Very Important Update

Conversations I've had this weekend:

We don't eat shoes.
No, don't eat it.
I'm serious. We don't eat shoes.
Stop!
(Baby keeps eating the shoe.)

Don't shut the door. Don't do it!
I mean it. Keep the door open.
(Babies shut the door and laugh on the other side.)

Say 'Aunt Monica.' Say it! Say 'Aunt Monica!'
Baby: Bob.

Why aren't you wearing a shirt?

Why are you eating your toes?

A little love.

It could be the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

When I first walked in to the house I just bought, my jaw dropped. I walked around in awe and I didn't want to leave it.

It has a spiral staircase, an upstairs bedroom that could be a cute craft room, a basement that's not totally creepy, and possibly the most beautiful woodwork I've ever seen.

The house was built in 1900. Holy beautiful, Batman!

The homeowners actually lived in it and took pretty good care of it. It wasn't a rental property, which is important.

I was kind of in shock that I could actually afford it. I went home after I walked through it the first time and crunched the numbers.

Hey, it could actually work.

Sign me up!

I didn't even try to have a poker face. I loved it instantly.

My home buying process has been kind of messy. The word messy might actually be an understatement. There was a house in my price range with a hole in the basement wall big enough for a tiger to hide in. Then there was that house that shook when my Dad jumped up and down in it.

Sigh.

Then there was one with a bad roof, a cute one with a bathroom floor that was about to cave in, the basement with the creepy rape room, the knob and tube wiring running rampant in this town, and one house that probably had dead bodies hiding in it somewhere.

House hunting in my price range is rough, let me tell you.

Then there was the house I tried to buy and backed away from, which involved lawyers, anxiety medicine, and vacationing out of the country with possible legal doom awaiting me when I got back.

Ha, ha. I don't think I've ever done anything the easy way in life. Why start now?

I don't expect something perfect, but I wanted to find something livable. A good roof is important, a few bedrooms would be nice to grow into, a designated craft room would be nice, and a fenced in backyard for my fur child is ideal.

This house was the best one I've seen yet. Through all the messiness over the past few months, I can definitely say the wait was worth it.

I have a beautiful house!

I don't mind tackling a few projects. Carpet needs to be ripped out of one of the bedrooms. I'm not a cat person, but I can smell cats a mile away.

Ew. That carpet has to go.

I'm hoping there's wood underneath. If that's the case, I'll sand that bedroom and the one beside it, then stain the floors to match the rest of the house.

As much as I love the grandma rose wall paper in one of the bedrooms, that's probably going to go away, too.

I'm also going to take down some really, really ugly 'closets' and see if I can make it look better. I call them 'closets' because, really, they're just atrociousness that someone tried to paint to look normal.

You can't hide atrocious. You just can't.

Could I (and by I, I mean my Dad) bring the washer and dryer upstairs, and hide it in a closet in one of the bedrooms?

Hmm.

Like I said, I don't mind projects. That spiral staircase could use some love, too. With some cleaning and a little love, this house is going to be a pretty amazing place to live.

Hooray, I have a house!

My realtor sent me a text message yesterday morning that was pretty cool. She said she wanted to visit me in a year to see what I've done with the house.

I've been waiting years for a house to pour a little love into. This is really the only thing I've wanted since college.

Hooray!

(Bonus points: My realtor knows my family pretty well. When I went in to sign the papers, she told me stories about my grandparents, who died when I was young. It's cool hearing about them because I don't remember them. Small world, right?)

Great advice.

I had a great time today at my leadership class.

(Bonus points: I didn't get sick in the middle of this session! Let's not talk about what happened last class period, haha.)

Anyway, there was some great advice given today.

Quotes:

"Don't be the judge, jury and executioner in 15 seconds."

"Don't do something you can't undo."

"It's neither good nor bad. It is what it is."

"You are imperfect and wired for struggle."

"If you're going to run with the big dogs, you can't piss with the puppies." (Haha!)

Chairs

There are certain things that make you feel like an adult.

Eating Easter candy for breakfast the week after Easter is one of them. Someone else (not naming names, here, people I work with) told me that one time, he ate an entire sleeve on Thin Mints for breakfast.

Yea, adulthood!

I had one of those grown up moments recently.

My office chair has seen better days. It was about time it went to that big place in the sky where worn out office chairs go (or maybe it went to someone else, I don't care).

Over the weekend I went shopping for a new chair.

I wanted the $500 one, but you know, I'll buy that when I officially make it in life (whatever that means).

I took my time, went to different stores, and sat my butt in a lot of chairs.

The super expensive ones have really high backs, and when you're super short like me, that kind of chair doesn't make a huge difference.

The one I bought is pretty cute. Not over the top, but comfortable.

Fancy pants!

I walked into my office this morning, looked at my new chair, and thought, aw, what a grown up.

