Oops I did it again

I'm not a terribly indecisive person but I am a terrible overthinker. Even though the last post here was awhile ago I write allllll the time. I couldn't figure out why I was hesitating to hit publish. I think I've figured it out. At the very least part of it. is that 700 smiles is for Luca. It's my fundraising heart, change the world spot that is still very much in the front of my mind and big picture goals. However my day to day is currently more survival-esque trying to figure out what the hell I'm actually doing, what day it is, what mascara makes me look like I've slept more than 5 hours and decoding my amazon prime charges. So they just weren't meshing. I want to swear more than I ever would be willing to on something so pure and good. So in an effort to let everyone find themselves I'm going to give them some space. Try new things, see other people aka domain names. That never works in relationships but I think a little spot on the internet can. 

Speaking of a little spot on the internet, I've got a new one of those tooooooooo. It's for the ladies to have a private place to post all the sales that they want to share but don't want their spouse to see. To poll the crowd on their favorite foundation. To have the in depth analysis of last nights episode of the bachelorette that you might feel silly doing on your own page. You get the gist right? So come on over. The coffee is probably cold but it ain't decaf.

I'm so sorry I judged you.

*I wrote this (and lots lots more that I've given up on trying to post chronologically) sometime in the first 12? weeks of Luca's life. Idk it's blurry back there!*

I caught a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror this morning as I was hustling to shave another second off my bathroom time. (That's essentially like sprint training right? When's the mom olympics?) I commented to myself that I look like I'd been rescued from a shipwreck, but honestly I'm totally ok with this. I'm soaking up every crazy second. Ok, not everyyyy one but I'm trying to. Everyday is a milestone. Everything is a milestone. I mean every coo and movement feels new and special right? That first smile? Stop it. Take it all. My heart, every cent I've got, my fashion sense, my ability to shower, just take it all and give me those smiles. The immeasurable love, that was expected. But the pride, not as much.

I totally used to judge the moms that would post how proud they were of their preschool or kindergarten graduates. I loved seeing the pictures but would think proud, really?  Like come on, it's kindergarten. Wellllll I was ecstatic the other day when L soothed himself back to sleep for kind of the first time. So essentially I celebrated the fact that he opened and then not long after closed his eyes. Essentially blinking, a reflex even. Yep I was so proud. So don't you worry I'll probably throw a cocktail reception when he graduates kindergarten.

Yesterday, he rolled over for the first time. It was basically an act of gravity where holding his head up forced the roll, but there's video proof that I squealed away like Minnie Mouse.  I mean he did do it THREE times in a row and his great grandmother tells me that is very advanced, so there.

But yeah, my apologies to those proud  kindergarten graduate mommas. Post away my friends and write paragraphs about your pride because god knows I'll probably write a book about it by the time that comes. I'm wiser now, ain't no pride like momma pride. I'll make sure to invite you to the gala in about 5 years. 

*it's closer to 4 years now and I just cried.* 

Say no to the dress

It's the Tuesday after a long weekend and I'm going to take one for the proverbial team here, you're welcome.

Ladies, I can't imagine a single one of you has never felt this panic. Well let me assure you that it is not a good idea to try on your wedding dress while home alone with a baby. I never preserved mine and it hangs unprotected in my office closet. So I see her (Annabelle) pretty often and wonder does she? Could she? I daydream about dusting the house in her. Don't worry I wouldn't actually waste such a moment dusting.

Luca was napping, Nick wasn't home and for some reason it seemed like the perfect time. I was already too committed when I remembered it had to go over my head. That might not have always been the case but my memory is protecting my child bearing hips. (How do you say that in past tense, beared? Born? I've been up since a time beginning in 4, I'm not looking it up. Forgive me) Once I realized this was the case I knew how this story would end but I'm so freaking stubborn. So so stubborn.

It took a little convincing to clear the hurdles on my chest but then I felt it. The undeniable catch. We weren't going any farther down and of course we couldn't any longer go back up. The law of motion is what goes up must come down, not vice versa. I knew the panic was moments from setting in so I tried a quick and forceful tug to see if we could escape but obviously I wouldn't have taken you this far if that was the case. I eyed the scissors on my desk but I'm far far far too sentimental to consider that as an actual option.

I almost took a picture but turns out I do have a few ounces of pride left. I peeked down at the baby monitor and quickly calculated how long I had to figure this out before I was stuck in my wedding dress and also trying to care for my child. My sisterneighbor was away so I knew I couldn't call her. I heard the clank of the uhual as our new neighbors unloaded some more of their stuff. I can see it now, hi I'm Chelsea, welcome to the neighborhood. Mind helping me out of this ol' wedding dress here?! Totally casual like no big deal, happens all the time.

Then it got really dramatic like well this is it. I can't breathe but I did love my dress. It will be easy to bury me in it when I DIE RIGHT NOW. That'll show Nick what I think about him playing in a poker tournament on a holiday weekend. But then a little sighing on the monitor reminded me that this wouldn't be how I'll end up on dateline after all and I need to figure my way out asap. I was able to slightly and painfully flatten aforementioned hurdles as I'm imagining a mammogram to do and somehow stretching my arms like the Armstrong himself, I was freed.

Maybe just maybe I can take the stubbornness down a notch or ten.

Good news though, my veil still fits.

I'll be dusting in that later.