The Beginning

So, here we are.  Day One.  I hope there will be many days that follow and that this blog takes on a life of it's own.  It's a place for me to bring my thoughts, collect them and turn them loose.

I have a weight loss blog, but I've lost the majority of the weight I wanted to lose and I'm at the point where if these last 10 pounds don't come off, eh.  No matter.

I want to be able to write about lots of other things besides diet and exercise.  Like, baking. Recipes. Books I've read or want to read.  Why my kids drive me bonkers and why I love them so much.  Images of things that make my heart sing.  I know nothing of design and fashion, but I do know when I see a picture and it brings a smile to my face.

I like things to be simple, clean and organized.  It makes me happy when my carpets are vacuumed and my dishes are done.  It makes me even happier if there is something yummy baking in my oven.

I hate doing laundry.  Despise it.  It's the folding.  No, it's the putting away.  I don't mind starting it, I don't mind moving it along, and I guess I don't really mind folding it.  Except for whites.  All those socks drive me batty.  But putting it away. Bleh.  I can live without that.

I wish I lived in South Carolina.  I am in love with Dorothea Benton Frank's work.  If I were to live in South Carolina, I picture myself living in something like this:

You know, just a little cozy cottage out there on the plantation. ;-)

My dream house has a front porch and a sunroom, both of which have turquoise blue ceilings to keep the haints away, and a fan to move the air.  Someplace to rock in the evenings and listen to the frogs and crickets or cozy up with a good book and a cup of tea.  Or coffee. With copious amounts of creamer.  And preferably a scone, too.

Which means I'd also need an amazing kitchen.  With an island and a rack over it to hold my top-of-the-line pots and pans.  And an herb garden.  Which would work out great, since S. Carolina is sunny enough that my herbs would actually flourish, instead of being either drowned or frozen, as is likely to happen where I live now.

And of course, I'd need a library. I have so many series of books I love that I'd need a place to store them all.  Series with characters such as Stephanie Plum, Hannah Swenson, Miss Marple, Sarah Boothe Delaney and of course all of Miss DBF's books.  The library would have a huge fireplace and comfy couches and chairs and lots of throw blankets that are plush chenille.

And since I'm living on a plantation and there's so much acreage, I'll have a tiny barnyard.  With a horse, a palomino named Siete's Oro.  Because I really did have a palomino once, named just that--it translates to Seven's Gold. What's that? You don't know what a palomino is?  Well, it's only one of the most beautiful horses EVER.  Here, I'll show you.

See? Purdy.

I'd also have some hens and I'd eat their fresh eggs every day.  Of COURSE there'd be a dog or three.  Mutts are good, and they'd be allowed inside, although not on the furniture.  Cats would be relegated to the barn, where both of them (I'd only have 2 cats) would keep Siete's Oro and Daisy the cow company.  They'd all have snug little stalls and I'd feed them hay and grain in the morning and they'd roam the pasture during the day.

Yeah, I have a very active imagination, as my REAL life is pretty much as opposite as you can get from that little daydream I just had.

Instead of cows and cats and ponies I have 3 kids.  They are cute, too. But they require lots of work and attention and aren't content to roam pastures during the day and chew hay at night.  They do give world class hugs and kisses and say some pretty hilarious things.  Sometimes they say not so hilarious things, but what's a girl to do?  Laugh and roll with it.  That works, mostly.

I did happen to marry one of the sweetest, kindest, most long suffering men on planet Earth.  He thinks I hung the moon and he looks at me with stars in his eyes.  Come February we'll have been married 7 years.  He has been my saving grace, has stood by me during times that were so tough I didn't know if I'd make it out the other side, and still brings me flowers for no reason.  He also smells really, really good.  Always.  He isn't afraid to help with housework and he is hands on with our children.  He allowed me to get a dog even though he hated the idea of a house dog, and then went so far as to even like her.  He is my Romeo.

Like I said before, we made three little human beings together.  Well, we actually made 5, but two of them returned to Heaven before we got a chance to meet them.  But I know I'll see those two little lovies again someday.

Our oldest child is a girl and she is very smart and very pretty and very honest.  She is also hilarious, which is a good thing because she and I are both as stubborn as they come and we tend to butt heads a lot.  But when I just step back and watch her, my heart swells with gratitude and pride that I get to call her my daughter.  She is sweet, and tender, loves to sing and has an imagination like you wouldn't believe.  She is my spunky tomboy who lives in skirts/dresses and refuses to wear pants.

Our middle boy is sensitive like his papa.  He had a tiny bit of a rough start in life, trying to come early twice.  He wears glasses to correct a lazy eye, and he's had specs since he was 4 months old.  Just try to imagine how tiny those glasses were and how irresistibly cute he was.  He wasn't born cute, though.  He came out scrawny, looking like a grumpy old man with Bozo the clown hair.  But he sure grew out of that phase quickly and now has the sweetest, most innocent face.  He is ALL boy.  Can't sit still and thinks everything is a climbing toy; the world is his own personal playground.  He has a heart of gold and he is my little monkey.

Our youngest boy... well now he started out life as a cherubic little angel.  The happiest, laid back and most mellow baby you ever saw.  He smiled at the nurses and doctors who poked and prodded him when he was hospitalized with RSV at 6 weeks old.  He had cheeks like a chipmunk and big, blue eyes.  He's almost 3 now and isn't quite as peaceful and angelic.  He does have the strongest attachment to me, and can melt my heart with his little lisp and extra enthusiastic hugs and kisses.  He is quick to apologize if he's done something wrong.  He is my sunshine.

I'm also blessed with wonderful, amazing, fabulous friends and family.  I am surrounded by people who love me, in word and deed.  We laugh together, we cry together and we love each other fiercely.  I have many, many, many things for which to be thankful.

That's not to say I haven't had my fair share of tribulations.  I lost my father in a boating accident when I was 4.  My mom married a man who turned out to be a crazy con man... Hollywood could buy the rights to that part of my life story.  Then my mother, a woman whom I have such respect and high esteem for, took her 5 children and moved across the country.  To protect us from said con man.  She single handedly raised us, living from month to month and trusting in God to meet our needs.  Which He did.  To this day I remain in awe of my mother and I just wish she knew how spectacular she really is.

After having my last baby I went into a deep, dark, downward spiral.  Postpartum Depression.  Maybe even so far as to call it Postpartum Psychosis.  I didn't know it at the time, but that's what I suffered from.  For seven long months I barely held onto life by the edge of my tattered fingernails, just trying to survive each day.  It's an ongoing battle, even to this day, but I've found some things that help.  The issue hasn't been resolved; it hasn't disappeared from my life like I'd hoped it would.  But God is on my side, and so are my friends and family, and of course my Romeo.  So I know I'll make it through.  And not just by the edge of my tattered fingernails, either. 

So.  Here we go.  Welcome to my Deliciously Disheveled Life.