So when Harrison starts screaming at bedtime & I’ve told him firmly to get back in bed three separate times, he stares up at me with tears falling & says, “Up!!”  oh, my heart.

I find myself all sternly inner-dialoguing how I’m setting us up for failure when he’s three as I make my way to the rocking chair.  But then I remember how I’m knee-deep in my uterus & how soon, Harry will be going to sleepovers where he will be embarrassed to ever admit he was rocked to sleep & I can’t help myself.  I sit & I rock & tell him stories about the man on the moon until he’s calm.  His heartbeat slows & his breathing steadies & I know he’s asleep because that’s the kind of thing that mother’s just know.

He’s drooling on my shoulder.  It’s time to put the kiddo to bed, but in his earlier rage, all blankets & pillows ended in a pile on the floor.  Which means that I have to get up from the chair & put the bedding back together with 30 lbs of live ammunition on my shoulder.  Doug to the nursery, I think into the universe.  I wait a few minutes.  Hey, buddy.  To the nursery for pillow recon.

I contemplate the length of my legs, wondering if I can grab the pillow corner with my toes & toss it into the bed.  If I can do that, then I’ll have a legit excuse to run away with the circus.  I feel the drool seeping through my jammies.  The kid stirs & I freeze & send imaginary red flares into the sky. & I’m all WHY IS HE NOT READING MY ESP?!  DOUG TO THE NURSERY!  DOUG TO THE NURSERY!

What good is being married almost six years if he can’t read my mind?

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?

I knew if I stayed in bed, we’d have a repeat of Friday where I was in pajamas at 4pm with no shower & pretty much a sorry state of affairs.

So I got up, poured a cup of coffee & popped muffins in the oven.  Straightened my hair & rubbed a dash of perfume under my jeans & light sweater.  I felt silly at first – who would see me?  I looked at the silk tops & pencil skirts & lined slacks hanging in my closet.  I’m going to need more jeans.  Will I ever wear that purple silk shift again?  I’m going to need a hat & gloves that aren’t dressy.  Should I just have a “shop my closet” sale?  I’m going to need more Zoloft.

I typed out words & listened to the quiet, finding thankfulness in not having to commute.  That bumper-to-bumper traffic was really fraying my nerves & patience.  The oven dings – muffins are ready.  I make a second cup of coffee & wonder if the new kitchen chairs will be delivered soon.  I wonder if I should send them back, even though they were purchased with Christmas money.

An hour later, Harry stood at the top of the stairs, bleary-eyed & hugging his stuffed monkey.

& so this new journey begins, the journey with an unexpected start & no set end.

So.

I am unemployed.

YANK.

It was unexpected.

YANK.

(also?  ouch.)

.

More to come after coffee & getting dressed & figuring out my first day as a temporary stay-at-home-momma.

• There is nothing better than freshly cleaned carpets in a home.  It might be sad that I own two different types of steam cleaners but y’all, I enjoy lying on the carpet without having an asthma attack.
• I’m having a serious love affair with pennant banners these days.  I could decorate my entire house with them.
• A lot of folks have been asking me about my red lipstick, & the name has rubbed off on the tube but it is Clinique.  My best advice for finding a good red is to ditch the drugstore & see a makeup person.  I just feel like red lipstick should be taken seriously, you know?  Get your pink at Walgreens.  Get your red at a department store.  I tried on about 5 different shades before landing on “the one.”
• I’m so digging Taylor Swift’s new song “Ours.”  I’m a shameless T-Swift fan but the lyrics are so sweet & wonderful.  Just listen to a preview on iTunes & I promise, you’ll be swaying happily a wee bit.
• Harrison has started screaming every night when it’s bath time.  The crazy thing is, he LOVES a bath or shower.  I think it is him realizing that bath = end of the day & he doesn’t want the fun to end.
• As part of being “pretty” in 2012, I ordered two new pairs of pajamas.  So long, wearing ratty tshirts & cheer shorts to bed.  Hello, cozy & matching jammies.  They honestly help me feel more confident going to bed & getting up in the morning.  Weird, right?

Did you brain dump this week?  Lemme see!

 I look to 2012 & what I wish to accomplish, all I see is a desire to grow.  Personally, by selling our house & buying a new home where we can expand our family.  Creating a super-fun new series for everyone to laugh & be themselves.  Developing a new skill, maybe taking structured sewing lessons.  I’d like to take where I am now in life, push against the walls until my arms are shaking & my voice feels tired, but everything around me expands.

When I try to pin one word to 2012, I am suprised that my initial reaction is not “grow,” but HOW I wish to grow.  How I wish to expand & breathe deeply & where to exhale my heart.

PRETTY.

A surprising word to shape a year around, no?

I look to delight in life in 2012.  To soak in new books & pretty words, to paint walls & furniture.  To iron pretty shirts & wear red lipstick & take care of myself both inside & out.  For the home to be clean, but full of laughter & sunshine & Matchbox cars strewn across the floor.  To live the abundant life & a beautiful life, to feel worth of feeling pretty all around me.

I think “pretty” can be bone-deep joy & thankfulness.

The pretty found in the muck & trenches of life.  Seeking God, but feeding souls by passing bread rather than Bible quotes.  To let faith become a life-altering beat in my heart to where prayer is not whispered on knees, but servitude with dirty hands that scrub away years of doubting myself.

I’d like to put my heart back on my sleeve.

I’d like to share all of those things on here.

Do you have a word for the year?  Something to strive toward? 

I bitched about my kid not sleeping.

I bitched about our neighborhood.

I bitched about preschool.

I bitched about weekends.

(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!

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.

Well, me & Mr. Darcy because I started reading the smut sequal to Pride & Prejudice, “Mr. Darcy Takes A Wife” & I’ve been pouring over pages & lovingly attacking my husband.

BLAME MR. DARCY.

.

(also, these are the books I currently have my nose in.)

isn’t my new rug mug mandie sent me just darling?  even the name “rug mug” totally kills me with the cute.