Don’t worry, it’s not all sad-sad-unemployed-sad-sad-dramz around here.

So today, I hit up the dentist because HELLO, insurance runs out in one week & I’m making all the popular pit stops.  Dentist, eye doctor, birth control, & of course, the psychiatrist who desperately needs me to bitch on her couch for an hour.  I dropped Harrison off with his auntie for two hours while I got my teeth scrubbed (he had been asking for her & considering she was a daily fixture in his life for two years, he needs some Auntie time).  Then we hit up the craft store because a) it’s time to get my Pinterest on & b) The Momma’s birthday is coming up & I’m on a budget.

Let me just say that I can stand in a board room or jet across the country, but I turn into a complete wuss once I step through Michaels.  All those women with glue stick burns on their fingers, willing to cut a bitch over the last vial of Martha Stewart glitter?  THEY TERRIFY ME.  Same thing with fabric stores.  Also, the strangest thing happens that once I hit the first aisle, I completely forget what I was there for.  Confidence takes a crash & burn so I stand there in the aisles, completely overwhelmed by the choices in felt.

In short:
Before Michaels:  BIG SPARKLY INSPIRATIONAL UNICORNS OF HAPPINESS!

After Michaels:  I WILL NEVER ACHIEVE ANYTHING GOOD IN MY LIFE.

yeah.

I’m standing in line with Harry in the push cart & a matronly lady turns to me.

“Is your mother’s name Karen?” she asks.

“No,” I say politely.

“You look like my friend Karen, so I figured you must be her daughter,” she explains.  I shrug.  Raleigh is a pretty decent-sized city.

“With two children, I figured you had to be her,” she persists.

Is this lady drunk?  I only have one child in the seat & I’m pretty sure the firstborn’s that were traded for Christmas Cricuts weren’t eligible for the 40% off coupon.  Like I said, I’m on a budget so if it’s not on sale, it’s not in my cart.

“You know,” she says.  ”With your boy & the one on the way.”

oh.

shit.

Awkward silence abounds.

Does this lady not know Rules of Feminism #253: Don’t ask a woman if she’s pregnant unless the fetus is 75% down the birth canal with a hand waving?

HeirtoBlair500x150 v41 Dont worry, its not all sad sad unemployed sad sad dramz around here.

I am having a serious love affair with Pinterest & houses.

Since the house is on the market, I cannot stop dreaming about our next home.

(You know how I like to jump the gun.)

I spend my free time perusing the houses available in the neighborhoods we love, calculating mortgages & downpayments, wishing that our house would sell RIGHT THIS INSTANT BECAUSE DOUG! COME LOOK AT THIS HOUSE!  & then I hop on Pinterest & decorate the entire thing in my head.

Of course, my head doesn’t have a budget in mind which is a very lovely thing when I’m pinning Anthropologie & Amy Butler fabrics.

I’m in this awful stage right now of having so many ideas & dreams for decorating, but not wanting to “waste” them on the house we are selling.  Especially since the goal is to keep our current house as sparkling clean & sparse as possible. 

Sell, house.  Sell!

 
 
 
60306082479742195 9AFfhakO c I am having a serious love affair with Pinterest & houses.
60306082479796413 dPDdHJtT c I am having a serious love affair with Pinterest & houses.
4574037091245580 scGJaGC7 c I am having a serious love affair with Pinterest & houses.

Source: bhg.com via Beth Anne on Pinterest

 

Source: bhg.com via Beth Anne on Pinterest

 
 
 
 
60306082479856943 14A1PsjD c I am having a serious love affair with Pinterest & houses.
60306082479823760 l358JmMV c I am having a serious love affair with Pinterest & houses.
60306082479750066 2MKQYkvn c I am having a serious love affair with Pinterest & houses.

Smelly Feet vs Baby Kicks for Weirdest Post-Pregnancy Side Effect

Three words make the the Weirdest Thing Ever About Life After Birthing A Baby:  phantom baby kicks.

Yeah, they’re still happening two years later.

So I’m sitting there at my desk, happily tapping away at expenses & BAM! there’s a flutter in my uterus area.  It’s enough to make me take pause & freak the eff out that OH MY GOD, I’M GOING TO BE ON “I DIDN’T KNOW I WAS PREGNANT.” 

But then I remember that I’m already doing that female thing (send nachos & wine!) & we are staunch supporters of the Trojan man & there is simply NO WAY there is a bambino kicking away in my uterus.

