my life recently has been:

baby showers, baby pictures, baby-to-be announcements, baby well child appointments at work, baby shopping, baby gossiping, answering the baby question that I detest, baby carrots for lunch, more baby talk from friends, more baby shopping, looking at baby-belly pictures on facebook, helping pick out middle name for friends baby, more baby shopping, baby corn in my salad, guess who's having a baby gossip...

sign from God or biological clock refusing to be snoozed?

I have been absent from blogging. I'd like to say I've been overwhelmingly busy and doing all different varieties of awesomeness, but no... I've just been doing the same old same. But, I did make homemade cinnamon bread. Like for real homemade bread, with the yeast and the rising and the goopy goop on my hands that I typically detest. I felt like Laura Ingalls Wilder or at least like Melissa Gilbert before her battle with drugs and alcohol & plastic surgery. Anyway, it was so nice to create something that tasted good and made my house smell like Panera! And when it was done, I exclaimed with glee: I DID IT!!
We had a slice for breakfast. With our coffee. And a couple of slices of turkey bacon (and the pup had bacon, too, because even though she bites and barks nonstop at things that we can't even see, she's a good dog). I'm on a roll with my baking/cooking/pretending to be a good little kitchen witch.
I enjoy busying myself in the kitchen. And I adore watching the man that I love taste-test my cooking. It makes me feel like a good wifey to be able to prepare something tasty for my hubby.

kiss the cook!

It's been a little while since my last blog. (haha, sounds like I'm preparing for confession!)

Since my last blog, I've started a new tradition of making something homemade every Sunday. Trying to be more homemakery.

The first Sunday I started was after my last blog (7/25), and I made Pork Chops with peach salsa (SO YUMMY and I'll DEFINITELY make it again). My husband went back for seconds BEFORE I even got half way threw my dinner. We ate on the front porch, at our little table. With good conversation and a good glass of wine. Happiness! The hubs kept saying "this is like something we'd order at a restaurant! it's so good baby!!"
Since then, I've made: French toast (on 8/1); Ham and Cheese Omelets (8/8); Turkey Chimichangas (8/12; not a Sunday); homemade Pumpkin chocolate chip muffins (8/15, YUM); Homemade mac & cheese (8/18; not a Sunday); and homemade Strawberry Muffins with homemade Strawberry Butter (8/22).

I think my hubby is liking my new little tradition. And surprisingly enough, I LOVE it. I love chopping, mixing, measuring... I really like being in the kitchen. I've been doing all of my thinking in the kitchen lately. And I've had a lot to think about.

what's cookin'?

I'm never going to be the type of girl who makes homemade jam in my kitchen on a Saturday afternoon. I'm just not.

I am the kind of girl who loves to bake cakes and treats. I love filling up the bellies of my loved ones, but I think that perhaps, I'm not the best "homemaker".

Sometimes I wonder if I'm doing my husband an injustice. I stick with what I know (what I know that he likes). I don't venture too far off of my path.
But I wonder if I should? Maybe venture a little.
I want something new in my life, something exciting, something I can say, "see? see what I did?"

for now, I'll leave my jams to Smucker's. They've been doing it for so long now (since the 1800's!!), and they're good at it. Really good at it. Who doesn't love a PB&J with Smucker's? And plus, I hate when my kitchen has sticky stuff on the counter, and I'm willing to bet that if I were making homemade jam, there would be sticky stuff on the counter, me, and possibly even the pup.

I'm going to surprise myself (and maybe even you?) this weekend. I'm going to make something really good for my hubs. I don't know yet what it will be. But I'm going to do something I wouldn't normally do. I'm going to make myself into a little Susie Homemaker this weekend.


Note the look of confusion on her sweet little face.... I'm betting I will have the same bewildered look plastered across my face. You wanna know what she's thinking? She's probably thinking, "hmmm, should we just order Chinese?"

a period of waiting; pause, interval, or delay.

I'm not trying to conceive anymore.
I've decided to just wait, not quit, just wait.

