And for my last trick (please say it's the last): FLU!

Which brings this current year's total to 3 colds, 1 strep throat, 1 ear infection, 1 pink eye, 1 ovarian cyst, 1 flu, and I'm pretty sure I have bronchitis now.

And please pause to remember that we have not even completed 3 months of this calendar year.

I don't know if I have a job, house, husband, or child anymore. I do know that I have run out of Kleenex and Mucinex and the will to go on.

Starting Afresh

Killing me softly with this snow. Killing me softly.

Now that I have had one week of a mostly healthy household I decided to start 2015 over. I'll give it a pass. Because even though it's my birth month and has Valentine's Day in it there is no getting around the fact that February, is awful. I have a special place of disdain for January but then I always forget there is STILL February and then if you live above Tennessee there is STILL March. But thankfully I live in the Dirty Dirty where Spring springs it's loveliness in March.

So yeah, toodles winter. Don't let the flower crown I plan to make for my door hit you on the way out.

Besides being ridiculously sick I did manage to get one more section of the Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up finished: BOOKS! Which, by my account, were much harder to part with than clothes. I've been getting rid of books every time we move so my stash is much smaller than it used to be but, by my count, I have more than 100 books and I could only get rid of 30. Not too bad. I'm definitely still hanging on to my McSweeney's collection because they are "cool" not because they spark much joy these days (They have practically negative value on Ebay). And there are so many poetry books that I would give up if not for the personalized inscriptions. Kondo doesn't really address that. And she advises to not open a book so you don't get sucked in but sometimes I needed to open a book to see if it sparked joy.

Ahhh anyway. Although Marie Kondo wants you to declutter in one swoop, mine will probably take all year. Especially since JTS then goes back through my box (just like Kondo says for family not to do) and then prods me into keeping things that I'm fine getting rid of. It will be a long process.

And I'm still on Chapter 5 of Artist's Way. Lil' D has been sleeping in until 7 or 8 and I'm not missing out on that kind of sleep no matter what.

So NEW new year's resolutions:

1) Less screen time (abandoned no news whilst ill because it was just too hard - although I still am not the news junkie I was in 2014)
2) Finish Lil' D's baby book
3) Finish a quilt with my favorite quilter 
4) Finish decluttering per The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up
5) Finish Artist's Way
6) Write at least one post a week on the ole blog
7) Start thank you note project (more to come)
8) Achieve Nirvana (that's what my goals feel like sometimes)


P.S. I am slightly obsessed with decluttering right now. And this article caught my eye.

P.S.S. 2-4 inches of snow are supposed to fall tomorrow but I've got my eyes on March baby.



Photo gently borrowed from The Mirror in a story about a man freezing to death.

Tuesday, February 3rd, Day of Rest

Total Illness Count Since January:

Daisy: 2 colds, 1 strep throat, 1 ER visit for ovarian cyst
JTS: 2 colds
Lil' D: 2  colds, 2 ear infections, 1 possible pink eye

Needless to say my New Year's goals went kaput real fast. As usual, I probably aimed for too much too fast and once the current state of illness hit my house everything derailed. I am still reading Artist's Way but after trying to restart Week 4 four times, I realized things aren't necessarily going to go my way. My other goals included : writing weekly or monthly thank you notes to random people, writing on my blog more (ha!), finishing Lil' D's baby book, and finishing a quilt.

So there is that.

I started the New Year reading three books about changing your life. Artist's Way (see aforementioned stall), Loving Yourself to Great Health (stalled), and The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up (finished clothes). Yeah, probably too much to tackle all at once.

I've always been pretty lazy and/or a procrastinator with high hopes but once Lil' D hit the scene I suddenly realized how quickly mess accumulates or meals devolve into boxed food or the money evaporates if you don't stay on top of things EVERY. DAY. So I've been running myself ragged meal planning and budgeting and cleaning (whilst working and taking care of Lil' D) so that things don't get out of hand.

But they always do.

Do you spiral into a depression circle when that happens? I do. I feel like a failure. So I think all this illness is the universe forcing me to take a breath and slow down some. It's hard to rest when you have a 21 month old and you are trying to save money. SO MUCH TO DO.