:)

Excellent life advice.

Things I've said over the past few days:

"I don't give Jesus money very often."
"That's okay, he's dead."
"No he's not, he rose again!"

Bffs shouldn't sit by each other in church. Ha, ha.

On babies:

Me: "We don't play with our potatoes."
Mom: "Some of us do. Didn't you get the memo?"

"Let's not eat a shoe."

Mom: "We don't throw our potatoes on the ground."
Me: "Well, some of us do. You didn't get the memo?"
Mom: "I wrote the memo."

Words of wisdom on Easter Sunday:

Mom to Penny Pug: "Don't bark at people who bring food."

I think that's excellent life advice.

Til you shine.

Happy Easter!

I've been on a country music kick lately. I normally skip over the live songs on my playlist, but tonight I listened to Brad Paisley's "Letter to Me" live.

I love it!

He talks in the middle part of it, and it's kind of hilarious. He talks about how people say that high school is the best part of your life, and to enjoy it.

Then he says something like, if that's true, just shoot me.

Ha, ha.

He continues: Now, college...Hang in there, kids, it gets better, I promise.

:)

(Note: I'm not trying to say anything bad about high school. It was fine. College, on the other hand, sucked for me, and was nowhere near the best time of my life. Funny, it eventually has a way of working out.)

Lyrics:

"Letter To Me"

If I could write a letter to me

And send it back in time to myself at 17

First I'd prove it's me by saying look under your bed

There's a Skoal can and a Playboy no one else would know you hid

And then I'd say I know its tough

When you break up after seven months

And yeah I know you really liked her and it just don't seem fair

All I can say is pain like that is fast and it's rare

And oh you got so much going for you going right

But I know at 17 it's hard to see past Friday night

She wasn't right for you

And still you feel like there's a knife sticking out of your back

And you're wondering if you'll survive

You'll make it through this and you'll see

You're still around to write this letter to me

At the stop sign at Tomlinson and Eighth

Always stop completely don't just tap your brakes

And when you get a date with Bridgett make sure the tank is full

On second thought forget it that one turns out kinda cool

Each and every time you have a fight

Just assume you're wrong and daddy is right

And you should really thank Mrs. Bringman

She spend so much extra time

It's like she sees the diamond underneath

And she's polishing you 'til you shine

And oh you got so much going for you going right

But I know at 17 it's hard to see past Friday night

Tonight's the bonfire rally

But you're staying home instead because if you fail Algebra

Mom and dad will kill you dead

Trust me you'll squeak by and get a C

And you're still around to write this letter to me

You've got so much up ahead

You'll make new friends

You should see your kids and wife

And I'd end up saying have no fear

These are nowhere near the best years of your life

I guess I'll see you in the mirror

When you're a grown man

P.S. "go hug Aunt Rita every chance you can"

And oh you got so much going for you going right

But I know at 17 it's hard to see past Friday night

I wish you'd study Spanish

I wish you'd take a typing class

I wish you wouldn't worry, let it be

I'd say have a little faith and you'll see

If I could write a letter to me

To me

Sighs.

I've been keeping a close eye on the comments from the article I posted about yesterday.

Most of the comments have the same theme: Why do you need medicine? Why can't you just get better on your own? Why don't you just do yoga? Or breathe differently? Or exercise? Or take walks to get fresh air?

These comments make me uneasy.

While I was never formally diagnosed with anxiety or depression, taking an anxiety medicine (the same one featured in the story, as it so happens) has helped me in a huge way.

You can't get over it on your own. It's not possible.

No one deserves to live in a prison they create for themselves in their own head.

I've had people say hurtful stuff to me for other health problems in the past.

Stuff like:

If you keep going back to doctors they're going to keep finding things wrong with you because they want to make money.

You don't want to get better.

You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?

These comments are ignorant. To some they might be harmful.

I'm old enough and wise enough now to ignore them. When I hear people talking in public, or online, about a specific problem I have, I don't get offended and go home crying.

I used to.

Like the author said, I take Sertraline because it makes me feel better.

That's it.

In 2015, we shouldn't be having the discussion of whether depression/anxiety medicine is worth it or not, and we definitely shouldn't be having that conversation with people who've never experienced depression and anxiety.

Sigh.

-----

On the subject of health, I had just about the grossest flu ever last week.

And I got it after I Lysoled everything in my casa after the rest of my family had it.

You don't realize how amazing drinking water is until you can't. I had a big glass of ice water beside my bed, and I remember laying there thinking, you know, when I can actually keep stuff down, I'm going to drink water like there's no tomorrow.

Some people want world peace. Some people want power, fame, a ton of money.

I just want ice water. I'm pretty easy to please, I think.

Anyway, I'm still rocking the crackers, water, and 7UP diet at the moment.

Solid food doesn't sound appetizing, still.

Another sigh.