Oops, I Did it Again.

So, anyways. Let’s get down to the nitty gritty.

(Ok- in order to truly “get it” the way I do, you really need to hear it with the right accent. Nachoooooo!)





One of my friends that I met here (the illustrious Regina who was the mastermind behind the Friday Fibre Friends) moved back to the States last month. She truly has been a bright light for me out here- always upbeat, funny, a fantastic fiber artist and an all-around wonderful person. I will definitely miss her, but I know that she and I will remain friends and I know I’ll see her again when we’re back Stateside.

She emailed me not too long ago and mentioned that hopefully we can do the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival together one of these years (and then she said maybe I can be pregnant again for it…..yeah Regina….because that was the best part of it the last time.)

Once I pulled my eyes out from my skull after the biggest eye roll ever in the history of man, my reaction was, ummm….YES PLEASE! My sister, Lyteyz, and I had so much fun last year and adding Regina in the mix will just make for one heck of a ca-raaa-zy party. There will be laughter and fun and wool and alpaca and lots of fingering……yarns. (TEEHEE!)

Oh yes- the MDSW festival was ah-ma-zing, but being pregnant and being there isn't on my list of "things-to-do-when-I-get-back-home." I’m pretty sure we’re setting our cap at 2 babies, so by the time I get to go back to MDSW, either we'll be past that milestone, or this is going on record as the longest pregnancy EVER.

Wait. What's that? Oh yes. I'm preggers.

AGAIN.

Oh dear Lord. The whale farts. They've returned.


After the initial shock wore off (and the gas cloud cleared) when we first found out (and no, it wasn’t unplanned- we’re at an age and stage in life where we felt like we should pop them out as quickly as possible- pew pew! But still….holy crap….I’m pregnant!?!), we’re finally settling into the idea that we’ll be parents of two soon. Two under two. Oh man. Please excuse me while I throw up scream pass out fart all of the above.

Needless to say, these last few months have been quite the emotional roller coaster for me.

We found out mid-July, the night before we went on holiday to Melbourne (which I still need to blog about). The next day at the airport, the roller coaster started to derail. I went to the restroom before boarding the plane and saw what every pregnant woman dreads seeing when they go the bathroom- especially a pregnant woman who has suffered a loss before. Who knew that such a small amount of blood could turn a world upside down?

Needless to say, our Melbourne trip wasn't the greatest vacation we've ever had. Instead of touring the city, I got pretty intimate with the Melbourne’s Women’s hospital. We got a scan while there, but instead of reassuring us, it actually made us panic more. When we got home, we scheduled another sonogram for one week after our initial scan. That one wasn't very reassuring, either. The very next day, my dad died.

Happy birthday to me.

So, I was battling jet lag, morning sickness, pregnancy fatigue, and a jet lagged baby while traveling all the way across the world, without my Mister there to be my rock, on top of dealing with the possibility that I may have another miscarriage (I was spotting again) and, that icing on the cake, my dad just died.

You guys- I was not in the best place- emotionally, physically, spiritually. Dark clouds, indeed.

I am so very thankful for my friend Ronda who was truly a Godsend for me during this time. Without her, I would have been oh so lonely and may have murdered a family member or two. (Everybody deals with grief in different ways, but sometimes people need to remember they aren’t the only ones grieving- just something to think about if and when any of you lose a loved one…)

I tend to internalize my grief. I become stoic and put on a mask of calmness when internally there is a hurricane brewing. While working on getting things in order for my dad, I was internally preparing myself for the worst- trying to steel my heart against the searing pain I knew was inevitable. I was angry that I was having morning sickness when I was going to lose this pregnancy soon, and why was I pregnant, anyway? I really didn’t want this baby so things just better hurry up and end so that I could stop feeling so nauseated and I could get on with my life.

I really couldn’t wait to get back home. I missed my Mister terribly and I knew he was going crazy not being there with us and especially not being able to take care of me during the incredibly long journey back home. Thankfully, there were many people along the way that helped me with my luggage and carry-on. They saw a frazzled mom with a baby strapped to her front struggling with just getting on the plane- they had no clue I was 2 months pregnant and had just buried my dad. Those people really were answers to prayers!

Still, there were more prayers to be answered. Namely, how was I going to be able to handle another loss so soon after losing my dad? It wasn’t until a couple weeks after I got back to Oz that we were able to get another ultrasound- the one I knew would give me closure one way or the other. Either we would see a heartbeat, or we wouldn’t.