Wait until we can say that we've celebrated our 5 year wedding anniversary.
Wait until my body works itself out
Wait until I've lost more weight (I'm down 17 lbs so far)
Wait until I have a stamp in my passport that says: Germany
Wait until my bank account is pregnant
Wait until my sister moves back to the states
Wait until all the babies that I know are all grown up
Wait until I'm so tired of waiting that I grow old and am unable to have any babies at all

I feel like I'm standing in a very long line waiting for my number to be called, but I'm in the wrong line, with the wrong ticket, in the wrong building, at the wrong time...

so, for now, we will wait. I will not take medications. So, this is where I am. I'm going to finish out 2010 with out urinating on anymore EPTs. I'm just going to enjoy my 4th year of marriage to a man who shows up at my work in the middle of a summer storm, in a white button down shirt and khaki pants, soaking wet, holding an umbrella so that I won't have to get soaked when I walk to my car. The man who surprises me with white and red roses, just because. The man who took me to see Eclipse TWICE and didn't mind that I drooled over Edward. The man who lets me cry in the crook of his arm because I miss my sister. The man who swears that every single meal I cook is "the best" he's ever had.
I don't think that a baby is "missing" from my life... a baby is just waiting.

questioning the ultimate question.

I'm sad to say, I feel that I've lost my way. I use to be so certain about faith, God, my spirituality. Unfortunately, somewhere along the line, I feel that it got too foggy. I am not so sure of faith, of life, of anything really. There are things that I feel sure about, like love. but, faith? Hope? I find it so much easier to have hope and faith for others. But not myself.
here was my "message from God" on Facebook today:

On this day God wants you to know...

... that when the night feels very long, remember that a new day is just around the bend. With each new day we are given new hope, new possibilities, new opportunities. Each new day is a miracle.

hmmm....

food for thought, no?

Don't read this if you don't want to read a woman rant and be bitter.

I had my appointment with the Endo yesterday. It had been over six months since I'd seen him last. I had left his off that day (in November) SO optimistic. He had felt so strongly, and had made me feel so certain, that I could get pregnant on my own (with out medication), and BY my next appointment. I was on cloud 9 when I left his office that day. Smiley. Friendly. Excited. He said I could cancel my follow up with him if I was pregnant. And I really felt like I would cancel that appointment. As the date approached and as I sat in the lab to have my blood drawn, I knew, I'm not going to be able to cancel this appointment. I already knew what the blood work would show, elevated testosterone, etc... I knew, and yet that little tiny part of me held on to the shred of hope that I was wrong. Maybe I really had tricked my body taking the birth control for so long. Maybe, JUST MAYBE, the time on the pill had made my body decide that it wanted to have more estrogen and less testosterone. Maybe I was CURED!

Nope.

Not even close. My testosterone level was not only elevated, it was DOUBLED; higher than it was pre-Yasmin. He said that I needed to think about seeing someone at a fertility clinic (as he does not prescribe the medication I will need). He said he would like to start me on a medication for insulin resistance (or whatever it is exactly), though not a medication that will aid ovulation (again, since he does not prescribe that).

So, this is where I am in my baby race. Apparently I'm not even in the race. Apparently, I'm sitting back, with my feet kicked up, watching everybody else race.

Apparently my ovaries belong in special Ed. They're too busy not doing anything to be bothered by making a family.

I'm sure my cousin who just gave birth will get knocked up again before me, hell, I'm sure her daughter will get knocked up before I do.

I don't remember that from sex ed class!

I just watched the documentary The Business of Being Born.

I was sobbing at the end, from the beauty of it, from the amazing blessing given to those women, and from my own indescribable ache.

My longing is suffocating. My desire is monumental. My ache is deep and vicious.

I recommend seeing the movie, even if you are dead set against home births, it's still a VERY interesting movie. With a lot of valuable information.

Not that I am any where close to delivering a baby (considering that first one must actually be able to get pregnant), but I've been thinking that I like the idea of midwifery. I don't want to be given pitocin or an epidrual. I don't want to be attached to an IV and unable to move. I don't know if I want to give birth laying down with my legs in stirrups. Of course I'm also not saying that I want to deliver a baby in my sleep number bed, either.
I need to get pregnant first, before I start coming up with a birth plan, I suppose.

proceed with caution...

