Archive for August, 2011

Little Stowaway

Have you ever seen that movie with Shirley Temple in which she hides on a boat to get away from the orphanage she is about to get sent to?  It’s called Stowaway and, even though my stowaway is not nearly as talented musically and does not have the ability to look adorable in a baby doll dress (yet!), s/he does have the knack of getting unsuspecting adults to swoon (namely me.  And by swoon, I mean simultaneously get nauseous and lightheaded).  That’s right, folks.  I got my positive.

Let’s try that again.  I AM PREGNANT!!!!!  We were in Costa Rica when it happened.  Well, when I tested, that is.  It did mean that I was kind of worthless for part of our trip.  Oh, who am I kidding?  I was worthless for all of our trip due to a very saddle sore behind, courtesy of the PMC.

Speaking of the PMC.  This means that Stowaway was conceived right before it.  Mr. Cookie came up with the nickname after winning a high stakes game of Scrabble.  We figure, our little stowaway was there for the PMC AND came along on our trip to Costa Rica, hence stowing away for both events.

2012 will be the best year yet.

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I Need Order!

Those were words oft spake by my mom. I grew up in a house that was very ordered in many ways.  Everything had its place, and each night before bed there would be stacks of things on the stairs that needed to make their way up to our rooms- mail, toys, etc.  If we wanted friends to come over, we usually had to vacuum.  That’s just the way things were.  I scoffed at it and thought my mom was being too uptight.  After all, my friends lived in houses with various states of clutter and mess and they didn’t seem at all bothered by them.  Wouldn’t it be nice to live like that, free of the compulsion to clean?

Now that I’m an adult, I realize it is not nice.  Not for me, at any rate.  You know that show Hoarders?  Every time I watch it I feel a huge need to purge.  Not that I’m really a pack rat to begin with.  But just watching how some of those people live stresses me out.  It’s odd, because even now if I got to a friend’s house and it is messy and cluttered I’m not usually bothered by it.  I am not stressed out and I don’t feel a compulsion to get busy with the broom and duster.  I have noticed a correlation between the length of time I stay and my stress level though.  If I am spending the night, it goes up a little.  If I am spending a weekend, a little more.  If I’m staying a week, oh my god where are the cleaning supplies?!

All this to say, that when it comes to my own house (and it really is my own house now, yay!!), I need order too.  It’s where I live.  I spend the majority of my time here.  My mind is reflective of my living space.  So, from the moment we moved in I already had plans to make our space more liveable.  Behold…

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