Well, much to my surprise, not only was that little heart pumping away, but our little fighter was bouncing around and waving as if to say, “I’m still here mama! WHEEEEEEE! You need to try this sometime!”

Seeing that little baby in there untied the knot that had been choking my heart ever since I first saw that cruel, red monster that day at the airport. Breath started to slowly fill my lungs once again and I knew I could start focusing on accepting that I was indeed pregnant instead of trying to convince myself that it would be better if I wasn’t.

There’s still a lot of stuff I’m dealing with (and a lot of it has to do with being pregnant….let’s just say pregnancy hormones and I don’t really get along, but more on that later), but, as I said last time, this has let some light break through those dark clouds that have been hovering around me as of late.

Last time around, I blogged so intermittently because I was thiiiiis close to having a nervous breakdown about our upcoming move. This time around, we’re not moving with a newborn (RIGHT, MISTER?!? Because I WILL kill you this time!), so hopefully I’ll be much more present from here on out.

So. Wow. I didn’t realize how freeing it would feel to get all that out. I still have some knots on my heart that need to be untied and some clouds that need to be chased away. But, I must say that I am indeed looking forward to this coming March. It’ll be interesting to see if our new addition will arrive on his/her daddy’s birthday, but I think it’s a very good sign that it’s coming during the month its mother is the most happy. Now, all I have to do is survive these next 6 months…..

Oh dear Lord. Please excuse me. I think I need to fart again.

Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand Six Hundred Minutes

Thank you all for all of your kind words and thoughts during this tough time- I truly appreciate it. It has been a tough time for me lately and, unfortunately, my dad’s death wasn’t the beginning but just icing on the cake, as it were. It’s been a tough year, really. Well, a tough couple years, actually, but this past year has been especially trying, I must admit.

Today marks the one year anniversary of our move to Australia. I can’t believe it’s been a whole year that we’ve been Down Under. I can’t believe Little Mister is already a year old- where did the time go?

And that’s part of the problem. I’m truly not sure where the time has gone because I have felt like I’ve been living in a cloud for the past year and these past two months have been the cloudiest of the bunch. Sure, there have been times when the sun would break through the clouds and I’d have moments of light, laughter, and joy, but unfortunately those sunny days have been few and far between as of late and I’m starting to look like sun-deprived Gollum. Metaphorically- in my heart- I mean. I’m too darn really, really, ridiculously good looking to look like him in real life. I mean, I have at least five teeth, so come on.

Well, there has been more stuff going on in these last couple months than just dealing with my dad’s passing. Yes, it’s added to the clouds, but it’s also the reason some light is starting to break through once again. It’s quite life changing, quite honestly, so I’ll share it all with you in the upcoming week. That’s one thing I want to do to start letting the light shine again- blogging more. I’ve not been able to see the funny in life recently, but yet when I sit down and start letting the words flow on paper, somehow the funny, no matter how small or absurd, sneaks in there and I need to see and feel that again.

One bright spot this past year has always been Little Mister. Even in those very very VERY sleep deprived days, he’s always managed to make us smile and laugh. I’m happy to report that, as of our return from New Mexico last month, he’s FINALLY been sleeping through the night. You know, God promised that He’d not give us more than we can handle and I honestly believe that He knew I couldn’t handle more sleep deprivation on top of everything else lately so He miraculously let him start sleeping through the night as soon as we returned home. It could be the bourbon I’ve been sneaking in his sippy cup at night, but I choose to believe it was answered prayer.

So, once again, thank you all for your kindness. Here’s hoping this one year anniversary marks the beginning of some bright, sun-shining days. Whatever these days may bring, I think I’m ready to attack it Gangnam Style. Because, really, if I could dance as awesomely as that, I could conquer the world.




(Am I the only one who, when he says, "Heeeeeey sexay laday!" feels like he's speaking directly to me? It's like my own, personal Korean love song and it makes me feel beautiful, man. *sniff*)

Whisper a Prayer

When I was 9, I was the female lead in my first play- it was THE play- the one that infected me with the acting bug. It was the Christmas play at our church and it was a pretty big deal. I was so excited, I memorized the entire play, not just my lines. I loved all the songs and tried my hardest to get the moves right for the dance numbers, but as my old VHS copy of the play proves, I am the only 9 year old who looks like she’s having a seizure while moving her arms in a circle along to a strange beat that no one else can hear.