I've always thought that there is a child out there who needs a loving home. A place to go to. A tree to sit under at Christmas. A man to walk them down the aisle one day, and a woman to sit in the front pew, teary, while she watches that child move forward in life. I've always considered adoption. Not because I NEED a child, but because a child may need me. I've always thought of myself as someone who could open my heart, my home, my life to anyone...
It's never been an "if we can't have a baby naturally" kind of concept. Having a baby naturally, or not, I've always thought that adoption IS an option.
My husband has 2 adopted sisters and an adopted brother. Except, you would never know (or care) that they were adopted. They are family, siblings--regardless of how they were "born" into the family. So, for my husband, adoption is a huge option too...

that is, until Saturday night, when I stumbled on a blog that completely and utterly changed my perspective, and not for the better. I found this blog, and began to DEVOUR it. Not because it was comforting to me and not because it was interesting, but because it upset me so much that I could not stop reading it. Like a car accident on the hwy, I slowed down to look. and the jury is still out on whether that was a good idea or not. Suffice it to say, I spent the mass majority of my Sunday crying to the hubs and then to my mother-in-law (who I swear has ALL of the answers to every question I throw at her. I'm lucky to have her).

I know blogs are just one person's opinion, but even so... what if every child feels the way that woman does? What if every child really "does not want to be adopted" like I've read in some of these blogs? What if I open my heart up to a child, only to have them decided later that I've just been a "substitute" a "babysitter"?

One of the parts that I keep reading over and over, and repeating in my head, is something I read in a comment that someone had posted on one of her blogs:

"I can not beleive the rage and immaturity that comes from women who can't get pregnant. God! GET OVER IT!! Get a puupy! Being infertile makes all of you mentally ill you know that. You also act like a bunch of brats, DEMANDING a baby when you want one, especially christians who can't have their own kids. Who are any of you to NOT wait even 20 years if that is god's will and plan for you to have your own child? None of you do. You'd rather have some vulnerable young mother talked into giving HER baby to you and say it's god's will."

Ouch! That stings.

I don't pretend to know what it feels like to be adopted, or what it feels like to have given a child up for adoption, but I do know what it feels like to be a "mentally ill, demanding, infertile". I don't want to sit a adoptee down and tell them how they feel/how they should feel. I'm not going to call them brats for not being happy/grateful to have a loving family. So, why do they feel that they can call Infertiles "brats", "demanding", "mentally ill"?? And GET A PUPPY?? really?? I love my dog. She makes me laugh. She is possibly the best snuggler in the house.... she is not a baby. She does not fill that void in my heart/soul for a child. That's like telling someone with a severed artery to put a Hello Kitty band aid on it. That's not exactly going to fix the situation.

I know that we all have hurts in our lives. Some have huge hurts (domestic violence victims; returning soldiers suffering from PTSD, people who have witness death of a loved one, miscarriages, endless negative pregnancy tests, feeling of abandonment from your parents putting you up for adoption, fires, floods, Mother Nature's rage, breakups, divorces, overdrawn bank accounts, failed tests, etc). I would never sit down with that returning solider and tell him that he is being a brat for not being able to "get over it". Or telling a victim from 9-11 to "get over it", or a woman who just miscarried after her year long struggle with infertility to "get over it".

Are we all so self righteous that we have to feel that our hurt is THE WORST. That nobody else can hurt as much as we can because we have A, B, C, and D wrong with us?

Maybe the reason I can't shake this woman's blog, the reason it has affected me so much is because I (as a DEMANDING infertile) feel personally attacked. And may I ask, what exactly is so wrong with demanding what you want?

I don't like the idea of anyone hurting, for whatever their reasons may be. I don't take joy in others pain. I do not wish ill will on anyone. I think we all have crosses to bear.

And you know what? If you really think about, an infertile and a hurt adoptee are pretty much the same. We are both longing for someone that we do not know, and may never know.

I would like to say that writing this blog will get my mind off of this topic. That after I click the "publish post" button, all will go back to my previous state of mind. But, unfortunately, my perspective has been changed. And I'm afraid that I will dwell on this longer than I should.

every stranger's face I see, reminds me that I long to be....

