ALL FOR A TERABYTE

Quick, 10 points if you can connect the dots between the following photos.  

 

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Give up?

Okay, one more pic.

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What about now?

If you guessed "oh, Melanie strapped MiniMon in her high chair, then grabbed a kitchen chair, a flashlight, a broom, and went out to the dumpster to look through the trash she took out the night before because she couldn't find the external hard drive she got for Christmas," you'd be spot-on.  Because... guess what?  That's EXACTLY what happened.  In my defense, however, I tried to avoid it.  Here's the deal: when we got home from Christmas weekend, this is what our living room looked like:

You can imagine how long it took to unpack and organize everything, especially considering my energetic child, my own lack of energy, and the "it's-Christmas-and-I'm-not-going-to-do-any-more-work-than-I-have-to" esprit de corps that's been radiating throughout our tiny home.  So once I got everything unpacked and boxes/bags taken out to the dumpster, I realized I was missing something: my external hard drive.  The Holy Grail of my Christmas gifts this year.  (seriously? a hard drive=Holy Grail? when did that metamorphosis happen?)  I texted my family, asked them to look through their things, but unfortunately nothing turned up.

So there it was.  My last resort.  There are things in life that THIS chick never thought she would have to do, yet somehow ended up doing them anyway (raising a baby alone, anyone?).  Digging through a dumpster was one of those things.  But all these bytes of storage were calling my name, and I needed them badly.  I was sad that Joleen was out of town, because I feel like if you're forced to dig through a dumpster, you  should at least have company.  Sort of a "two's company, one's just sad" situation.  But alas, there I was, alone, standing in my rubber boots on my kitchen chair in the 6pm darkness, dangling a flashlight from my wrist and using a broom to poke through the boxes I had thrown out the night before (luckily no one else had taken out their trash since then, so I really didn't have much digging to do).  Nothing pumps up the ego quite like this.

Oh, and what's the hardest thing about digging through a dumpster for a lost external hard drive?  Coming up empty-handed.  And going back inside to find a text from your mom, saying that she found the hard drive beneath the tree skirt. 

This day was one big fat fail.  But on the bright side, I have one trillion bytes waiting for me at my mom's house...

ALL THIS for one terabyte.

#thingsthatmakeyoufeelsoawesome

AND THINGS WILL NEVER BE THE SAME.

This weekend was pretty fabulous.  Sol and I trekked on up to Frankenmuth on Friday evening to spend our weekend with family and good friends.  On Saturday my family exchanged gifts.  Read: Sol's first go at ripping open beautifully-wrapped packages.

We had such high expectations, too.  I'm a hopeless romantic, especially when it comes to things like Baby's First Christmas.  We were all watching, waiting for that perfect "Hallmark moment" when Sol would rip open the paper and shriek with excitement as the big ol' bright toy inside was revealed.  We were waiting for cousin Eloise to revel in the excitement of the occasion and squeal her own little wonderful squeal as Sol roared with omg-i-can't-believe-this-is-happening.  But alas, Sol was tired and Eloise was hungry.  And then Sol was hungry and Eloise was tired.  And then Sol was tired and Eloise was... you get the picture.  These two babes were so not into opening gifts, so "magical present time" turned into "you take Sol while I open her gifts and then I'll take her back and I guess that's just a big fat loss for Baby's First Christmas."  Oh well.  I think it meant more to me than it did to her anyway.

We drove home last night on snowy, blowy, icy roads.  That means a 2.5-hr trip morphed into an almost 4-hr trip, compliments of Mother Nature herself.  And given my precious cargo, I made a point of driving as s-l-o-w-l-y as possible.  (That's right, folks.  I'm gonna go 25mph the whole way.  You can either accept it or pass me.  Make your choice.)  We made it home, safe and sound, and Mama Mel unpacked the contents of her car while Sol (for once) sat quietly in her carseat.  And with each load of bags/boxes I toted up the sidewalk into the house, some bag would be knocking against my knee, creating a chorus of Sol's new toys going off: "Red! Rojo! Elephant! [elephant roar]!  Red! Rojo! Eleph--! [elephant roar]!"  Nothing like disturbing the Christmas peace in our quiet little neighborhood.

Sol and I spent a wonderful evening by the Christmas tree, complete with a visit from a good friend.  Sol wasn't awake for long; she snuggled in my arms with her little pink bunny, my heart nearly melting and pouring out of my chest as I kissed my Christmas baby goodnight and lay her down in her crib.  She buried her head in the mattress (as she always does), stuck her little behind up in the air, and before long she was out.