Since I was the female lead, I had the high honor of having a musical solo towards the end of the play. The song was called, “Whisper a Prayer,” and it was about how close baby Jesus was to us- the three friends who were looking for the King- so close that we could have whispered a prayer and he’d have heard it.

Whisper a prayer, Jesus is there. He’s just a whisper away….

Now that I’m an adult, I have found a different truth to that song. Right now, I’m not in first century Bethlehem where I could be right around the corner from baby Jesus where he’d be so close to me that I could whisper a prayer and he could hear me. Right now, I’m an adult and am going through a rough patch in life and sometimes I’m not strong enough to verbalize my prayer. Sometimes all I can do is whisper my prayer through the tears and find comfort that He is still close enough to hear me.

I was going to tell y’all about my trip to Melbourne and the Australian Sheep and Wool Festival, but that’s a story for another time. This story starts on the morning of my birthday, which in Australia is always a day ahead of my US birthday.

I was startled awake with urgent texts and skype calls from my sister. At first I thought she was just really excited to remember my birthday was “today” rather than “tomorrow” her time. However, a happy birthday was not on the docket for me this year.

My dad was rushed to the hospital and was currently unconscious after telling my brother he “wasn’t feeling well” just a few hours earlier. I thought, “Oh dad. You’ll be ok. You’ve pulled through lots of things before and this will be no different.”

The news from my brother kept coming back, more and more negative. If he did wake up, he’d most likely lose the ability to move. He might be a vegetable. He wasn’t responding to treatments. He wasn’t going to make it past the next 24 hours.

Then, the news that no one is ever truly prepared for: He’s gone.

It happened so quickly and unexpectedly. My big strong daddy- the man who taught me to play basketball and how to drywall a house ,the man who promised to protect me if anyone ever tried to do anything to me, the man who couldn’t wait to get a tattoo of his first grandson’s name on the empty space on his arm- was gone.

It was 5 hours from the time I woke up to the time I was at the airport boarding the plane to New Mexico with Little Mister. It was another 2 days before I made it home. Travel from Australia is difficult, to say the least.

It’s been a whirlwind ever since. I volunteered to write his eulogy which was one of the most emotionally difficult things I’ve ever had to write. My dad loved to laugh so I had to include his humor in there, but the fact remains that I had to write about my dad in the past tense. How can this be?

It’s now been a week since his funeral and Little Mister and I are still Stateside so that I can hopefully get the ball rolling to ensure my grandmother is taken care of. She’s 92 and has survived all five of her sons. My daddy was the baby of the family. She’s not doing well and I’m sad to know she most likely won’t be around much longer, especially since I don’t think I’ll be able to make the trip back here when the time comes.

So, I’ve been whispering prayers. Whispering for strength through the travels alone with my now one year old son. Whispering for the words to pay homage to my dad when wrapping up a whole life in five minutes is next to impossible. Whispering for the wisdom to choose the right caretakers for my grandmother. Whispering for guidance in my now fatherless future.

Guys, I could really use some extra prayers to bolster my whispers. Especially in light of the long journey back home to Australia at the end of this week. I so wish my Mister could have come with us and I can’t wait to get back to him. I so wish that many things could be different right now.

I so wish my daddy was still here. I really miss him.

What's Up?

Testing. Testing. Is this thing on?

Hey, y'all. Just wanted to pop in here to put those old rusty typing skills to the test and to say, HIIIIII! (as well as, What's going on, Linda Perry?)

How is it that I have tons to say and then leave for a month (or so) without so much as a, "I'm super busy but will be back soon!!" I mean, it's really bad when you forget your password to your blog. (Well, almost forget. I'm happy to report that my old grey cells are indeed working.)

So. Hi.

Ummm....I have soooo much to tell you. Like how potty training is going and how that darn poop manged to get me with a sneak attack. Or how Geanie and Meanie have a thing or two to say about how I ran (RAN!!) a 10K two Sundays ago. Or how I haven't yet unraveled Little Mister's blanket all the way just quite yet because I had an intense need to make something RIGHT NOW and have a finished object with which to soothe my despondent spirit. The result of which is a collection of THREE shawls (What??!? I know, right!?), a pair of infant mittens, 4 Batman hats (WHAT?!?!?!?! I KNOW, RIGHT???), a bookmark, a pillow, and a partridge in a pear tree. Well, maybe not that last one, but I did finish something that's been haunting me for a long time now. I'm talking about the mother of all UFOs. Something that I needed to finish prior to attending the Alice Springs Beanie Festival. (Yet another blog post!)