Anyway. Deep breath. I was reminded the other day to be thankful no matter what but it's been a big struggle to figure out the thanks in here.

I'm pretty sure my only accomplishment for the month of January was to declutter my clothes. If you haven't read The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up I highly recommend it (and I talked about it here). I pulled out every item of clothing I own and touched it all to see if it "sparked joy" (per instruction) and then I got rid of most of everything. I had to hang on to some things that I wouldn't necessarily say spark joy just so I would have some clothes to wear! I don't know when I will rebuild my wardrobe but it's definitely going to be slow and involve a lot more heart. I even folded all my clothes "standing up" and organized my closet rising left to right. I have to say it's a lot more pleasing (and I realized I don't really like pants).

Here are some very dark pictures from my clothes decluttering journey:


Before (starting late at night):

After (One sample drawer - note the empty space where I used to own clothes):

January 2015: I give up.

I'm throwing my hands up and scowling at you January 2015.

I had lofty goals and seemingly simple aspirations until you, you, you.

So I'm telling you I'm over it. I give up. I throw in the towel.

I'm tired of the constant colds rampaging through my house without even a two week break in between. I'm tired of the sniffles, the ear infections, the chasing a toddler around the house trying to get her to take her medicine (or the forcing her down like an inpatient to get drops in her eyes or ears or wherever they are supposed to go). I'm tired of being woken up all night to the heartbreaking sounds of toddler coughs when they are only 3 FREAKING months away from being able to take cough medicine.

And that little fun trip to the ER you threw in, I'm over that too. (Side note: ovarian cysts, oxycodone, vomiting, and pain - I'm over all of that too).

I'm tired of trying to run even the tiniest business while dealing with all this mess you caused January.

My house is a disaster, my child pretty much thinks all meals consist of crackers, Gerber yogurt drops and applesauce, and I'm tired. Really tired. I went to lay down for a minute yesterday and woke up four hours later. I feel like I could cry a river, a Justin Timberlake music video worth of rain and frustration and sadness.

And the month of my despair has only taught me one thing thanks to too many hours on Instagram:

I'm the only person in the universe that doesn't own this rug.

Please don't tell me to hang in there mama. I appreciate the sentiment but there is literally nothing left to hang on to. It's all covered in germs and slippery with tears.

Hello 2015!

I have been waiting for, like, forever for 2015. A year, actually, because I don't like even numbers.

So HELLO 2015! I'm happy to see you. I'll forgive you the bitter bitter cold.

Here are my exciting plans for you:

For the last couple of years I've been setting themes and goals instead of resolutions because my resolutions tend to be a bit nebulous, and actually last year my goal of communicating better was a huge bust because I had no concrete smaller goals to achieve the larger one. But, oh well, 2014 you even year you. Who cares! Adios!

This year's theme is one straight out of Stewart Smalley.
My theme this year is to: LOVE MYSELF MORE.

Cringe, gasp, point, laugh, this is what it's going to be for me this year. I realized that my larger goals for the year: eating better, being more creative, and being more thankful for what I had all wrapped up nicely into loving more.

What shows you that you love you more than eating an apple instead of a biscuits and gravy? Or taking the time to reignite some creative energy and spending time on "frivolous" passions? Or instead of complaining about this that and the other showing yourself and the universe that you are grateful for what you have?

The big component of my year is a huge undertaking and I haven't quite figure out how to do it yet, but I plan on having a news fast for the entire year.

Yes, you read that right. The entire year.

I'm a person who gets swept up in it. The fear, the anxiety, the worry, and anger. I have my causes that always get me riled up. I get depressed over how many people seem to automatically reach for a gun instead of a discussion. I get fearful about the world and the people in it. And not only does that not add to my year's theme of loving more, those emotions don't help you love the other people of the world. And this year's theme is all about the love and the creativity and the passion.

But I have no idea how I'm going to accomplish this. The easy parts are easy. No TV news, no internet news sites, no NPR on the radio (that last one gave me so much anxiety it was silly - what would I possibly listen to in the car?!). But then it gets grey. Do articles about home life or "5 Things You Are Doing Wrong In Your Marriage" count?

