The Office

So...this happened last week:

What? No big deal you said? Well, apparently you know nothing about me. First of all, I've never had an office (except the camp office, and that wasn't really mine, and only lasted for the summer). And the idea of sharing an office with my bestie and partner in crime...well...let's just say. We where PUMPED.   We are both working at Keller Park, and get to spend our Tuesdays together, so the church let us convert one of the basement rooms into an office and workroom. (I bet they are glad we are in the basement, because we get a little rowdy.) So here my friends, in pictures, is the story of the transformation.

Before: 

Taking the girls to pick out a paint color. Carrie and I meet each other at Home Depot, and are wearing almost exactly the same outfit. Even funnier? We almost dressed the girls the same too. Maybe we spend too much time together....nah.

Carrie and David doing most of the work. Thank goodness for David and his he man ways. Not only did he tear down and set up a computer lab, fix all the florescent lights in the basement, he carried our massively heavy, dead people desks (I'll explain that later) down the stairs by himself. 

 

Carrie painted the whole room by herself. She's one tough lady. And let me just say, frog tape? Awesome.

Now the fun begins!!

I loaded up all the fun things I could find at the house to pretty up our space. Coffee maker? Check. Funky file boxes? Check. Giant clipboard? Double Check.

So then, Carrie and I went shopping for the perfect desk for us to share. We wanted some sort of table we could put in the middle of the room, so we could sit across from each other and work. Cause we so pretty and we like to look at each other. We couldn't be divided, then I'd be all:

Doctor Who reference? Anyone? Anyone? 

We had a strict budget. We decided we each had $10 to put towards our desk. We visited some thrift stores but nothing. And then, and then, we saw a giant room full of these desks. Like 100 of them. We loved the beautiful curvy legs, and funky detail on the drawers. But they where Oooooold. And beat up. But the longer we looked the more we loved them. Where'd they come from? An orphanage. We where sure. There where little red headed kids singing and mopping the floor and it finally closed down and St.Vincent got all their desks. But when I opened one of the drawers and found old weird stockings I knew it was a nursing home. Which is depressing. I'm sure they're haunted. But guess how much they where? $10 a piece. Perfect. So we searched until we found two of the best ones and popped them in the mini van. 

When we finished for the day, Stella and I posed for a picture:

I went in today and hung some more art. Here's some more detailed pictures! 

Because Carrie calls me Bro. It's funny to me. 

Welcome to our office!

That memo strip thing is crooked, and it's already driving me crazy

Because I believe no room is complete without a funky spray painted bust of an historical figure. 

Coffee and office supplies. My two favorite things.

My side! And yes, that is a picture of Bob Dylan.  

My bookshelf that I plan on filling with binders like my hero Kathy.

And because we're moms, a kid's play corner! With clips on the wall waiting for some beautiful artwork.

Funky chair and a David Badertscher orginal pallet book shelf. 

All put together! It makes me so happy to walk into here!

There she be! Come visit us, there's always coffee and swedish fish.

It's time to take a break...

People always tell us moms that we need to make time for ourselves. That we need to make sure we are taking moments away to keep our sanity. But how do you know it's time? That it's time to leave the baby with someone competent anyone who is available, and go get some coffee and see a movie with blood and swears? Well, here is my top five list:

1. You start to understand Chica from The Sunny Side Up Show on Sprout without any interpretation.


2. When shopping for clothes for yourself you find yourself gravitating to your kid's favorite color. When you get in the dressing room you suddenly exclaim "Everything does NOT have to be pink!"

3. All the cup holders in your car are filled with sippy cups or juice boxes.

4. There are more princess songs playing on your pandora channel than rock 'n roll.

5. You have had to touch someone else's pee, poop or puke more than once in a day.

All of these are true for me today. It's time to get up out of my house and talk to some grown ups. 

Thrift Store Treasures 2

Lucy and I took a trip to the thrift store today and found some treasures AND we got some treasures we ordered online a while ago in the mail today, so I felt like I should probably share all the awesomeness with you.