My nephew graduated high school this past weekend. So, the hubs and I packed up the Rover and navigated our way to Georgia; home of peaches, pecans, the Zac Brown band, Third Day, the coco-cola company, Gone With the Wind, the Big Chicken, Paula Dean, River Street, the world's largest aquarium, Stone Mountain, the Varsity, the Falcons, MLK, Delta, the AJC, and all of my loved ones.

the hardest part of going back home, is feeling like a stranger on the streets where you grew up. It's funny how everything looks different, but feels like your favorite old sweater, that still fits you perfectly despite the 15 lbs you've added on since you saw it last. ahhhh.... home.

I never feel like I have enough time. Like it's slipping through my fingers, quicker than sand, and with less impact. I can't stop time and cling tight to my loved ones, and it worries me. My dad looked ages older, and it scared me. In the back of my mind, is that voice, saying what I don't want to type, what I don't want to think about, but what I know to be true. We are fragile. We are a wave in the ocean. I'm reminded that I live too far away.

I couldn't soak up enough southern accent, southern hospitality, southern charm, and dear lord the southern cookin'. I miss the south. I adore my blue ridge mountains. I miss the comfort of seeing an old friend in the grocery store, grabbing lunch with my girlies, snuggling next to my momma, real sweet tea, hearing "y'all" and "lordy"...

I tried not to cry as we drove down my parents driveway on Sunday morning. I kept my arm out the window, waving long past the point where they couldn't see me anymore. I promised myself I would be a "big girl" and not sob like I normally do. The hubs knows (after four years) not to say anything right away, he just reaches for my hand and drives. I hate the drive back. It's too long and depressing; and every time I say "next time we're going to fly". But I couldn't bare to put my Chloe in cargo (she is, after all, the only baby I have).

Today, I was driving to work feeling rushed because I showered longer than I should have, and my hair was still damp and starting to get wavy from the quick blow dry I gave it. I was, to be honest, exceeding the limit pretty significantly and listening to the new Sex in the City soundtrack, when I came up on a long line of traffic in the right lane. The left lane was moving pretty steady, so I got over. It wasn't until I made it to the end of the line of traffic to my right, that I noticed a hearse. The long line of traffic was a funeral procession. And here I was, blaring I Am Woman (sung by the fab girls of SATC), crusin' past a funeral. I wanted to cry.

In the south, everybody pulls over for a funeral. I've seen colossal sized bikers get off of their motorcycles and remove their helmets to show respect for the deceased and I've seen police officers salute the hearse (at my own Poppi's funeral). I've seen people pull to the side of the road my entire life... and then I moved here. People here keep going on about their business, like they can't be bothered to show a little respect...Because they don't have time, because it does not fit into their schedule, or because it does not revolve around them enough. And I was keeping right up with them. I was driving right past with out so much as a tap on the break; singing I am Woman hear me roar.

I am ashamed.

Oh lord, please don't let me lose my roots. Please, please keep me a southern girl, who has manners, shows respect, and sips sweet tea.

am I losing me?

it's okay.

I'm not going to be sad that tomorrow is Mother's Day and I'm babyless. Instead, I'm gong to celebrate that I have:
a husband that makes me feel full and complete; a pup that loves to snuggle and lets me hold her like a newborn baby; a house that is truly home; a car with a full tank of gas; and Breyers Triple Chocolate ice cream in my freezer.

I've still been blessed.

Our Snuggly Family
May 7, 2010

Looking out my bay window...

It's bright and sunny out and I just watched my neighbor (a daddy) walk down the street to pick up his little girl from the school bus. They walked back together, holding hands. She was double stepping to keep up with him (and his strides were slow), talking a mile a minute. I want that for my husband.

like sands through the hour glass, or something like that....

My days mumble and jumble together, fast, before I have time to blink or click the shutter button on the camera. Was it really that long ago that I sat down and wrote a blog, or was it yesterday? I can't remember. I feel out of my norm, for no clear reason. I still hit the snooze in the am, have my shower, and drink my coffee while watching the local news.... I still drive to work, clock in, sign on, and plaster a fake smile to my face.... I still come home, shed the shoes, pull my hair up, and play with my pup.... I still do everything as I have, and yet, I feel like everything is out of whack. I feel like I'm spinning uncontrollably, with no clear destination. I feel like time is flying by me too quickly, before I have a chance to really stop and see it. I feel like we're moving too fast. I want to stop sometimes, right in the middle, stop and just take it all in. I want to hold tight to my husband's hand and keep us right here.
I feel like I haven't talked to my mom in ages. Not just the "how are yous", but the real conversations. The ones that leave me feeling full and content. The ones that make my sides hurt from laughing. The ones that make me remember just how lucky I really am to be connected to such a beautiful being. I miss her with a fierce intensity. I'm truly lonely for her. I hate that I can't just hop in my car and drive over to see her. I hate that I have to pack to visit my mom. I hate living so far away.
I'm feeling disconnected.

is that you Jakob Ammann?

