It's My Anniversary Par-Tay and I'll Sulk If I Want To ...
There are two cards sitting on top of our fireplace.
One is a Happy Two Year Anniversary card from me to the BF.
The other one, I'm assuming, is a Happy Two Year Anniversary card from the BF to me.
Yesterday, was the Big Day and yet there they still sit unopened.
I had high hopes for our big day.
I was getting my hair done - geez, Louise it had been nine weeks! - in the morning.
I always love my three-hour appointments at Fab Hair and Aesthetics. I get to gossip, eavesdrop, hear the latest buzz and sit and read mags while my hair dye sets. (Hair is still blue and green ... maybe we'll go purple in November.)
My hair, as always, looked fab and it was, dare I say it, nice to have a little break from my Little Man - my first in a month.
But then I came home and the whole day went bust.
First of all, we had a romantic implosion.
Maybe a lot of new moms would back me up on this, maybe not, but I'll just let it all hang out there and be truthful: Ya don't exactly feel hot and sexy one month after giving birth.
The stitches have just fallen out - like, isn't that more than enough to kill the mood?
I've been wearing the same jeans for three weeks. I have, as I said in earlier posts, six pounds to lose before my old pants are going to fit. (Halloween is the deadline.) You try wearing the same pants for 21 days and you're pretty much going to feel bleh.
Of course, there's the sexy breast pads to contend with. Inside the oh-so sexy maternity bra are two saucer pads scrunching around. Hot, I tell you.
And then there's the fact that 12 hours a day, you have a baby on your boob.
And, here's the cherry on top, yesterday I had a baby on the left and a breast pump on the right.
Stitches+ Dirty Jeans + Breast Pads+ Baby on Boob+ Breast Pump = Major Mood Killer.
The day took a further nosedive when we had a family meltdown and the BF and I realized there was no way this year we were going to be able to reconcile our Thanksgiving Day plans.
Throw in a hockey injury into the mix, and the day was one big bust.
Now, we've got these two cards sitting on the fireplace mantle and I have no idea what to do with them. We ruined our day yesterday and couldn't muster the strength to celebrate and today's almost over and we haven't touched them.
My inclination is just to put them away for a year and open them next year.
The BF and I blew it. Adversity, as minor as it may seem, knocked on our door and we welcomed it in and wallowed in it. It seems disingenuous now to open the "Geez, you're so great, we're so in love" cards.
My mother always says to look on the bright side of things so there is one thing to be positive about: My hair rocks again.
I may have a mommy tummy but this ain't no mommy cut.
Still, I don't usually succumb to negative outside forces, so I'm ticked at myself.
Hope your day was better ...
One is a Happy Two Year Anniversary card from me to the BF.
The other one, I'm assuming, is a Happy Two Year Anniversary card from the BF to me.
Yesterday, was the Big Day and yet there they still sit unopened.
I had high hopes for our big day.
I was getting my hair done - geez, Louise it had been nine weeks! - in the morning.
I always love my three-hour appointments at Fab Hair and Aesthetics. I get to gossip, eavesdrop, hear the latest buzz and sit and read mags while my hair dye sets. (Hair is still blue and green ... maybe we'll go purple in November.)
My hair, as always, looked fab and it was, dare I say it, nice to have a little break from my Little Man - my first in a month.
But then I came home and the whole day went bust.
First of all, we had a romantic implosion.
Maybe a lot of new moms would back me up on this, maybe not, but I'll just let it all hang out there and be truthful: Ya don't exactly feel hot and sexy one month after giving birth.
The stitches have just fallen out - like, isn't that more than enough to kill the mood?
I've been wearing the same jeans for three weeks. I have, as I said in earlier posts, six pounds to lose before my old pants are going to fit. (Halloween is the deadline.) You try wearing the same pants for 21 days and you're pretty much going to feel bleh.
Of course, there's the sexy breast pads to contend with. Inside the oh-so sexy maternity bra are two saucer pads scrunching around. Hot, I tell you.
And then there's the fact that 12 hours a day, you have a baby on your boob.
And, here's the cherry on top, yesterday I had a baby on the left and a breast pump on the right.
Stitches+ Dirty Jeans + Breast Pads+ Baby on Boob+ Breast Pump = Major Mood Killer.
The day took a further nosedive when we had a family meltdown and the BF and I realized there was no way this year we were going to be able to reconcile our Thanksgiving Day plans.
Throw in a hockey injury into the mix, and the day was one big bust.
Now, we've got these two cards sitting on the fireplace mantle and I have no idea what to do with them. We ruined our day yesterday and couldn't muster the strength to celebrate and today's almost over and we haven't touched them.
My inclination is just to put them away for a year and open them next year.
The BF and I blew it. Adversity, as minor as it may seem, knocked on our door and we welcomed it in and wallowed in it. It seems disingenuous now to open the "Geez, you're so great, we're so in love" cards.
My mother always says to look on the bright side of things so there is one thing to be positive about: My hair rocks again.
I may have a mommy tummy but this ain't no mommy cut.
Still, I don't usually succumb to negative outside forces, so I'm ticked at myself.
Hope your day was better ...
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