First of all, I found the best article of clothing I've ever found at a Thrift Store:

Boom. Yes. I will be wearing this everyday of my life. 

I think this will become my new laptop bag. It's such an awesome mustard yellow. 

They had like, 10 of these. I'm not sure why, or why someone thought it was worth $5. I did not buy this.

How great is this desk? It's so pretty. Can't you just imagine a funky chair and a beautiful iMac on it? 

I plan on using this bottle to make my own vanilla extract. We'll see how that goes.

And then I got some awesome treasures from Zulily. Which I love. Great deals and such cute stuff. 

I've been coveting these books since I first saw them. And I'm so glad they arrived in time for Lucy's easter basket!

Eeek! I love Mr.Darcy. 

And finally, my new favorite shoes. Flowers! Bows! SPRING!

What a fun day for us! I'll have to post pictures of the cute little handmade coat I got for Lucy later. I love me some good deals.

A story. Of BFFs, Mini Vans, Cardigans, and Tattoo Parlors

My best friend has been with me through every major milestone in my life for the past 8 years.

 The day I got married she was right beside me. When I went shopping for a house, she looked through it with me. When I found out I was pregnant, she got a picture of the pee stick moments after both those little lines appeared. She watched, coached, cheered, and photographed a human being coming out of me. She's always the first call I make in a crisis. She has been apart of many crazy moments in my life. The time I decided to perm my hair, that one time I got my contact stuck in my eye and had a panic attack, the time I thought Twilight was an awesome movie. So, it's only natural, that when I decided to get a tattoo, I dragged her along. 

First of course, I talked to her about it endlessly. Made her help me print out the design I wanted and tape it to the spot I wanted so I could be sure. 

And then today, we; two moms, pushing thirty, who work together at a small church; buttoned up our cardigans, slipped on our TOMs and drove in a mini van over to the tattoo parlor. 

We sat on the little couch, while I filled out the paperwork. 

C: "Are you really sure? Really really? Forever? This is what you want on you FOREVER?!?!"

A: "Eh, If I don't like it, I'll just get a big clover over it" (inside joke...only Kelli will understand)

C: "It's going to hurt so bad! Ah! Is that a skull?!? Are you really sure?!?!"

A: "I immediately regret bringing you."

C: watching other people get tattooed

A: "You might have to sit outside"

C: "You might be right. Ok, if you really want this, I'm totally here for you. I just want you to be sure. So one day you don't look back and yell at me for not stopping you."

A: "I'm all in baby."

It is nice to have someone along with you, especially during your first tattoo, so you can get pictures like this:

I feel very proud that I did not cry. Or puke. Or pass out. Or swear loudly. It wasn't that bad, and I now plan to get the rest of my body tattooed. 

So here it is:

Isn't He good?

In my last post, I told you how I was using Dawson's Creek as a mind numbing tool. I found this extremely effective. But alas, eventually I always get really sick of Dawson's whining, and Joey's unwillingness to admit that Pacey is way better than all those other losers. And so, it's back to the real world for me.

The truth is, even though God and I have had many a conversations over the past two weeks, I have avoided opening the Word. I'm not really sure why. Maybe I was afraid of what I'd find. That the words I would find would be less then comforting. Maybe I just was tired of being sad. So it was easier to turn everything off, then to face it.

So I stumbled around for a while. Not sure what to read, or where to go. Just knowing that I needed to be in the Word somewhere.

And then I found Psalms 116. Which starts out with this:

"I love the Lord, because he hears my voice"

Man, you are good God. I kept reading to find this loving reminder from my Great Big God:

"The Lord cares deeply when his loved ones die."

Thanks God. For not trying to flood me with theology about why this happened. For not trying to make me understand some great plan for this heartache. But for just reminding me that you care. That you hear me, and you care. You are good. Seriously. I'm glad it's you I'm following, all these other fools have nothing on you.