I'm addicted to reading blogs from people who have children. I love to sneak into their lives and read what goes on in their worlds. I get absorbed in their stories, pictures, and all the quotable quotes from their little ones. I sit back on the sofa, lap top in my lap, and get sucked in. An hour will pass in seconds. I'll look up and realize that an entire sitcom has played out on the TV, and I never even heard the canned laughter. I get so fully immersed.
I can't help wondering what kind of stories I'll have when I'm a mommy. What kind of darndest things will my rug rats come up with?
(speaking of darndest things: This video still cracks me up, check it out, you won't be sorry)

I can't wait until my blog revolves around play dates, well child appointments, and all the adventures of first time parents. But, for now, I'll just continue writing about my day to day, sans baby.

-------

while watching my horrible local news station (it's an embarrassment, but I adore it), I found out something that I didn't know about Pennsylvania....

{drum roll please} there is a town in PA named Intercourse.

At first I didn't believed I'd heard them right. Could she really have said that or was it a Freudian slip? So, of course I hopped online (where all the answers are,right?) and googled it.
Yes, Virginia, there is an Intercourse PA!
Not only does it have a rockin' awesome name, it is also in Amish Country! (back story, I've always been intrigued, possibly bordering on obsessed, by the Amish). So, I immediately grab the phone and dial my sister. It was a wake up call for her (lucky dog gets to sleep in longer than me) but I like think that it was the BEST wake up call she's gotten in a while.
So.... this past weekend we went to Intercourse. Of course, the whole way we came up with picture captions for the Welcome to Intercourse sign:

• On the first date
• it's so good, I got a UTI
• we came all the way, and didn't bring a condom
• thanks for coming
  

you get the idea. We giggled the whole way to Intercourse (hee hee).
As we entered town we squealed with excitement, HORSE POOP on the side of the road, buggies, men with long beards, and really beautiful farm land. I can't help but wonder if the Amish are aware of the name of their town? How can they go about their daily chores while all of us common folks pose by their welcome sign and make provocative gestures? (because we did)

We bought "Greetings from Intercourse" post cards, a pot holder that says "I love Intercourse", and some Amish treats. Fun was had by all. And well, yeah... I will come again. :)

Who knew you could have so much fun with a tank of gas and a town with a dirty name?

for more info on the Amish culture, and who exactly Jakob Amman is, read it here. Two photos courtesy of my darling sister, Amber Suman.

PCOS invades my dreams...

I can't even get through one day (or night) with out being reminded that I'm with out a child.
Seems like all of my worse "I need a baby" moments are greeted with newborn well child appointments at work. When I'm aching to be expecting, I see hundreds of baby-bellies at the grocery store. When I've just peed on a negative EPT, my friend announces her pregnancy on facebook. When I feel like it will NEVER happen for me, my cousin posts a link to her registry online, a snap shot of the ultrasound, and a list of could-be names.

I had a dream last night that I started developing a full beard. In the dream I said "I knew this would happen when I went off of the birth control". My sister was in the dream, and she said "you're just going to have to shave it off". I woke up freaking out that I'm going to grow a beard.

I know it's an irrational fear....
but... Oh god. What if I grow a beard? I've seen women with lots of facial fur. I've seen them with serious sideburns, thick mustaches, etc. I don't want want to have male-pattern hair growth. I don't to have PCOS anymore.

Why can't I be normal?

Fat weekend...

