OHMIGOD CUSTOM SHELVING!!!

Ho. Lee. Hell.

Today I experienced for the first time the organizational mecca that is THE CONTAINER STORE. (cue angels singing)

Seriously. I had always had a sneaking suspicion that I would love that place, and today while I was wandering the sidewalks of Clarendon (and cursing the fact that I thought boots with heels were a good choice for the day) I wandered right into the Container store. And it was all so beautiful that I came very close to sitting down in the middle of the store and crying. I am not even kidding. I am that hormonal that containers and shelves could make me cry.

I am not an organized person by any means. But the thought of everything being organized and labeled and neat and tidy... I just... I can't even form sentences when I think of it, apparently.

When I worked at Starbucks, they called me the organizational Nazi. I maintain that there was nothing facist about me, I just wanted everything to be labeled and placed in a way that expedited the making of delicious hot and cold beverages. Also muffins. And scones. And a variety of other pastries. No but seriously, I would look at, say, the cabinet underneath the drive-thru register. And I would plan out the best use of that space. Then I would pull all the crap out of there, clean it well, and then fully stock it with the items I thought fit best. I would then leave it there a few days, to give it a chance to evolve and to make sure it was as functional as possible, and then once it had settled into a truly useful arrangement, I would draw a diagram showing what went where, and tape it to the inside of the cabinet door. And then I would obsessively make sure that it remained well stocked. I know, I'm weird, but I adored stocking shelves. People would groan and complain about unpacking the order each week but I relished opening up those boxes and putting things where they belonged, watching those shelves just fill up to par. Don't even get me started with how much I loved restocking the retail shelves.

But truly, if people had cooperated with me more, I think it actually would have really made our store flow much better. There were a few baristas that were on board, though most just laughed at me. I did not care. I organized the shit out of that cabinet. And the other one. And all the fridges. And the shelves in the back. And yeah. Loved every second of it. I also loved counting the money and making sure it matched up with the correct totals for each day, but that's a story for another time.

Today I am all about organizing. Which, as I mentioned, is pretty hilarious because in my day-to-day life I am the most scatterbrainy type of person there is. My desk is one big pile of crap, my bedroom is covered in laundry, the dining room table is a dumping ground for mail and things I bring in from the car.

I think if I had custom organizational tools from The Container Store I would be set. Everything would be nice and beautiful and shiny and there would be sunlight and rainbows and I would magically have hardwood floors instead of ugh wall-to-wall carpet in the entire damn house and angels would sing and birds would tie ribbons in my hair and also I would make dinner every night wearing pearls.

Also, baby would sleep for more than 20 minutes at a time and I would no longer have to choose between taking a nap and writing a love letter to organization.

ps. This is a cupcake container.It is a CONTAINER for a sINGLE CUPCAKE and when I saw this I nearly peed myself for the sheer beauty and holy CRAP WHO THINKS OF A CONTAINER FOR A CUPCAKE?!?!?!?!

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Guilt Free Laziness

Ahhhh, laziness. Lying about on the couch watching endless episodes of Law&Order. That describes my winter all too well.

A couple weeks ago I found out that the recent bout of laziness and crybabyish behavior is not my fault! I've got a thyroid problem. haHA take THAT you people that want me to be productive! Not only did I just have a baby (yeah, okay it was almost 4 months ago now and my "I had a baby" excuse is wearing thin) but now I've got an actual medical condition that gives me leave to be tired and sad! Hurrah?

But all good things must come to an end. I've got my prescription for whatever it is that my thyroid isn't making, and I should be getting much better very soon indeed. Goodbye reruns of Raymond, hello half-marathon training.

Speaking of which. Training is going well. I did my first long run (holy hell, I managed to do SIX miles!) on Saturday while Nate watched baby (thanks again, Nate) and I realized how much EASIER it is to run when you're not pushing a huge jogging stroller. It was glorious.

In the past few days, baby has decided that sleeping is overrated. Seems like she thinks that a couple of 20-minute naps during the day will suffice. At night? Oh, sleeping at night is optional now for all the cool kids. At least thats what the past two disjointed nights have told me. Although maybe it was just a temporary thing? I hate to jinx myself, but it's now 11:13 and Finn's been asleep since like 9, so maybe she'll actually...

Aw, crap. She definitely just started crying.

Me and my damn big mouth.

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Saturday the 14th

So yesterday was Valentines day. We don't overdo Valentine's day here. We say "I love you" and we plan to make a nice romantic dinner but then we end up eating quesadillas at 4:30pm because we skipped lunch and then we're really not hungry for dinner and so we just skip dinner until we're really hungry at like 11pm and then just make some noodles. Then we eat ice cream and watch all the shows we tivoed during the week.

Actually, there WAS a bit of excitement last night. As we sat there watching Thursday's episode of Kath & Kim, we heard this BANG! come from the general area of the kitchen. "What in the hell was that?", Nate asked. I did not know. I said it sounded like a bird flew into a window or something. We dismissed it with a "That was weird." and kept watching TV. A bit later we decided to have some ice cream. So we paused the show (God, I'm spoiled with this DVR business. Can you believe I actually grew up with no TV? And now I get all pissed if I have to watch something live and sit through the commercials) and Nate went over to serve up the ice cream. I stayed on the couch, because well somebody had to keep the couch warm. And from the kitchen I hear a "What the...oh man."

When I went over to survey the scene, this is what I saw-

Yeah, that's an exploded can of Coke. In the freezer.