I've now decided yes.

I don't just want the actual scary news pouring into my brain, I also don't want to be told what to want or what my marriage is lacking or how to be a better parent in my brain either. I just want me. 100% ole me. Which makes Facebook and Twitter tough. I started out by getting rid of all the newsy news people on Twitter, then the comedians who discuss the news, then the non-profits who talk about the news, and now I'm down to very few things of interest on Twitter. And you can't get on Facebook because it's always telling you who liked what article and flashing that up. And after the terrible shooting in Paris, I realized Instagram isn't safe either. And does seeing all those beautiful home interiors I can't afford inspire or cause shame? Food for thought.

I don't have an answer yet. I tweet my gratitudes several times a week. I will be posting more design work on Facebook. I really don't want to quit you Instagram. I talked to a very creative toy maker the other week and he only gets on social media to promote his own work. He doesn't hang around. Maybe that's where I will go. But I love my Louise Hay messages and my Dave Ramsey encouragement (yup, still doing that).

For right now I still get news once a week from the magazine The Week that is delivered in my mailbox. And everything else will be based upon whether this helps me to love myself and others more or not. And if not, it's gotta go!

So that's the big goal. My next smaller post (man, this post has gone on too long), will be about the smaller goals.

Leaving behind the need to prove.

From wwf.org and also a calming image

I've been thinking a lot about being who you really are vs. who you either want to be or who you think you should be.

It's all kind of boiled down into: what am I trying to prove?

And then realizing the whys don't matter to me. I don't really want to prove anything to anyone anymore.

Getting rid of the need to prove has been a slow motion train that is still picking up steam. Like a lot of things in life once you have THE thought you tend to keep seeing that thought everywhere you go. I've been finding articles and movies and talks that have made me reevaluate when am I living as me and when am I proving as not me. Some of them I've listed below:

Grace Bonney of Design Sponge coming out after one of the most elaborate weddings I've ever seen. That must have taken so much courage to do a 180 on the life you've very publicly set up.

This woman discusses the struggle of being taken seriously as a working mom. I've faced the same struggle but, unlike her, I don't want to be stressed out anymore. I don't find joy in that kind of chaos. That's not for me. Wake-up call.

My mom's friend's documentary about the creative process. Patricia is so natural and so obviously living her passion. Which I'm sorry no one outside of Birmingham can watch right now but it was inspiring to watch pure trust in the creative work.

More minimalism. Getting rid of proving seems to be minimalism of the heart.

Always, always, Christiane Northrup on Hay House Radio.

After more than 30 years of trying to prove how smart, tough, cool, calm, sassy, pretty, willing, forceful, cute, spunky, strong, sexy, etc. I am - it never actually makes me so. I'm still sensitive, gullible, naive and prone to anxiety and worrying. Some days I'm spunky, some days I'm not. I may be smart in some ways but I'm not in all the ways I try to prove. I'll just say it right now: I'm never going to open Infinite Jest. I also like the music of Jewel. And Hallmark Christmas Movies.

Needless to say, no amount of proving has turned me into my idols growing up: from Punky Brewster to Liz Phair. I'm not going to be Winona Rider in Reality Bites. I'm not going to be Julie Delpy in Before Sunrise or even Liv Tyler in Empire Records (can you tell I turned 15 in the mid '90's?). I'm not French. I'm not tough. I care too much about some things and not enough about others. I'm not the manic pixie girl of my dreams nor the femme fatale.  I'm human. As Glennon at Momastery put it, "I'm the Daisiest you can be." (see post on Facebook)

It's scary to figure out who you really are after putting down the proving. I don't know what I want. I know I'll still feel the need to prove. To show (and get validation) for myself. And I feel like the only way to not need to prove is to get real real comfortable with me.

So I'm taking a cue from decluttering and asking the question, again; this time about the way I spend my time, the items I spend money on, the people I hang with, etc, "Does THIS spark joy?"

It's a lot easier to answer honestly when you have nothing to prove.
And only honesty matters.


P.S. Apparently I'm 5 years behind.

On Multiplying

I know what we would need to do to have a second baby.