I spent the weekend with my sister, having what we deemed a "Fat Weekend". It started after I got off work on Friday. I went over to her house right after work, bringing a free bag of Asian Salad mix for dinner. I battled Friday evening traffic and belted out this song all the way to Columbia. After unloading my belongings (including New Moon), we headed over to the Commissary to get "something sweet". What started innocently, ended with enough junk food to provide us for the whole weekend... cookies, chips, the most delicious peanut butter cake, pop tarts...
We had pizza and chips for dinner (healthy, I know) and the peanut butter cake for dessert. We howled out loud at Dane Cook. Check out a clip of it here. We fell asleep to the Golden Girls.
Saturday we drank endless amounts of coffee, had Dunkin Donuts for breakfast, and spent the day shopping. I love shopping with my sister. I love the hidden treasure we find at Goodwill. The hideous Days of Our Life's wedding gowns we pretend to swoon over at the Salvation Army. Trying out all of the furniture/supplies at Ikea. Writing SERIOUSLY rude things on a printed out baby registry at Target (really, its DISGUSTING to register for a breast pump. That's like registering for pads. Buy your own, people).
We ate massive amounts of junk, guzzled sodas, watched New Moon (swoon, I love Edward).

Sunday, I woke up to a gloomy day (over cast and cold). I had to load my stuff up in the Rover, including the Asian Salad, that we didn't eat and go back home. Where laundry waited. And trash needed to be gathered for pick-up in the morning.

Our fat weekend did NOT included adult beverages, however I'm feelin' a bit hung over today. Too much junk food. I MUST be good this week. I must eat my veggies and avoid sodas. Thank God I wear scrubs at work, I'm certain I've gained 10 lbs this weekend.

my blog about nothing, really...

I see new green everywhere I look. The grass is starting to get that perfect new green look, there are baby buds on all the trees, the forsythia in my front yard is starting to bloom... even my mood is budding/blooming. I'm happy spring is here.
I got a sunburn this weekend. I know it's not a good thing (and as summer arrives, I will go back to my SPF 30), but this winter was so cold and so sad that I NEEDED a sun burn. I needed to feel the sun kiss my shoulders and turn them different shades of pink. I needed to stand right in the middle of my drive way, squint up at the sky, and have the sun beat down on me. I've spent too long indoors, too long under covers, too long feeling blue. Now I feel green. A good happy green.

My sister spent the night with us this past Saturday, as we try to get in as much "face time" as we can before the movers take her away to Germany. We made homemade pizzas and strawberry shortcake, drank a bit too much mango margs, and had laugh-a-thons.

happiness is.......

yes, folks, New Moon is out on DVD!! woo hoo... paired with my Tim Tam cookies, I'm set! Sorry honey, we'll have to postpone baby making tomorrow night, I've got to have my chocolate and my vampire! Life is good. :)

I called the hubs from the Weis Supermarket when I saw the display. I was oblivious to the other shoppers. I squealed, "GUESS WHAT WEIS HAS??!!??NewMOOOOOON!!!!!!" (I know, I didn't give him a chance to guess. I'm still partly 12 years old). He said, "I thought today was the 18th, it doesn't come out until the 20th" (I love him for enabling my obsessions). With his approval (or maybe his blessing?), I happily added the dvd to my cart, right next to the organic cherry tomatoes, buy one get one free strawberries, mushrooms, bell pepper, bananas and coffee creamer.
As I was making my way to the check-out, I heard the yummy cookies calling my name, "add me to your hips...add me to your hips....add me to your hips, please". I mean, c'mon... it said please. So, I put the Tim Tams in my cart too. Besides, doesn't the fresh fruit sort of cancel out the two layers of chocolate malted biscuit, separated by a light chocolate cream filling, and coated in a thin layer of textured chocolate?
The best part of my day... not the dvd (though it is a HUGE happy part), not the cookies (even in their yummy goodness)... the best part of my day was coming home to the man I love. The man who lets me be obsessed with the Twilight series. The man who doesn't judge when I pull cookies out of the grocery bag. The man who likes to partake in baby making on a Thursday evening, while the oven preheats. I'm a lucky girl!

Erin Go Bragh!

I love spring. I love that people come out of hiding when days are warm. I adore that everybody loves to be out in the sun. My neighborhood was abuzz with all of my favorite sights/sounds; kids playing, dogs barking, people taking strolls... ahhh, the joy of warm weather. Even Chloe wanted to be outdoors longer. She ran all around the yard, pulled me down the street, jumped, circled around me, tangled me up in her leash, and tried to eat grass. Even pups love spring!