This morning I awoke bright and early, around 6am, and came downstairs to unpack some of the bags and boxes that remained from last night.  [That plan dissolved pretty quickly; hey... it's Christmas.]  Donning comfy clothes and slippers, I brewed some holiday blend coffee, popped in White Christmas, and perched myself on the couch next to the soft glow of the Christmas tree.  Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye are crooning to me about sisters sticking together under all kinds of weather, and I can hear Sol jabbering upstairs as she begins to wake up from her Christmas Eve slumber.  We have one present to open this morning (Aunt Leah, Sol will be opening your gift today!), and then we're going to enjoy our first Christmas as a little family.  I keep thinking back to last Christmas, the stillness, the quiet, and I know things will never be the same from here on out.

Sol's existence has changed things so much, and I almost can't believe that we've spent nearly 11 months together.  Someone this weekend reminded me what a tremendous decision it was to bring her into the world, and that I should be proud of it.  He reminded me that doing the right thing usually takes more time, costs more money, and is generally more difficult, but in the end it's worth it.  And he's so right.  Even though my little sunshine sucks the time, money, and energy right out of my life, I couldn't be happier to spend it with her.  There's a small part of me that wonders whether there's someone, somewhere, who's especially tormented this morning by wishing he had the stones to suck it up and see his daughter on her very first Christmas (Alex, I'll take Things That Make You Say, "She's Awesome and You Suck," for 400.)  But the more I think about it, the more I realize she's not his daughter.  She's mine.  She knows nothing more.  It was me who chose to bring her into the world, and it was me who chose to raise her, to love and protect her.  And this weekend I realized just how many other people adore her; countless family members and friends were fired up to love on this little ball of sunshine.  To see her roaring with laughter at Uncle Rafiki, or entertaining an entire living room of Bierleins at Aunt Joleen's house, to see her snuggling with Grandpa Ken in the rocking chair, or banging on the aluminum high chair tray as Grandma CC feeds her bananas... it makes my heart go *boom*.  The peace and love I feel this Christmas is the best gift I could have received.  Here's wishing you the same peace, good cheer, and abundant love this holiday season.  Merry Christmas!

** our Christmas card this year **

RAMBLINGS ON A TUESDAY

It's Tuesday!

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First off, look how big my MiniMon is getting!  I picked her up from daycare last week and she had a ponytail... hard to believe it's been 10 (yes, TEN) months!

^^ channeling Cindy Lou Who

  A few weeks ago the Sol child went to her 9-month appointment.  We got shots.  We were sad.  Well, she was sad.  I was sort of geeked that she was adequately inoculated by the standards set by the State of Michigan.

 You know what's reaaaalllly good?  Real carrots.  Not the fake baby carrots that are bleached beyond recognition and pressed into nubby little hunks.  Real carrots.  If you haven't had a REAL carrot in a while, do yourself a favor and try one.  They're so sweet... I almost forgot about real carrots.

Last week my sister and I ran a 5k - the Run Through the Lights in downtown Kzoo.  It was more of a "run through the sketchy neighborhoods" than "through the lights," but whatever.  People get CRAZY dolled up for this run, and Liz and I were no exception.  I donned as many red and green clothes as I could find, and Liz and I strapped some battery-operated Christmas lights to our persons, and we were off.  Then we went for dinner and a beer afterwards, still in our hodge-podge holiday outfits, Christmas lights still ablaze, and of course I saw some people from work.  They asked me if I lost a bet.  Awesome.  And in keeping with the holiday spirit, I found these uber-fabulous Christmas-color rhinestones that I wanted to put on my face.  They wouldn't stick to my face, so of course I pulled out the superglue (and my mom will tell you I've been banned from superglue since 2001) and adhered them.  Stuck 'em on real nice and good.  THAT, ladies and gents, is a mistake you make only once.  Note to self: supergluing anything to one's face is poor planning.

Liz told me I looked like an Indian princess at Christmastime.
I'll take that as a compliment... though I'm not sure it was one.

 Last week we had an office Christmas party/gift exchange over lunch (Yankee Swap, Dirty Santa, Chinese Christmas, etc... pretty much whatever derogatory name you can think of for a "random gift exchange").  Ant it was fabulous.  We had these uber cool Solo cups where you could scratch your name into the side of them.  AWESOME.  And I got a "Christmas survival kit," complete with a bottle of wine and goodies from a local shop called The Cheese Lady.  And lately I've been all kinds of interested in fancy cheeses (which are so not vegan, but at least they're vegetarian).  So this camper was a happy camper.

 This past Sunday I took MiniMon to an urgent care center; little lady had an ear infection.  The doctor who saw us looked just like Santa Claus (and yes, I actually do believe it was him), and he told us Merry Christmas {whoa}.  I had the very best service I've ever had at this particular center (for the record, Kzoo-ians, it was Hometown Urgent Care).  They were fast, VERY friendly (something you don't get often at an after-hours doctor's office), and today I even got a follow-up phone call to ask how Sol was.  I would go back there any day. Thank you, Dr. Santa.