So my friends, I am doing well. And I've moved from Dawson's Creek to Fringe. Which is way more like real life.

When you share the good news, you have to share the bad.

First, let me share the story:

Disclaimer: I'm sorry if this is too much information. I wanted to share the story, and it's not a very pretty one. You do not have to read this, I will not be offended. 

I went in to the doctors on Thursday for my first prenatal appointment. I was about 9 1/2 weeks. Everything looked good, even though they couldn't find the babys heartbeat. Which is normal, 9 1/2 weeks is a little early to hear the heartbeat.

So Saturday we decided to share the news with the world. We where excited to tell all our friends and family about our new addition.

Unfortunately, Saturday I also noticed I was spotting a little. It was so little, and the doctor told me it may happen after my exam, so I decided to not worry too much about, to wait and call the doctor Monday just to be sure. But Sunday came, and so did more bleeding. I knew something was not quite right. I called and finally got ahold of a doctor, who told me to come into the office Monday to make sure we could find the baby's heartbeat.

Jeff took Lucy to her grandparents, and I called the doctor as soon as they opened. They scheduled an ultrasound for me at 11:30.

As I got ready, and noticed more blood, I think I already knew. I stood in the bathroom crying and reminding God that this was in His hands. "Come on God" I said "You have to handle this, because I cannot."

It was the longest drive to the hospital, and an even longer wait. Luckily, Jeff was able to get out of work and meet me there. They finally ushered me back to the ultrasound room.

Ultrasounds aren't supposed to be like that. It was so quiet. I knew. I couldn't make anything out, but I kept trying to tell myself that no one really could tell what anything was on the ultra sound, especially this early. But then the sweet nurse looked at me, held my arm and said "I'm going to try and grab the doctor before she leaves for lunch, because, I'm so sorry to tell you this, but I can't find baby's heartbeat."

Thats when I started crying.

The rest was a blur, the doctor talking, they needed to take my blood. Those poor nurses who had to try and find my impossible veins, all the while I just cried and cried and laughed as they made jokes about my slippery veins. I cried as I made my next appointment, I cried as I walked to the car. I wept the whole time I drove home. I walked in the door and curled up in my bed and cried some more.

I thought all the things I'm sure every women thinks in this kind of situation.

That I knew something wasn't right from the beginning. It just never felt real. That it was my fault somehow. Maybe it was those extra cups of coffee, those times I forgot my prenatal vitamin, that one time I ate a Caesar Salad.

But luckily, I have a God who doesn't always speak to me in a still small voice. Sometimes it's an "Amber Joy! Are you kidding me?!" (it sounds a lot like my mom...) He said. "No dear. Remember? This was my kid. You told me, that you'd provide the space, and I'd do the putting together. And I did."

Now let me tell you how I'm feeling:

I remember during my crying fit thinking "No! I don't want to be sad about this. I will figure out why this happened, and come out of this stronger."

Psh.

Good luck me.

I've been watching a lot of Dawson's Creek. Do you want to know why? No, it's not because of the amazing story telling that is 90's Teen Drama. It's because it's mind numbing. It literally stops your brain from forming any intellectual thought. (Except maybe "Joshua Jackson is even dreamy in velvet shirts). And that's what I want most of all.

Because I've realized something, and my dear friend reminded me of someone who put it best. They said:

 "We don't have a theology that can handle things like this. Our faith sometimes doesn't explain the awful things that happen in life."

And this is what I realized 3 important things.

One: I will always be a little sad about this. This sucks bad. I don't really have any eloquent way of saying that. This sucks. Up one side and back the other. (Seriously, I've been watching a lot of Dawson's Creek).