I left work today and drove home with the windows down, hair flying, singing my heart out. I was disappointed that McD's was sold out of Shamrock Shakes, but even that did not deter my good mood. Today I am happy.

rainy days...

Rainy days make me blue. I only want to curl up and sleep. My need for sunshine is tremendous.


My rainy Saturday was spent shopping at IKEA, where I purchased this adorable candle holder; which now sits on my kitchen table (and my sister was right, I should have gotten 2). I could have spent all day in there. I could have spent a lot more money (I got out of there with only spending $42.00, I'm kicking myself for not getting the other items I wanted). My sister and I played house, shot evil looks at all the preggos, and glared at the woman who told her husband (who looked like he really missed his scrotum) "I said NO." Fun was had by all, but in the back of my mind was a little ringing reminder that she'll be moving to Germany in a few short weeks, and my best friend/partner in crime/favorite shoppin' buddy will be too far away for a Saturday trip to IKEA. After we snacked on glorious cinnamon buns, I left her in Columbia, and drove back to PA in the rain, with Amos Lee singing me home.


I don't know if it's the gloom of the rain, the impending departure of my sister, or the time change, but I'm sad today, and sleepy, and in need of a big bear hug.


On the TTC front, I'm still with out a little lamb of my own. Still have an empty tummy. Still have a longing so intense that it physically hurts. Still walk past the baby section of the store and will myself to walk away. Still feel like the green eyed monster when I see a pregnant woman. Still spend most of my day dreaming of how I'm going to tell the hubs the good news when I get my positive.


My girl friend stopped over today, to drop off some candles I bought & to pick up the little Easter gift I had for her daughter. She pulled me aside and whispered her good news.... she's expecting.
I'm happy for her.
I'm thrilled for her.
I'm so excited for her.
I must repeat these words to myself, multiple times, eventually they'll be true. I told her "congratulations". When she pulled out of my driveway, I wanted to shout at the Lord, at the storks, or at whatever higher power is in control of baby-making... I've been forgotten.

the fifth of march

I don't want to go to work today. I want to stay here, with my cup of coffee, blanket, and sweater. I want to sit in my living room and listen to the silence, to the house making it's settling noises, to the heat kicking on, to the birds chipping their hellos, to the smacking sounds my pup makes when she swallows. Today I want to not put on "real clothes", skip on the make up, put my hair in a pony tail, and stay right here.

It's too loud when I get to work. Gossip is loud even in whispers. I can't listen to it today. The sun is up and happy, and I can't fool with listening to gossip. I don't really care who's kid did what last night, said this or that, etc. I just want my coffee, my silence, and a little bit of time to myself.

one more try...

I have sat down to write a blog multiple times over the past week. Each time, though, I've not been able to come up with anything to say, except, I'm still here. Still not pregnant. Still wishing I didn't have to pay bills, clean the house, fold laundry, or scoop poop.

weekends...

I love weekends. I love lounging in bed way past the Sun's wake up call. I love drinking coffee beside my husband (a real treat, since he leaves the house about an hour before I do in the mornings). I love not necessarily having to put on "real clothes" right away. I love chasing the pup all day. I love that the biggest decision to make is whether or not to make cinnamon rolls or hop in the car for a McDonald's breakfast. I love catching a movie in the middle of the afternoon.

This weekend we saw Percy Jackson & the Olympians: The Lightning Thief this weekend. It was a pretty good movie, so good that I decided to start the book, too.

Sunday nights are my least favorite part of the weekend. The dishes in the sink mock me. The pile of laundry that I neglected all weekend snarls at me. The stinky trash has to be taken to the curb and lunches need to made. The idea of having to go in to work tomorrow makes me want to put a stop to the ticking clock, snuggle up to the hubs, and avoid being an adult.

four fast years...

four years ago today, I stood beside the Atlantic Ocean and vowed my life to the only person I've ever felt truly at home with. I can still feel the butterflies, the sunshine, the excitement.



I can't believe it's been four years already--and I love him more x 4!! I am so lucky to still be holding the hands of my best friend (our hand ceremony).

I know why the caged bird sings...