I went for a run on my lunch break today, and my shoes were digging into my ankles.  It was sunny... sort of cold, but decent enough.  So I took my shoes off and carried them the rest of the way.  And ran barefoot.  {if I never had to put another shoe on again for the rest of my life, I'd die happy}

It turned out okay, and I was fine for the duration of the run.  When I got back to the office, however... I realized the toll it had taken.  That's gonna hurt for the next few days... So will the blister on the other foot.  That'll teach me to run barefoot in December.

Ouch.

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And with that, I'm out.  Talk soon :)

THE ONE WHERE MELANIE COMES BACK TO LIFE

Okay, okay, okay.  After far too many phone calls/emails/texts saying, "Heeelllooooo... where are the new blogs?"  I'm back.

I've been in a rut.  A residual rut from my last uber-depressing post, The One Where Melanie Screws It All Up.  I've been crazy-mega-busy at work, and amidst all the shopping for Christmas gifts and groceries, I've been trying to find a store that will sell me 2 or 3 extra hours in a day, but alas, I return empty-handed every time.

And every night is one of those "wake-up-every-night-at-2-3-and-4-am-because-you-think-of-something-else-you-have-to-do" nights.  And Sol gets sick - conveniently enough, when I'm literally the only person from my department in the office that week, so I literally can't call in or work from home.  And at the end of the most non-stellar day possible, I get fabulous emails with not-so-fabulous words from a not-so-fabulous person *cough*deadbeatdad*coughcough*.  And then I go home to a wailing child with a temperature of 102, who refuses to sleep longer than an hour at a time.  And I don't know what she wants or how to help her, and I end up crumpled up on the floor next to my crumpled bath towel from that morning, pulling my hair out and sobbing in frustration, which (surprise, surprise) doesn't make Sol stop crying.  And I just want to have a real conversation with another human being.  I want to sit on my couch with another adult and have random pointless conversation and talk about things that happened to me that day.  I want to tell someone about the funny license plate I saw, or the food that someone brought in and it smelled gooooood, which was surprising, because it was chicken.  I want to ask them if my hair looks better like {this} or like {this}.  And I want to do all this while donning sweatpants and a sweatshirt I acquired while working at a pumpkin farm.  But alas,  it's 11:47pm and I'm silent, alone in the kitchen, busy making a dessert for the office potluck tomorrow, and I'm still in my sweater, jeans, and boots that I've been wearing for 16 hours straight.  I've turned my phone off because I just don't want to talk to anyone.  And I don't even have time to eat, much less write anything for my #$%^ blog.  And I'm hungry because I haven't had a bite to eat all day, but at this point I'm so tired that I just need to cover the dessert and go to sleep. My world is killing me, and I'm exhausted.  Mentally, emotionally, physically exhausted.  I am worn down with life.

And then something happened this morning.  I woke up at 5am and stayed awake.  I watched a couple episodes of Full House while lying in bed.  And I took a shower and got everything ready for the day (including the dessert I slaved over).  And I went up the stairs to put on my watch, and I heard "ba! ba! ba!" from the tiny bedroom next to mine.  And I ducked into that little room and I saw the chubbiest-cheeked little face peeking at me over the railing of the crib.  And as I walked into the room, that little face broke into the biggest smile I've ever seen.  And she reached out to me with her ever-growing arms.  I whisked her out of her crib and held her close to me.  And she removed her pacifier and offered it to me, and I pretended to bite the end of it, and she ROARED with laughter because she thinks that's the funniest thing that's EVER happened.  And her hair was sticking up five ways from Sunday, and she pushed herself away from my chest and studied my face with her ever-curious fingers.  And it was like she was reaching straight into my chest and tugging on my heart.  And at that moment, I felt patience.  And peace.  And love.

She makes me feel complete, and on mornings like this, she makes me feel a little less alone.  She makes me hate the daily grind a little less, and love my life a little more.  And she makes me realize that I need to stop dropping to the floor in fits of frustration and despair, because she sees me.  She sees that I'm sad.  She sees that I'm lonely.  And while I know with every thread of my being that she is NOT the reason for my sadness, she doesn't know that.  I don't ever want her to think she's an inconvenience, or that my life would be better without her, or that she's the reason for the tears that so often find their way down my cheeks.  She doesn't make me sad; she brings me back to life when the world seems to be killing me.

So that was a bunch of rambling, but the point is, I'm back.  I'm writing.  And I will continue to write.  I very seriously considered never writing another blog ever again, but that's one of the dumbest ideas I've ever had. Stay tuned; I have much to say after 2 weeks of silence.

{random side note: maybe I should've named this post "The One Where Melanie Overuses the Word 'And' "}

On a brighter note, check out my office!  Holy festive, batman.
Imagine trying THIS at my old job.  In ya face.

