Mouth of Babes or Whatever-the-F&@#

I was getting dressed this morning and my 4 year old gasped, exclaiming OH MY GOSH your underwear is like thiiiis big! with outstretched arms to show me just how big.

Ouch.

How'd your day start?

And All of My Money Goes To....

Commenter #9 - Wendi, who posted as Anonymous, gets a total of $16.60 from me just for playing. I was pretty sure I only had the $0.60 so it was a good day to play along.  Thanks for all the comments - I loved reading every single one.

Blippits: A Definition and Examples

Hi, my name is Anna and it's been 2 weeks since my last post.
And I don't honestly know when or if it will get any better.

You see, I just don't feel like I have anything to talk about that you would actually want to read.  Things are going on, sure, but I never feel like it's anything you'd want to hear about.  Or I have a post in mind that nearly requires a picture - something I'm just too lazy and forgetful to do.  And some are things that I'm not sure how to actually talk about here.

So, instead, I give you blippits (blurbs + snippets):

• Elliot has moved up to the 4 year old / official preschool room at school leaving behind his beloved Ms. Nicole.  Her favorite memory of him?  Him coming up to her and politely telling her "my shorts are in my body" ... I guess we failed at teaching him what a wedgie is.  
• Also, he got new shoes - in a size 12W.  Hellllo, giant feet.
• The first Farmers' Market I did was great.  The second?  Sucked so bad that it had me re-thinking my ability to even turn on a sewing machine. Thankfully, Etsy picked up a bit and my confidence was restored.  Farmers' Market though?  Pshaw, I'm over you.
• I got a REALLY COOL invite to be in a local craft show (that shall remain nameless for what I'm about to say...) but then got uninvited (I KNOW) because one item I make is too similar to something that two other people make.  I responded that I was disappointed and thought I had more to offer than just that one item... and noted I wouldn't be applying.  I'm really upset about this one - I was so excited that she searched me out and personally invited me to be a part of her show and then, with clickety-clack of the keyboard, uninvited me without much thought. 
• New nephew alert!  Wyatt joined the ranks of Seckman grand kids as Fred's sister Steph had her second child nearly 2 weeks ago.  He's as cute as his brother was and just as charming.
• We'll be at Disney World in 29 days!  I only wish that said FOR 29 days.
• And because thinking of the big Dee-Dub (get it?  DW? Short for Disney World? Oh forget it.) reminds me of lots of people taking your picture, let me tell you a sad little story involving yours truly.  You see, we had a special event last week that I had to work at and numerous pictures were taken.  Numerous pictures showing just how (ah-hem) large I have become.  If you know me at all, you know I'm not one of those 'Yeah, and I'm proud of my curves" women but, instead, am the type that was made physically ill at the sight and cued up the band for my very own pity party while simultaneously trying to hide out under a desk somewhere lest someone should see this ugliness.  How much ugly can I lose in 29 days?
• The place where I work laid off two employees on the first of this month thanks to the lack of funding to sustain the positions. I'm still not sure what to think about it all and am completely unsure that it's even blog appropriate. All I know is that I am no longer working with two people that I considered to be both, coworkers and friends. And I miss them. And, in a sick sort of way, I'm happy it wasn't me.
• On the heels of that news, we decided to take on a few home improvement projects in the event that it could be me next time and if we needed to sell the house, at least we'd be ready to go. What started off as some weeding and mulching in the back led to painting shutters, painting the front door, installing new door hardware and making plans to replace outside lights next month. Speaking of outside...
• Shrubbery Update: I've got Fred nailed down for NEXT SPRING to get rid of those barberries! Finally! Hurray! Hurrah! How long till "next spring?"  That's like February, right?
• Speaking of Fred, we celebrated our 7th anniversary earlier this month by shipping Elliot off to Tecumseh so I could sew and he could play video games. Uninterrupted.  That?  Is love. 

In honor of our anniversary, I'll give one lucky commenter all the money in my wallet!  All you have to do is tell me something that's happened in your life recently or give a suggestion on what you'd like me to blog about.  I'll leave this open through Thursday at 11:59pm CST and pick a winner at random on Friday.

Let's Talk about Meds, Bay-bee

For the most part, I'm open and honest here and don't shy away from posting about my struggles with depression and anxiety even if it does send my pulse racing before I click "Publish Post" and wince, waiting for the lashings. 

The lashings never come.

Instead I get outpourings of support and love.  Support from people that understand what I'm talking about and that maybe struggle too.  Support from people that love me regardless of any disease I may have.

Yes, disease.  It is a disease.

And being no different than a Diabetic treating their disease with insulin, I treat my depression and anxiety with medication too.  Something in my brain isn't producing the right chemicals and I'm fixing that. 

But somehow I'm viewed as the crazy one - the one with a - shhhh! - mental illness. 

A friend asked this weekend why there is such a stigma attached to it.  I had no answer.  Why, she asked, is it such a big hushed-up secret as if you'd die should anyone find out you're on an anti-depressant.  I still had no answer.  Isn't it easier to justify if it's Post-Partum Depression and not just regular depression?   Again, no answer.

Today I read a blog post that nearly brought me to tears.  Struggling for some time, she didn't want to take her meds because of weight gain and honing her fine skills of convincing herself she's just fine. 

Like somehow breaking down and taking these stupid little pills makes her any less of a person - a mom, a wife, a woman, whatever.  Like somehow treating her disease would be viewed as socially inappropriate.

Been there, done that, got over it. 

I just wish everyone else would too so that those of us struggling wouldn't constantly feel like we're climbing up a hill filled with your disdain and dirty looks.

Favorite Time

Hands down, my favorite time of day every single day is the moment I check in on a (hopefully) sleeping Elliot.  I creep into his room, pull the covers back over his tiny, 4 year old body, and instantly forget (hopefully) any of the rotten things he may have done that day.

To see him sleeping - so soft and innocent - erases the yelling and scolding but reinforces the giggling and cuddling.  My boy - my perfect boy - resting up for another day with Giraffey and a blankie in addition to all of his normal bedding.

Some nights are easier than others and some nights beg me to call a witness to what I see - naked butt up in the air, most of a body hanging out of bed, etc. 

Last night was one of those nights. 

I know I should get on him about playing with things in bed, but when you go in his room and see that cuteness, how can you do anything but smile?

A Kind Reminder to Myself

A reminder to myself as someone that takes everything and everyone entirely too seriously. Thank you, Pinterest, for this gem today.