When I was making the quesadillas that afternoon at around 4:30, I decided I wanted a Coke with mine. And since we didn't have any refrigerated, I grabbed one out of the drawer and stuck it in the freezer to cool it down real quick while my quesadilla cooked. But then I forgot about it. And I grabbed a Sam Light. And drank THAT with my quesadilla. While I was eating, a friend called with some very exciting news, and so by the time I'd finished eating, I'd just completely forgotten about the Coke.

So that explains the bang of when turned out NOT to be a bird flying into a window. And the really funny thing is, this isn't the first time I've exploded a can of Coke. Except the first time it was in my car, and it was because it got too hot. And let me tell you. A car full of exploded coke that is left to bake in the North Carolina sun in an area thats known to be full of those tiny little ants? Not so much fun when you come back to it three days later. Very full of tiny ants, and stickiness everywhere. This is gonna be a cakwalke to clean up, comparatively.

But we had last Thursday's episode of The Office to get back to, so we just served up the ice cream, left the freezer full of coke slushie, and settled back on the couch.

Fiona slept through it all. She fell asleep at like 9pm last night, and slept in her little bouncy chair till like 2am when we finally moved her. Poor little sickie.

Valentine's day is over-rated, y'all.

French Silk ice cream, however- is amazing.

On our first Valentine's day together, Nate staged an elaborate setup with roses, and Hershey's kisses, and a teddy bear, and blah blah... I later made fun of the teddy bear and now on our 4th Valentine's day all I get is ice cream, tv shows, and exploding coke. I think I lucked out.

Better than a teddy bear, any day.

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Oops.

Baby is finally sleeping. Poor thing's had a rough day. Not only is she still sick, but she rolled off the couch this morning (I left her there for only 3 seconds, I swear! I thought she would be fine!) and then when she was asleep in her swing and I was making a sandwich I knocked a peach off the counter and it hit her right in the head. PLUS I had to suck the boogs out of her nose again. AND I had the nerve to try and give her a soothing vapor bath.

Baby: 0
Horrible Abusive Momma: 4

I did feel pretty bad about the couch thing. I mean, she was totally fine, but poor Nate nearly had a heart attack, he was so upset by the entire thing. He was on the phone dealing with the hospital billing people (who ARGH still are giving us crap about the bills from when we went to have baby, and I was trying to find a bill they sent us, which is why I left her there in the first place), and he RAN into the living room and was all "OHMIGODSHEFELLOFFTHECOUCH!!!!"

I ran in, saw that she was okay. She stopped crying the second we picked her up. Nate needed to sit down and breathe, he was so worked up. I mentioned to him that he would be a wreck the first time she falls down the stairs, and he looked up at me with this terrified look and says "that happens?"

Yeah. Especially if she is anything like me. Queen of falling UP the stairs. Duchess of the broken wrist. Empress of the separated over to the side pinkie toe. I'm living proof that you can get pretty banged up and still be generally okay.

The peach to the head was just funny. Especially since she was asleep in her swing and when the peach hit her she just kinda looked up at me like "What the hell, dude?"


This video is from before the horrific fall. And yes. We still have not put away the Christmas garland and lights on the mantle. We happen to enjoy the ambiance of the glowing lights, thankyouverymuch. Anyways, enjoy laughing baby. She likes stinky feet, apparently.

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Sick annnnd sick.

It's Wednesday. We've had a cold since Sunday. I'm so over having a cold. Unfortunately, I still have it.

Poor baby. She must think I've turned into some sort of brain-devouring alien, and I want to pull said brain out through her nose like the Egyptians did. Except instead of a hook, I use the dreaded NOSE SUCKY BULB.

NOOOOOO! Leave my brain alone!!!!!!!!!!!!!1!!

Seriously, I think Nate can hear the screams from work.

Today we are GOING OUT! To the grocery store, if we can take the excitement. The amounts of mucus have prevented me from doing much of anything (up to and including getting dressed. I managed a t-shirt this morning, and that's it. We're not a naked house, we're more of a "pants and shirts optional" house. I mean it, too. I'm sitting in the living room and I can see no less than 3 pairs of abandoned pants. Of course, I fully intend to put on pants before I leave for the store. I'll even go super formal and put on SHOES!)

Where was I. Oh yes, grocery store. I need to buy some food because I've sent Nate to work with PB&J sandwiches for lunch for the last two days and I'm fairly certain that he is NOT actually seven years old. Plus, all the bread I have left is one end. And nobody wants that.

Made cookies the other night. I did not take a picture of the outcome, which is unfortunate. It was pretty funny. Ever tried to make cookies without adding flour? Doesn't actually work out all that well. In my defense, they were oatmeal cookies, and I did think it weird that there was no flour in the recipe, but then I figured that there was just enough oatmeal that it took flour's place. Which turned out not to be correct. As I discovered when I went to pull out the first batch of cookies and saw instead a tray covered in one massive gloppy glop of melty cookie dough. Sigh. And just when I thought my baking catastrophes were behind me. I was all Betty Crockery, baking cookies while Fiona watched me from the swing, thinking "Aw, isn't this nice, she'll grow up with great memories of me baking cookies and blah blah homemakery stuff" and I'm cleaning up as I go so there's no big mess when I'm finished, and everythings going great and the timer dings and I open the oven and..."shit." (Betty Crock of)

So, not so much.

Ah, well. I tried.

Good lord, mama. This pedicure is older than I am. Get your ass to a nail salon once in awhile.

The horrible pit bull obviously has plans to eat the baby. Also, looks like baby is already addicted to the internets.

Oh noes. Puppy will eat me?

It's okay, I get it. I AM deliciously adorable.

Aw, crap. I swore I wouldn't do the photo captions where the baby is talking. And now I have. Sorry. My deepest apologies. But I'm still not changin' em.

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