How could I forget? Maybe because there’s no corresponding evidence I suppose…

C3 took her first real steps last night. Not holding on to my hands or holding her up from above. She was standing and then wobbled over to me – maybe four steps. It was fantastic. There may have been tears. AuntB was there, and she cried too — a first like walking is a big one.

Video evidence tbd!

We’re counting down the days till we move in – and ticking things off the punch list. Yesterday I opened my first can of paint (don’t worry – there are 14 gallons left for me). K is still in the middle of taking down the master closet and patching some holes, but I’m moving on to the monumental task of painting. No surface is safe from my brush… I’m even painting laminate cabinets, which is almost insane. Y’all, wish me luck.

Appliances are coming in next Friday. We move on Memorial Day. Next week we’re going to take a blow up mattress and spend nights there. Someone can get the baby down and we can work into the night. Flooring is going to be the biggest nightmare, I think. It’s easy to get down; it’s hard to finish. I painted C3′s room first: it’s pink. I chose a blush (ahem, and bashful), but dang if it didn’t look PINK as it went up. It’s better now, and it will look better once there’s real lighting and not a bare bulb plugged into an outlet.

What else is happening up in our lives? Nothing really exists past the reno and improvements. Oh – I did buy a church pew off of Craigslist and I am crazy excited about it. Eventually it will be a bench in our kitchen (I need a kitchen table first), but right now it will go in the sunroom/playroom once I get it painted some fantastic bright color. Cannot wait – best $20 bucks I’ve spent in a while. Seriously, I couldn’t buy the wood for $20.

I’ve been with K for seven years, married for six, and a mother for almost one – and all of it collided yesterday.

I hate Mother’s Day – maybe “hate” is too strong a word, but for the most part I just don’t like it. It makes me feel uncomfortable and worried and anxious. Yes, yes, I’ve written about it all before. My history with mother’s day has been anything but pleasant. I’m not sure what I was expecting it to feel like as a mother, but it didn’t necessarily feel any different.

I’m grateful, overjoyed, humbled by the beauty of being a mom. I’m also tired. I’m more in love with my husband than ever before and I also wish I had a night alone – maybe one with him and maybe one without him. Oh, the joys of the dialectic. I’d like to have sex with him when I wasn’t exhausted, when I wasn’t half listening for the baby, when there was enough time to delight in him. WHOA, I just blogged about my sex life for the first time, like, ever. I’m officially one of those people; Brittany would be proud.

The exhaustion is compounded by the house repair that will not quit (y’all the oven had no electrical plug, it was just hardwired into a junction box!). We’ve only got two more weeks till we move in, and the ticking clock is keeping me awake. It’s all pretty awesome though. All of it – we love it. I love it. I can’t believe how lucky we are. All of this gooey stuff that makes up our life – I wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

 

Y’all, I am dealing with avocado green, lots and lots of avocado green. But before we veer off into the abyss, let us not forget the orange and gold (yes, like faux gold leaf) shell wallpaper that adorns the guest bath. Or the lovely orange peach and orange (WTF?) wallpaper in the kitchen. Do you even notice the wallpaper when faced with those lovely laminate cabinets? Oh my, don’t forget that built-in cutting board!

We’re closing in two weeks – and we cannot wait. OMGee, a home of our very own.

We spent last Saturday wandering the aisles of Home Depot, a notebook and pen in our hands. We’ve got plans – plans that extend through the next two years. It’s going to take a while to get this beast in line. It’s going to be so much fun! We’ve picked out new appliances, new flooring (goodbye avocado shag!), and so much paint. Words like moonshine, classic silver, and vienna lace are floating around my head.

On top of that, at some point I need to put something together for C3′s birthday. BIRTHDAY. When did I turn around and have a one year old. I can still remember pushing – how is this possible? When do invitations for a birthday party need to go out?

It was only fair that after a trip to Columbia, we take the babe up to Tallahassee to vist FSU. It was K’s birthday and we had plans to celebrate by going to the Spring Game and a few other events for those in the weird garnet jackets. It was awesome.

C3 loved it! I can’t believe she made it through the whole game, but she rocked it. She laughed, clapped, and all-but did the chop. And that darling dress? Oh yes, I made it and I’m still surprised with myself. I didn’t really intend for it to be garnet and black, but just about everyone commented on it. I personally think garnet goes best with black, not with gold – but I understand I may be out-voted in Tallahassee.

I love traveling with the baby, but man it’s hard. All of it first world problems, yes (I hate washing bottles in the bathroom sink). It was our first real weekend away since, um, forever. We used to take weekend trips somewhat regularly – down to the beach, over to the east coast. This was our first weekend away in two years. It was wonderful – even with the bottles.

I love seeing my daughter interact with other people. She’s such a flirt (don’t know where she gets it). She’s doing this new thing where she crinkles up her nose and smiles with all her teeth. It’s disarming and ridiculous and I laugh every time I see it. She knows it.