So, we're trapped in the house again. We tasted freedom (it was sweet, like apple pie), and now here we are again. We had horrible winds all day, creating huge piles of snow. We didn't even attempt to shovel, and the plows never came through today. Have I mentioned that I hate winter?

So, nothing really fantastic or exciting to report on today. The hubs and I were able to do some much needed home repairs during the snow storm, and now I'm proud to say our guest bathroom is looking really great! A few more improvements (a new counter top/sink), and then it will be completed!
here are a few before and after pictures of the bathroom--

before:

after:

As you can tell, still need to fix the sink. But it's a work in progress. We'll be saving up some money to get that fixed, and will hopefully be able to replace it this spring....


that is, of course, if spring ever gets here. Until then, we'll keep watching and waiting for any sign of green grass or a flower, or a little blue bird to let us know that it's time to thaw out.

who was the fool that started romanticizing the notion of being snowed-in?

I detest winter.

I've asked myself (often out loud in a fit of rage while fighting a losing battle with the shovel), "why did we leave Georgia??!!??" In Georgia, the words "snow blower" are profanity, not something you should purchase at Lowe's to add to the rock salt, shovel, and plow that are now living peacefully next to your SUV. Unfortunately, my garage is short of both a plow and a snow blower. But not to worry, I can already envision yet another trip to Lowe's where we will spend entirely too much money (thus giving me another round of palpitations) on a snow blower, so we can join the masses of yankees.

all of our neighbors are old, and thus, they they take care of each other... as in: "oh, you were there for the black plague, too? Fantastic! Let's be friends, and I'll come over with my lovely snow plow and get your drive way ship shape in no time." And then we move in... and they say: "look at those young little whippersnappers, with their shovels. Fools. Let's pretend like we don't see them sweating in this cold while trying frantically to shovel these mounds of snow. ba-ha-ha-ha. Juveniles!"

What do you do when you are snowed in, and there does not appear to be an end in sight? Blog. Log massive amounts of time on Facebook. Nap. Eat junk foot. Cry, while remembering the heat and sunshine of lovely Savannah. Look out the window and cringe. Fret that you'll never ever see green grass again. Realize that the joke about milk and bread and toilet paper really isn't a joke after all. Pretend you really wanted to put on 4 layers of clothes to shift piles of snow around. Drink hot chocolate. Convince yourself that spring will never come. Eat more junk food. Make babies. Nap more. Pray that you'll survive and won't be forced to eat your spouse like that creepy movie.

‘Cause if the birds and the flowers survive then I’ll make it okay

peeing on sticks...

am I the only person in the world who isn't either a.) pregnant or b.) the mother to a rowdy bunch of ankle biters? Seems like every where I look somebody is rubbing their giant baby bump or nursing their little bundle of joy, or telling their adorable (and sticky) three year old to "choose your words".
Have you noticed, when you want something REALLY bad, everybody else already has it? While you're waiting, semi-patiently for your new prize to come out of lay-away, everyone else is parading it around? But my "prize" isn't even in lay-away, it's in that magical store that I don't have a club card for.
I have spent so much money for items I'm just going to pee on. Each one with a big fat negative. And when I see that dreadful negative, I want to throw the EPT across the bathroom, with all of my might... as if getting peed on wasn't the worse punishment for it.

the beginning

I have decided to start a blog, not so much because of all the interesting adventures in my life, but mainly because I have become addicted to reading other people's blogs, and have decided to put my own thoughts/stories/etc on to "paper".

So this is my 2010, so far:
learned to play the game Mexican Train, which is too much fun
discovered that I suck at bowling (with a HUGE score of 59)
found (by luck) a wonderful thrift store, which lead me to a new DIY project
sanded and prepared to paint my new mini chair/plant stand (my DIY project)
watched Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince way too many times
read Tuck Everlasting again, remembering how much I loved it in the 6th grade
laughed so hard that I cried after shopping here with my sister. We won't be going back.
learned to love shopping at Goodwill
made a very easy and tasty diabetic pie that my darling hubby devoured; see recipe here
decided to finally start seriously trying for a baby
cried because my sister will be moving to Germany for 3 long years
starting planning my trip to Germany
saw Avatar
spent way too much time on facebook
broke my camera
went to Icefest in Chambersburg, PA
started blogging....
....and it's only the end of January!