Sanity Saving Strategies

Here. You make this mess while I clean up these other messes over here.

On the phone. I have no idea where she came up with that one. ha.

Utterly Domestic

I made a goal a few weeks ago that I would make something utterly domestic every week. Which is how I ended up canning. Last week it was tortillas. I have one of these now.

Thanks Flickr!

I am totally sold. I never want to buy tortillas again! That may have something to do with having to drive a round trip total of at least 45 minutes. For tortillas? Nuh uh. Not worth it.

Nothing goes better with fresh tortillas than my mother's salsa and guacamole. But something from my mother's kitchen may have rubbed off on me. I only know how to make salsa in ginormous proportions. (i.e. enough to fill a bathtub. Our master bathtub.)

This week? Using leftovers. I hate leftovers. So does my husband. But I think it is written into the regulations of domesticity that you must be willing and able to use leftovers. Totally lame. But if those are the rules, what can you do?

Monday: Grilled Steak and Cheese Quesadillas with leftover guacamole, Strawberry Lemonade If you make this lemonade I need to warn you. You will thank me, but you will think, "I used to pay $3.00 a refill for this stuff." And then you will think, "I must be saving enough to buy a new pair of shoes." And the you will find, buy, and justify these boots- all because you're saving by making your own lemonade.

Tuesday: Salsa Roast Potatoes, Grilled Garlic Chicken

Wednesday: By now I will need a break from salsa and tortillas. Sesame Ginger Spinach Salad

Thursday:I think Mexican Mozzarella is a great substitution for Swiss cheese. And I still can't face more tortillas. Chicken Cordon Bleu, Rice

Friday: Homemade Sopes with Fresh Cream, Beans

Saturday: Fair Food. Mmmmm... jalapeno nachos and a corn dog. Maybe a funnel cake. Or two.

And we made it. By now whatever is left will see itself down the disposal.

Sunday: French Toast with strawberries

Eat, Drink, and Be Messy!

Pack yer bags!

We're going on a guilt trip.

I hope somebody somewhere was painting a toddler bed Under the Sea turquoise today. You wouldn't want to disappoint this face now would you?



I did my part, and it's almost done. I hacked the artwork from Pottery Barn Kids, the curtain from BGH, the mirror was a thrift store find painted white, and I painted the knobs after hacking some I saw on Etsy. All of it was done for less than the original artwork from Pottery Barn Kids cost. There are a few finishing touches missing. And...oh yeah... that bright blue bed!

Window of Opportunity

Yesterday I explained it this way, and I let my words float around in my head the rest of day. It is not a fully formulated theory, but here goes anyway.

Ahem.

For a woman there is a distinct window of opportunity of when she begins to want a/another child. But you don't know how long that window will be open. The window may close and the desire and pull towards motherhood closes with it. And while it's closed you are content or at least resigned to where you're at. And then the window opens again. Most women will feel the tug and conceive while the window is open. Some even do it when the window is most definitely closed. It often closes during the actual pregnancy, but opens again as they prepare for their child.

With infertility and adoption it doesn't work like that. The window opens. You jump through a series of hoops. You fill out some documents. The window closes. You find contentment with the lot you have received or at least resigned to it. The window opens. More hoops. More documents. The window closes. Sometimes slamming shut on your hand. Sometimes you wish it would just stay shut. And every time the window opens you become more and more acutely aware that it will be closing again. The scary part is that you don't know how often the window will be opening for you, so when it's open you feel a sense of urgency and panic.

Last night I was given a statistic.

Less than 1% of ALL pregnancies will end in placement/adoption.

Does that even begin to give you perspective? What a miracle my Scrunch is? Do I believe a person is deserving of two miracles? While the window is open, I don't have a choice but to.

My mother says that blogging is my therapy. Does that scare you? Trust me. Not as much as it scares me to think of you as my therapist.

Bottled Up

I have so much to say that when it comes out it sounds like a really long run on sentence. And then I can't write. Anything that makes. Any. Sense.

I've got all these parenting theories on my Scrunch worked out in my brain, I have been working on projects for her room, my blood pressure has remained quite steady considering the political stuff going on, and one of my camellias got a sunburn today. Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you I bought two camellias. And got a front porch love seat for my birthday. Pretty much everything I purchase from now through September is written off as "It's for my birthday." Kind of like the roving I bought for Spin Night tomorrow and the horseback riding lesson I scheduled for Monday, and don't forget the boots we're picking out on Saturday. I'm going to spare you the adventures in freezer corn and banana streusel muffins. Even though they both rocked. I can cook. Who knew? And to mix it up we're doing the Clomid thing again. There I said it. I'm on Clomid and am almost done and you didn't even know. Don't feel bad. No one knew. My husband only just remembered that I was even taking it. Seeeee? LOTS TO SAY! I hate this because I know it's going to come spewing out at around two o'clock in the morning and I wont be able to sleep until I write something.

Something.

Facesuck

I have new points.

Fourteen people have confirmed me as their relative.

Two people think I'm amazing, but I have to click forty seven times to find out who they are.

I've been challenged to more quizzes than my sister gives out in an entire school year.

Another random person I don't know has asked me to be their friend. I said no, I don't know you!

It keeps calling me "My liege!" and I don't know what they are talking about.

Everyone has beaten my score at any game they have attempted/will attempt, since I've never played any of the damn games!

Uh huh. I am currently in the hate portion of my love/hate relationship with Facebook.