his way home. Some days his brother shows up and takes her for an hour and then mows the lawn. Some days my parents rescue me, I mean her. Some days, when I have a vehicle I get to go shopping with her or to my folks to let her run around and destroy her house.<br />
But on the days that we can't escape and Seth is on his way home I spend that 25 minutes (because he drives slower than a drunk blind man driving) running around picking up the house and trying vainly to make it look like I didn't spend most of the day laying on the couch in defeat or chasing around the kid screaming at it, or hiding behind the laptop listening to pitbull and forcing our kid to perform for the camera. Or that I spent half the day scheming on how to go back to work.<br />
Usually he walks in the door and Evelynn runs up to hug him and I'm free to start dinner or do whatever it is that I need to do to detox my brain from mom mode, usually watch Anderson and Ellen. We eat dinner, play around, talk about our days, sometimes we go for a walk. <br />
At 9 we alternate on who gets to do Evelynn's bed time routine. She gets a long bath and someone gets to wrestle a diaper and pj's on her and lotion her down and brush her hair. Then she gets to watch Sesame Street on Netflix in the bedroom by herself and Seth and I spend that hour watching our own shows. Lucky days she falls asleep on her own, but usually after one Sesame Street one of us has to go in there and lay down with her until she falls alseep. Usually that is Seth while I take a bath.<br />
I spend the next few hours, because Seth is usually asleep too, reading my kindle, playing scrabble, eating food in the kitchen, trying to turn my brain off. <br />
<br />
So that is what "Up All Night" should be about. The hilarious moments where you are chasing a naked kid out into you backyard while the neighbors sit on there deck and smoke cigarettes. <br />
I know it sounds like a lot of complaining, but you know what makes it worth it? When your kid says something you have been trying to teach them for months, or when she smiles at you for no reason, or runs up to hug you and give you a kiss, or laughs at you when you are at that moment between utter defeat or hysterical laughter, or when she is sleeping at the end of the night, clearly exhausted, and cuddles up to you and sighs a sigh of perfect content. Those are the moments that make being a new stay at home mom completely worth it and they cancel out all those other moments where you thing to yourself "WHAT WAS I THINKING NOT WORKING??"<br />
<br />
Love (being a stay at home mom),<br />
CarrieCarriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13202272621543605535noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225217832623654218.post-32695412232765453772011-07-19T01:42:00.001-05:002011-07-19T01:48:57.654-05:00With each new day comes new strengths and new thoughts.<div><p>I think I might be ready to write this post...Maybe.  Well at least I'm ready to say it out loud to the internets.  Last month, I lost a baby.  Here are the facts, because for some reason its easier to start with the facts...<br>
We were about 12 weeks along when we found out.  We went in for our twelve week check up and our first ultrasound and they could not find a heartbeat.  When they went in for the ultrasound they saw a sac of blood under the placenta, indicating that my body was already breaking down and preparing to abort the baby.  Our doctor (who throughout this I will saw was fantastic, as we knew she would be after our first pregnancy with Evelynn.) thought the baby died, based on its measurements, sometime around seven or eight weeks.<br>
At first, right after they told us, I laughed and made inappropriate jokes.  I kept telling them it was ok.  That I knew something wasn't right. <br>
At that moment, all I wanted was to crawl in a hole and die.  All I could think about was having to tell all the people I promised Seth I wouldn't tell that I did tell that my baby was dead.    <br>
I have to sidebar here-<br>
I struggled greatly with writing this post.  One of the hardest parts of losing a baby during pregnancy, especially early pregnancy, is that no one talks about it.  No one brings it up, no one asks how you are doing, no one but you seems to mourn your baby the same way you do.  <br>
Also because I wanted to share and hopefully connect with other people my age who this might have happened to.  It seems like the only people who talk about having miscarriages are people who had them 20 years ago.  Making it hard for me to connect.  I also have trouble connecting because the way we "evacuated the fetus" is by a new pill/at home method called cytotec, where most people opt for the D&C.  There were too many risks associated with that procedure for me.  So when I read blogs or talk to people they had the d&c and we did the at home pill, its hard for me to connect.<br>
So that's why I've come out.  Today I read that miscarriage is called "the silent sorrow" and I find that to be a very accurate statement.  But I don't want to be silent anymore.  <br>
I also read that a good way to combat the post partum depression is to journal and since this my journal I will try to write here.<br>