WHEW. I's been busy, y'all.

So, now that I have gotten a lot off my chest crochet-wise and have overcome that despondent spirit (not all of which is due to Little Mister's blanket...at least I don't think that's why I was *thiiiis* close to a panic attack on my way to Target...), I think I can finally let y'all know what's been going on.

HOWEVER. Not tonight. (neener neener.)

Until next time...

Stupid Mickey

I am despondent, people. DESPONDENT I SAY! Life has lost all meaning and the unicorns are farting in grayscale. It’s so bad that I made a fart joke and barely even cracked a smile. DESPONDENT.

At first this funk started with the conclusion of the book I was reading- The Fault in Our Stars. What started out in a witty, irreverent fashion couldn’t keep up the lighthearted feel forever- like I said- a teen with stage IV cancer.

I finished reading it the day after I started and so began this whole, “Woe is me,” outlook. It’s a curse of reading for me. I get so wrapped up into the characters that I forget about real life for a bit. I don’t call it “escapism” for nothing, folks.

Anyway, my escapism into a depressing book isn’t enough to bring me down for long. It is fiction, after all. And, it resulted in a very good discussion yesterday at our Book Club meeting, so all was not lost. (So totally nailed the oral book exam!)

So what could have brought along this dark cloud of despair that has been hovering over me? Well, I finally finished Little Mister’s Blanket-o-Love. TA DAAA! That’s a big reason why I’ve been silent on here- I’ve been much too focused on crocheting my life away to spend on the computer. Or exercising. Gah. How the heck am I going to run in the 10K next month if I keep on making excuses to not exercise? (Yes, I decided to “run” a 10K with Miss A next month. May the Lord have mercy on my soul. And my butt. Can’t forget that.)

So you’re thinking, “You finished it?? YAYAY! Now show us some pics, monkey!”

I’m going to gloss over the fact that you called me a monkey (takes one to know one) and instead of posting pics, I’m going to cry just a bit more.

You see…..oh man…this is hard.

You see….Ihavetoripitoutagain.

That’s right. I HAVE TO RIP IT OUT AGAIN. AGAIN!!!!

Lest you think that I am on some sort of crochet masochistic binge and am using this Blanket-o-Love as some sick way to get my jollies, let me tell you that this decision has not come easily and it truly has ripped my heart out. I made a mistake. Not a, “I’m the only one who can see this mistake but I’m going to rip it out because I have OCD,” mistake. A, “HOLY MOLY HOW DID I MISS THAT???” mistake. A mistake that would cause you all to point and laugh at me a huge, Nelson-esque, “HA-HA!” A big, terrible, mistake.

My Mister said I should leave it in as a sort of “Hidden Mickey,” which, since I've already crocheted the same blanket twice, I thought might not be a bad idea. As I was mulling it over, he said, “So, are you going to leave your Hidden Stupid in it or not?”

Oh that honey-tongued love of mine. Always knows just what to say to cheer me up.

So, no. I’m not leaving in my “Hidden Stupid,” and instead have to rip out 58 rows PLUS the border. I actually finished it last week but have yet to rip it out because I needed a break from it to wallow in my grief.

Instead, I’ve been working on some of my shawl ideas because I wanted something that I could finish quickly. I really needed something with instant gratification. Except I realized that I’d never use this shawl the way it is (I miscalculated the increases and so it’s a little wonky. That, and it’s a shawl.) so I’m going to rip that thing out, too. Stupid shawl. Stupid yarn! Stupid hooks! STUPID STUPID STUPID.

GAH!!

So. Ugggggghhhhh. I decided to take the plunge and rip it out tomorrow so that I can hopefully have it done by this weekend. After that, I don’t care how many Hidden Stupids are in it- Little Mister will have his blanket and he will love it, I have spoken AMEN.

Since I have been (mostly) gone from the internets in the last week, I nearly missed out on a little something that actually has the potential of cheering me up. Libby is starting a yarn and tea swap and that sounds fabulous. You have until the 22nd to sign up, so get your butts in gear! And if you get me for a partner, the yarn you send better be simply AH-MAZ-ING because, you know. Despondent and all.

Ok. I'm off to melodramatically shower my pillow with my melodramatic tears yet again. Fare thee well, kind gentle folks. May your day be blessed, may your night be peaceful, and may your crochet not be filled with Hidden Stupids.