But still.

Totally trippy.

When life feeds fear & the spillover runs bone dry.

I’m really busy these days.

It hits me when I lay down at night & my hips ache so badly & I wonder why I’m so tired.  I’m busy.

& I feel like I’m losing out on life.

Dramatic much?  But I spend 9 hours a day behind a computer, trying to make sense of my project manager & the boss man’s travel schedule.  I spend 2-3 hours per day in my car, trapped in bumper-to-bumper traffic.  I get home & throw on dinner, try to soak up time with Harrison, but the moment he is in pajamas I am back the the grind of taking out trash, picking up toys, & making the house presentable just in case they schedule a showing.  Just in case.

My one outlet, writing & sharing my thoughts & capturing them on film (albeit roughly), feels bone dry & I can’t help but fear if my lack of inspiration comes from lack of living.  My friend Nish often describes her blog as the spill-over of life & I’ve always felt the same – my blog holds all of the emotions & thought processes that I cannot keep to myself.  But these days, I feel like I’m on autopilot.

We race out the door every morning; my hair is flying & 75% of the time I have forgotten makeup, so I have yet to capture my attempt at growing my style.

The sun is down when I get home, so every night is a game of chase through the living room or vrooming cars around my ankles while I cook.

We did not take a winter long weekend to the mountains this year due to finances.

I see my friends grow & inspire & be viral & I shake my head at the emptiness of my own journal notes.  I’m being left behind.

I have no idea what’s happening with Zooey Dash-a-whatever or the other Kar-dash-a-whatever’s because I don’t have cable.  I have now been demoted to Former Pop Culture Princess.

I order clothes & Christmas presents & hell, even groceries online.

Some mothers ache for more interaction & more rigid schedule, but I long for days of a lazier pace & more sunshine with my tiny guy.

I just don’t know how to find it quite yet.

The universe is effing with my eyeballs.

I need to preface this by saying that for the first time IN A YEAR, I am doing that female thing we do.

I think because I’m hyper-sensitive to hormones, even the smallest dose of birth control kept my monthly bitch-fest at bay.  But then a change in insurance happened & I finished my last pack before my new insurance started, so here I am, all synthetic-hormone free & FULL OF THE BITCH.  You know, just in time for Christmas.

Then the eye doctor effed me over.  (y’all know how I feel about the eye doctor & if you don’t?  I hate him.)

So that stupid distorted cornea thing that started this summer with the splitting headaches & grey vision is still around.  The doctor recommended glasses to fix the issue, so the moment my insurance kicked in, I ordered a new pair.  Just a plain ol’ set, nothing too hipster or too modern.  I dig the classic Vera Wang.  (by the way, what is up with only carrying designer frames?  I don’t & won’t own anything else Vera Wang.  I don’t get it.)

Then I waited for them to arrive with my grey eye & massive amounts of impatience.  When they called Wednesday, I was all, “SEE YOU!” at 4:30 & hauled ass to the other side of town.  I slid into a parking space at 5pm on the nose & banged on the door at 5:01pm.  The gal at the desk looked up….& then looked back down.

The. Ever. Living. Eff.

I whipped out my phone & dial the number, thinking if she picked up I could explain that I had already paid for my glasses & all I needed was for her to just hand them to me.  The phone rang & rang & rang while she sat there.

I get it.  They closed at 5pm.  BUT IT WAS ONE MINUTE.  I’ve been a patient for over twenty years there.  & plus also?  I wouldn’t be in this position if it weren’t for a bad set of contacts they sold me.

The rage was so strong.

Between that moment & 8pm when I crawled into bed with a heating pad, I threatened doom.  Then I calmed down & became a sane person again, so at 8am on Thursday, I told work I’d be a wee bit late & swung over to the optomotrist.  Only to find them closed until 9am even though THEY OPEN AT 8 AM.

IS THE UNIVERSE LAUGHING AT ME?!?!

Long story short, I nearly ran over five people getting there, but I did manage to pick up my new set of eyes last night.

Picture 61 The universe is effing with my eyeballs.

glassescollage The universe is effing with my eyeballs.

(see also:  90% of this was my fault do to lack of planning, BUT DON’T TELL MY UTERUS THAT.)

Stealing is for losers. Copyright 2011 Beth Anne Ballance