We would need to be able to live off one income. We would need to be able to pay for five days a week, full-time child care with a lot of babysitters on the side. We would need to be prepared for some hospital stays. We would need to be prepared to live as a one parent family who nursed a sick relative 24 hours a day.

And that's just the practical logistics.

The emotional toll is high as well. For me it's accepting the possibility of 9 months of disabling illness. Losing my job again. Having every scent in the known world be nauseating. Ruining what's left to ruin of my teeth. For JTS it would be being a full-time caregiver again. For Lil' D it would be not having a mama for 9 months. Or at least not a mom she recognizes.

As more and more of my friends move on to welcoming their second child and as more of Lil' D's school class gets new siblings I'm starting to feel (for the first time in my life)

left behind.

I never cared when everyone started getting married and I didn't. I never cared when people were having children and I wasn't. But this second child thing. Man, it eats at me every day.

There is a 65 - 80% chance that if you've had hyperemesis before you will have it again. But the thing with me is no one knows if I had hyperemesis in the first place or if my no good, horrible, very bad pregnancy was all a side-effect of my uterus making a slow migration to the other side of my body or some kind of horror show combination. And no one knows if any of it would happen again.

"Probably not."

But.

"No promises."

Nothing in the wide world makes me sadder than thinking about when I was pregnant. My nightmares still involve a positive pregnancy test and I can get to PTSD levels of anxiety thinking of being trapped in that sick, very pained body again. I missed out on the happy parts of pregnancy and that makes me sad. I never got to have a baby shower and that makes me sad. I never got to "enjoy" pregnancy or plan for a nursery and that makes me sad. I never got to ruminate on the baby with love and that makes me sad. My only thought ever was "Please God let this end." And on some dark dark days I didn't really care how that end came about. The only thing that kept me going was my weekly ultrasound and that there was an end date. On a hospital calendar.

And at 8:46 am on week 38 your suffering shall end. Amen.

So probably everyone out there is now wondering why in all the hells would I even be thinking about risking this again?

The first, and most obviously wonderful reason is: babies are awesome. If I had known how addictive they were I would have skipped the whole elaborate cake and cafe lighting wedding and just gone straight to the baby.

How can you resist this drooler?

After you get through that o-so-tough first 3 months it's all pretty fun. The smiles, the giggles, the utter silliness. Sure, everyone loves to moan about the bad nights, the crying in restaurants, etc. etc. But when a little pint-sized goofball tries to make a "joke" (in this case, imagine Lil' D accidentally running into a pole, not hard, but then getting a sly look across her face, falling flat on her back with her legs in the air and then waiting with a smile to see if anyone laughs) it's just SO. WORTH. IT.

The second answer is more complicated and has, honestly, more to do with guilt than my true feelings. I will feel guilty if Lil' D didn't have a sibling. I will feel guilty on those Sunday afternoons when she is bored and could be playing with a sibling. I will feel guilty she won't ever have anyone to discuss how nuts her mom is over a latte. Well, anyone who really knows.

And then the mother of all guilt. There is an unspoken code I feel that you don't really count as a mom until you have two. Until you're outnumbered. That somehow you have it easy with this fake, only* child and you haven't yet joined the ranks of mom.

But I waffle.

On difficult days one seems like plenty. On the super happy days I don't know how I could ever love another. When all is well I would never want to diminish the amazing amount of attention I can lavish on Lil' D. She soaks it up. And in all my obsessive research over one child families, only children do really well with all that undivided attention and love.

And of course the very traumatized soul of my pregnant self never wants to go through those 9 months again. And even pretending the next time will be different doesn't make it so.

I don't know how it will all shake out. But I'm feeling really behind. I'm feeling disappointed in my body. I'm feeling disappointed in myself for not having an answer. With every new baby that enters my world I feel a disturbing combination of happiness for my friend and wrenching jealousy.

But I have figured out that's the reason why I've been wanting to get a whole new wardrobe or redo my living room. To take my mind off the fact that I just want something I can't make happen. I want to be a normal woman, with a normal pregnancy. Something to celebrate, not something to dread.


*Side note: What a terrible term ONLY child is. On so many levels.