WAITING FOR THE SNOW

About once every three days, I get the urge to move somewhere.  Somewhere far away.  Sometimes it's Oregon.  Sometimes it's Ireland.  But then sometimes it's the Dominican Republic.  Or Greece.  Or Barbados.  And to be honest, the only reason I would really want to move somewhere like DomRep, Greece, or Barbados is just so I can have constant warmth.  But like I said, that only surfaces every so often.

The truth is, I like Michigan.  Deep down, I crave the change of seasons.  I enjoy the burst of energy I get with the onset of spring.  I adore going to the beach in the blistering summer heat.  I love shuffling down leaf-covered paths, enveloped in the crisp scent of autumn.  But most of all, I'm positively addicted to clean, pure, freshly-fallen snow.  

It's about this time of year when I get a little antsy waiting for winter to arrive.  The temperature begins to drop as quickly as the leaves, the days are growing shorter, and the house feels warmer and cozier with each quiet evening.  But it's not truly winter yet.  The world is still, colorless, dead and gray.  Night seems to come too quickly with each passing day, and the earth becomes dark and dreary.

And then the snow arrives.  The snow comes, and it covers everything.  Where the earth is cracked and broken, the snow will lay itself over those places and seal up even the smallest of faults.  The dry, dead leaves will all be concealed.  Every roof, every flat surface, will be made soft and white.  Icicles will glisten on barren branches of trees, bringing a celestial light to an otherwise skeletal form.  Stark, still nights will become softer once filled with falling snowflakes.  The deafening silence of a late-autumn night will be transformed into peaceful quiet on a winter's eve.

The snow comes, and the world looks different.  You'll find yourself gazing out through a frosty window on a snowy night, in awe of the silent majesty of a perfect snowfall.  When the snow arrives, there are no more crumbled, brown leaves.  There is no more dead earth.  Nothing is torn, cracked, or broken.  The snow comes, and the world is a beautiful mess of white.  The snow comes, and the once-gray eyesore of late autumn is forgotten.  Light is no longer a harsh interruption to the dark earth, but rather a soft glow upon a pillowy environment.  The snow comes, and all the noise of a crying, dying earth is silenced.  The earth is not dead, but merely asleep, curled up beneath a blanket of snow.  The snow softly pads its subjects, creating the illusion of a smaller, closer, less lonely world.  The eery stillness is washed away by magically luminous snowflakes spiraling downward through an ebony sky.  The snow arrives, and with it comes a peaceful bliss that settles over everything it touches.  The snow comes as a signal that a new year is about to begin.  It's as if every ounce of pain, sorrow, and regret in the world is wiped away by the snow, leaving a blank canvas for a new year.

It's easy to fall into a "late autumn" funk.  Mind and body, your whole self is exhausted from going-going-going, and you begin to channel the earth in feeling gray, dismal, cracked, broken.  Sometimes you just need a little snow.

Photos courtesy of Art House Design

RAMBLINGS ON A TUESDAY

If a picture is worth a thousand words, what's a video worth?

This weekend Joleen and I had a project.

The video below is Sol's first time seeing the fruits of our labor.  Pure elation.

I bet you reacted the same way the first time you saw one, too.

And don't judge me.  Last year I put my tree up on November 1.  

I waited a whole 10 days longer this year.

Go me.

Whooo wants an owl tree topper?  I do, that's who.
But unfortunately it wouldn't stay on the $%^* tree.
So this sad little owl is going back to Target...

...which is okay, because Sol loooooves Target at Christmastime!
(yes, that's garland, courtesy of Aunt Joleen)

This weekend was also the Kzoo Holiday Parade.  Which was phenomenal.

Here's Aunt Liz and Eloise... with Santa in the background!

I made the mistake of going to Hobby Lobby on my lunch break yesterday.

Nothing will empty your pocketbook like Hobby Lobby during the holidays.

On a random side note, I ate a pomegranate the other night.
At first I thought, Why don't I eat these more often? And then I tried to peel it and remove the seeds.
Oh yeah, that's why I don't do it more often. 30 minutes later, it was ready to eat.
What's the best part about eating a pomegranate?
NOTHING.
I am not a patient person.

WEAK-END

This weekend I compiled a list of some of my biggest weaknesses:

• Target at Christmastime
• Olive Garden
• Pasta. 
• Andes Mints
• Good sangria with a great friend
• Parades
• Nieces that scrunch their noses up when they smile
• Dark chocolate peanut butter cups from Trader Joe's
• Christmas lights at 6am
• Those nights where the only light in the house is coming from the lone burning candle
• Little ladies with rattails and stuffy noses who cuddle up with you like they're trying to break your heart or something
• Downtowns
• White tights over chubby little legs
• Men's handsoap that reminds me of good days
• Puffy vests
• Fedoras
• Freshly-bathed, chubby-cheeked babes who wear duck robes

Oh, life is so good.