Before the first time K and I traveled to the mountains of South Carolina, K was convinced that the mountains I dreamed about were really glorified hills. One “walk” down to Rainbow Falls had him singing another tune. Color me right again last week. It was 55° in Columbia, SC and rainy. K told me I was overreacting by packing a fleece and sweater. Unlike our balmy Florida, where 55° and rainy means there’s some warmth in the air (we don’t really get cold rain), South Carolina was frigid. We stopped for gas in O’burg and he wouldn’t get out of the car – granted he was in shorts and a t-shirt. Heh. Last time he doubts my South Carolina advice, maybe.

It was a ridiculously quick trip – up and back in less than 48 hours. In other news, that was the longest road trip we’ve ever taken with the babe. Success!

 

JDC and I used to thank everything under the sun that the technology that powered cell phone cameras was not readily available in our college days. There were pranks, covert drinking underneath the eave of the psychology building, overt drinking at Salty Nut. There was travel to the midwest (seriously, how did we end up in Minnesota and Iowa), crazy people on planes, strange pillows. We talked about our parents; we talked about his girls and my boys. There was a lot of laughter – but not in the sweet way, I’m talking about the kind of laughter that left you sore.

We actually met in high school. A half-state apart, the world of YIG and debate brought us together. I took my role as a debater very very seriously; he was much more laid back. It almost scared me – to see him at the front of a re-purposed classroom, giving a speech with nothing in his hands. I couldn’t let go of a yellow legal pad – but he knew what to say and how to say it. He was funny, sarcastic, and could weave one hell of a story.

In college, we spent time together in that fluid way of all college students. We were on the Mock Trial team together, had classes together. He was always one of my crushes for the epic Tri-Delta Crush Party each year. One year – at Jungle Jim’s – we both got so drunk we could barely remember our names. We had to drive to Spartanburg for a mock trial competition. I was supposed to drive, but after getting up and trying to swallow some gatorade, I knew I wasn’t going to make it to his dorm on the Horseshoe, let alone make it the hour and a half to Sparkle City. He, gentleman that he was, offered to drive. We loaded up the Taurus. About half way there, I begged him to pull over, but we were running late. Instead, he rolled down the window and let me vomit all over the red Ford 150 in the next lane. If you haven’t puked roaring up I-85, with JDC laughing hysterically next to you, you haven’t lived.

JDC was there in Mississippi. He was in my wedding. He called me on Christmas night when I thought my world was falling apart. He told me that all the boys were a little intimidated of me in high school – not because of my speaking skill per se – but because of the short red skirts I used to wear. When I was still living in Columbia, he met K on one of his first weekends up from Florida. We drank scotch in my kitchen until dawn (ahem, they drank scotch). I actually went to bed and let them talk. Two lawyers. Two men who I love. Loved.

At first, when his facebook page started blowing up, I thought it was the worst possible April Fool’s prank. Ever. Until it spread and spread and do people really say RIP? There aren’t a lot of details yet, and I’m still in a little shock that this guy is gone. This is probably the worst ever way to talk abut him too – I mean, the man could tell a story.

Y’all, she smiles all the time. And she also looks like a toddler. I am not okay with that.

Ten years ago yesterday, I reached a breaking point. I was out of control on the wrong mixture of mood-stabilizing drugs. I was out of control, period. Ten years ago yesterday, I landed in a hospital that I never had any intention of visiting. Ten years ago today, I woke up and realized I wanted to continue waking up every day of my life.

Today is Easter, a day of rebirth and forgiveness and promise. The fact that it coincides with my personal anniversary is… what’s the word? Special? Heavy? Wonderful. I struggle with Easter – the Passion of Christ seems more pageantry than fact. When we started going back to church last fall, I had a moment of personal truth – God loved us so, he gave his only son. As I held my precious daughter in my arms, I thought of all the things I would sacrifice, kill, heal for her. The thought of offering her up for harm – it caught me off guard to even fathom that type of love.

I am fierce; He is fiercer.

I still cannot believe I survived. I survived to get better, to be the woman I was meant to be – at least, I’m on the way there. At the time, I thought it was all on my own pluck and the support of my family. I had no idea I was so beloved by God. The ten year mark is important in my life. The odds of living ten years without an episode of manic depression is low. I’m the girl who can’t get life insurance, and yet here I am – ten years later. Healthy. Sane. Happy. I don’t usually share this story, but today of all days – on Easter – it feels like a rebirth for me. Ten years, folks. A decade of confidence that I can depend on, build on, and continue.

Whoa. Y’all – she’s ten months old. TEN MONTHS OLD. Again, I’m still a little shocked that we’ve kept a human alive for ten months. Not that she lives in a death trap or anything, but it’s just amazing to see the changes in this being. She’s got such a personality now – there’s a real person emerging from the blob of cuteness and chubby thighs.

There’s not a lot of new things to report – she likes to eat. She likes to crawl. She likes to talk to her toys and really enjoys pretend reading books. K and I imagine that she’s telling stories to herself. There are six teeth, and one more on its way up. She’s fascinated by glasses, but will no longer allow me to put a hat on her head. She loves the puppy, George – who, at seven years old isn’t much of a puppy anymore.

K and I delight in her.

*ten month picture coming soon*