Two: I will never figure out why this happened. Scientifically, it makes sense. That the fetus wasn't put together quite right, so it stopped growing. But that does not make sense to me, because my God is so  much bigger than that. He put this baby together, why would he not do it right? That's ridiculous. And no sweet saying, or string of Bible verses, or song lyrics or eloquent speeches from a man with some fancy degree will ever be able to explain this to me to my satisfaction. But you know what? That's OK. I don't understand it, or know why it happened, but I do know, and trust and love the Great Big God who is control of all of it. I know that he knows. This was his kid, from the start, I was just taking care of it for a while, just like every parent. I thought I'd get a little more face time, but I know that God had a plan. I don't get it. It seems really stupid to me (sorry God), but I know he's much greater, and much smarter than I.

Three: I will not come out of this stronger. A little more humble in my own abilities. A little more aware of the blessings in my life. A lot more thankful for these people who do life with me, these friends and family. But I'm not sure I'd say I am stronger for this. I feel a little more broken, but sometimes, that's better.

I've finally stopped crying. I've laughed a little today. I'm feeling more myself.

And so friends, I wanted to write this all because so many of you are praying for us. And I thank you, and ask you to continue. So many have asked if there was anything I needed. And I'd tell you the same thing I told my dear friend. I need you to help me find the joy. I know that you are mourning and crying with me, but now dear friends, I need to find the joy, the laughter. So find that with me.

How Super Nanny Potty Trained My Kid

Potty Training. I know right. If your not a mom, you really don't get how amazing it is to teach another human being not to crap their pants.

It seems so easy. Natural. No one likes to sit in their own feces. Right? Wrong. Lucy was the happiest with poop in her pants. She played so nice and quiet all by herself when she was "dropping the kids off at the pool" and was in no hurry to get cleaned up.

So potty training has not been easy. She actually likes sitting on the potty, has for a long time, she just never seemed to understand the feeling you get before you pee. Or at least, she didn't care enough to pay attention to it.

That is, until we watched Super Nanny.

First of all, any given episode of Super Nanny will either make you feel like Super Mom, or you will start filming your own submission tape. Well the episode we watched had a 3 1/2 year old boy who 1.) refused to go potty and 2.) was a terribly picky eater.



Dear Super Nanny.....

So I decided to take this opportunity to make Lucy watch it with me, and talk about what the little boy did that was "naughty".

She got really into it, and so we decided the next day when she woke up, we would be all done with diapers, and wear Big Girl Panties.

Confession: I was not very motivated to follow through. But Lucy remembered.

So this morning we took off her diaper from the night before and put on panties.

And then she went to the potty. And decided she didn't want her "Dora Seat" (the kid sized seat we have to put on the toilet). And would just hold herself up on the seat.

And then she fell in the potty.

And I didn't even laugh out loud! Or freak out because she was in the dirty potty! I calmly cleaned her up and put her Dora Seat back on and then she

PEED.

Awesome. But not totally new. She's peed occasionally  Usually a coincidence  If you make your kid sit on the potty all day, she'll eventually pee in it.

She sat on it a lot more all day, like every 10 minutes. Totally her own choice. I wondered how long this would last, and was glad she didn't need me to help her each time.

And then.

AND THEN...

We where sitting on the couch together. Lucy, me and Dora. Watching some TV. And Lucy turns to me and says "Hey mom, will you hold Dora for a few minutes while I go pee?"

"Sure kid."

"Thanks." toddles off to the bathroom, sits on the potty.

And then I hear the most beautiful sound.

tinkle. tinkle tinkle.

"MOOOOOM!!! I DID IT!"

And she did. She peed all by herself, she felt it coming and she did it.

Hallelujah. She's LEARNING! I THINK SHE'S GOT IT! BY GEORGE I THINK SHE'S GOT IT!"

This only just happened today, so I may be celebrating and blogging prematurely. But I swear to you the moment I hear the sweet sound of:

"Plop. Plop Plop."

I will be tweeting it. And instagraming a hipster filtered photo of the contents of that big potty. And posting it on facebook and tagging my husband in it.


EDIT: I just got peed on. Sigh.