So that's where I'm at emotionally. Some days are good but I'm still having more bad than good.  Mostly its the nights that are the hardest, when the world gets quiet and there is no busy work or handful one year olds to occupy your mind.  And there is rarely anyone to talk to when your brain runs away with you into the irrational.<br>
So that's all I can muster to ramble.  I hope later I can write more cohesive thoughts that can actually help people!</p>
<p>Love (getting it out there),<br>
Carrie </p>
</div>Carriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13202272621543605535noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225217832623654218.post-68140649909649224242011-04-08T16:13:00.000-05:002011-04-08T16:13:10.392-05:00A colt is worth little if it does not break its halter.So my kid is a bully. And she is bossy. We had a play date this week where my kid ate dirt, fish hooked a little boy and pulled him around, stole toys, climbed into other Mom's laps when they were trying to interact with their kids and got in their faces. She ate dirt out of the plants around the house, destroyed beautiful picture displays, and made EVERY SINGLE KID AT THE PLAY DATE CRY.<br />
Luckily, I was there with my good, patient, understanding (PLEASE STILL HANG OUT WITH US!!!) Mom friends <a href="http://mrsrizzer.blogspot.com/">Jen </a>and <a href="http://daily-sips.blogspot.com/">Kelley </a>and their intelligent, tolerant, beautiful (NO REALLY, PLEASE!!! DON'T LEAVE ME ALONE WITH HER!) kids. I linked their blogs so you can what a good mother looks like.<br />
Honestly, I don't know what to do. I'm 1/3 of the way thru the discipline book Jen lent me. But all signs point to, you can't really discipline a one year old. Which means- no more eating out for the Hellbusch's.<br />
We went to IHOP last week and Evelynn spilled syrup, a glass of water, was generally loud, screechy, and obnoxious. She kept "giving" the people in the booth packets of sugar. They asked to be moved. We were so embarrassed. Seth just kept his head down and shoveled food in his mouth while I spent the meal apologizing, shushing, unsticking things, swatting things out of her reach, and generally cursing Seth for saddling me with this kid.<br />
But I still love him. And her. I just am going to be getting a lot of take out the next few years.<br />
Speaking of my terrible child, I just caught her putting her socks in the toilet. I'd better go fish them out.<br />
Hope you all have a great weekend!!<br />
<br />
Love (my terrible child),<br />
CarrieCarriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13202272621543605535noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-225217832623654218.post-51466260626406286842011-03-29T14:13:00.000-05:002011-03-29T14:13:47.426-05:00I don't understand why Cupid was chosen to represent Valentine's Day. When I think about romance, the last thing on my mind is a short, chubby toddler coming at me with a weapon.Romance. Its a topic that has been on my mind a bit this week, since I had a conversation with a friend last week.<br />
I was doing my normal bitching about the rigors of co-sleeping and the four hundred dollar crib now toddler bed that my daughter thinks is a place to play, and not to sleep. The bitching I normal don't do in public or on social media because let's face it, its my own damn fault. I'm the one with attachment/sleeping issues which I lovingly project onto my daughter. Anyway after my usual diatribe of "foot in my face", "humane butane heater", and "bed hog" my dear friend said "I'm cool with the co-sleeping thing and I get it, but what about the romance?" I quickly jumped in- "Oh there is romance, there is plenty of romancing...here *points* and over there *points* and sometimes *points* back in there." and then we laughed.<br />
But it got me thinking later, what about the romance?<br />
After much back in forth in my head, I've come to this conclusion. At least in my relationship, when we had a baby, the romance changed. And not for the worse, like you might be thinking. It changed in the way I viewed my husband. No longer do lusty glances, secret squeezes, sweet nothings, surprise dinners, or thoughtful gifts trip my trigger anymore. (Although, let's not get hasty here, they don't hurt) But now seeing my husband be a dad gets me more romance than I can deal with some days. Watching Seth chase Evelynn around the house, listen to all of her baby babble like she is telling him the greatest story he ever heard, feeding her lunch, carrying her around the store, watching her fall asleep on his shoulder as he sways back in forth to the song that he is humming- that is my new romance. <br />
Which is lame, I know, maybe it is another new thing about motherhood I'm learning about and is changing me, for the better.<br />
Like the new fact that I someone who LIVES for winter and snow and bad weather, am praying the weather gets warmer so I can take my kid outside and run her until she collapses in her new toddler bed from exhaustion.<br />
<br />
Love (the new romance),<br />
CarrieCarriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13202272621543605535noreply@blogger.com0