or: Fifth Disease, how I love thee

Wallace is all better, but I’m completely covered in itchy red bumps and my joints feel like someone has been beating on them.

I’m afraid it’s the couch for me today.

Hopefully I’ll be able to check in soon, Fabulous Reader.

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I ain’t buying him six dozen roses

I’m trying to get things back together here, what with the post-wedding detritus and all, and as soon as I do we’ll be back to the regular program. Until then I’m trying to catch up on schoolwork and this coming weekend I’m flying with Wallace to Florida to see Grandpa Joe.

The weekend after that is Wallace’s first birthday.

I’m thinking that I’m going to invite people and ask them, in lieu of gifts, to agree to take over party aspects, like grilling.

I don’t know what else to do. I’m not in a place right now to be able to plan another party. Even if this one doesn’t involve a religious ceremony.

I think I’d like the theme to be “dance party on the deck” for the kids, because all the kids there will be little guys and gals and I have a CD player.

The only trick is whether the weather will be warm enough on September 10. It should be, right?

DURH. Will stop being stupid sometime soon. More sleep. Need more sleep.

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Capped off with an infectious disease

Fabulous and Constant Reader, to call the wedding a success fails to do it justice. The bride was breathtaking. The groom was handsome. The house was weddingy, yet stylish. The music was rocking and the cake was deeelish and goddamn it if we didn’t have the most amazing time.

As guests left I heard phrases like, “I wish I had done this with my wedding”, “This was so gorgeous”, “Can I get married at your house?”, “I need to live next door to your neighbor”, and “What a great time!”

I love a good party and this one was the best. Yesterday I managed to get most of the house back to pre-wedding garb (I must have thrown out 800 yards of tulle) and our backyard is so gorgeous. And now it’s all done and all we have to do is sit back and enjoy it.

As soon as I get photos downloaded I’ll give you a picture run through, but you need to trust me. It was PERFECT.

On the disease front

Unfortunately the wedding night was the night that Wallace broke out in spots. Over the course of the evening they got worse and worse and worse until finally he woke up at 3am howling. He didn’t have a fever, but he was obviously miserable. I placed a drunken call to our doctor and she said to get benedryl in him and try and make him as comfortable as possible.

Unfortunately, everyone I knew, including me, was rip-snorting fucking wasted. Holly (the other MOH) and I had a quick discussion about who might be sober enough to drive to the all-night Jewel and get some children’s Benedryl, and came to the conclusion that nobody was.

So at 3am we put the boy in his stroller and walked for a half an hour to the all night grocery store.

We got home at 5am and put Wallace in his crib. Holly and her husband and child had to leave for the plane at 6am, so I’m sure she didn’t sleep at all. I got 3 hours of sleep until Wallace woke up at 8am. We were up all day because the itching kept him from napping. I cleaned the house and poor Andy played two shows and came home wrecked.

Last night Wallace was up every 20 minutes with the itching and the misery, in spite of our attempts to put aloe on him and keep him from having to touch too many things.

We think he has/had Fifth Disease, which is kind of like chicken pox, only with a different-shaped rash.

The wedding was a monumental success, darlings, but I am about to fall flat on my face from the tired. Luckily there is Mountain Dew in the world, otherwise I would have been snoring in Anatomy class.

I love you. When things slow down I’ll post more often.

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Good morning!

It’s overcast as of 8am. The weather report said sunny and hot and goregous. There’s plenty of time for the clouds to burn off, but I imagine that the bride will be in a panic when she wakes up today.

Keep your fingers crossed! We can’t hold 70 people in our beeny little house.

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Showtime approacheth - It’s wine:thirty

The tulle bows were made with flower wire and starch today. The tables and chairs and linens were delivered. The centerpieces were completed and the materials assembled. The mountains of booze are tucked safely in the garage and all has been swept and prepped. You could almost eat off our tables, that’s how clean it is around these parts.

The bride has intelligently left her shoes and her underwear at my house, so that she doesn’t forget them tomorrow. She had a makeup run-through last night and apparently the word was “luminous”.

Rumor has it that the groom is surly. The bride is frantic and trying not to pretend she’s frantic, and I actually had to order people to stop prepping today so that there would be something for the Mother of the Bride to do tomorrow other than hover irritatingly around the bride.

Likewise we put everything in the garage, which is in an entirely different direction than the hair/dressing room. The LEAVE THE BRIDE ALONE orders will go up at 4:00pm, about the time the guys take the groom out for a quick pre-wedding drink, and the madness begins at approx. 6:00pm tomorrow night.

We’re as ready as we’re ever gonna be, lord help us.

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Or: A little drunk

Dear Fabulous and Constant Reader,

How are you? I am fine. I am drunk. I am rip-snotting drunk after one glass of white wine. This is a testiment to the power of:

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This is fantabulous stuff, just like you, Fabulous Reader

We have 17 new Wallace photos!

In the world of Wallace, things have taken a wild turn. He’s a great danger to himself and others as he heaves his little baby body around at high speeds and takes great risks. Usually his head takes the brunt of whatever daredevil thing he’s attempting; whether it’s climbing the wall or walking across the room without balance or coordination, this kid is bashing himself but good.

He’s developed an “angry” face that is cracking me up, because he looks just like his father when he pulls it. He’s also doing something we call “Crazy Baby!”.

We each start at an opposite end of the house, then we crawl toward each other as fast as he can. The entire time he’ll be shrieking in glee. When we meet in the middle we both sit down and he throws his arms out and shakes his head all over the place while I yell, “Crrrrrrrrazeh babeh!”

This is the best. game. ever.

We got some photos of him in the high chair, which is the only place he will be restrained these days. Click on the WallaceFlower to see them all:

In yard news, most of the flowers are hanging in there and all transplanted plants are ALIIIIIIIIVE!

If you want to see how the yard is progressing, check this out:

A quick reminder of what the yard was like prior to all the work we did-

It was a mess. Leaves and weeds and rocks everywhere. Not to mention that insane mulch-woodchip garden. What the hell was that about?

Now, see what it was like as of this weekend:

We cut back the tree. I transplanted a bunch of plants from the back area that are actually still alive. The sod took so well that you can’t tell where the new stuff ends and the old stuff begins. The side garden has been mostly de-rocked and our next door neighbor repainted the entire faded fence. Generally, the whole thing is fab.

Above you see what Deck:Stage 1 was like. Here is Deck:Stage 2 where the frame is in place:

Deck: Stage 3 With the cross beams in place.

The deck is actually complete. Andy did a tremendous and manly job. I’ll take a photo tonight and show you tomorrow.

Here are some photos of my thriving plants. Note what a nice change it makes from weeds weeds weeds!:

What is a wedding without a bachelorette party? NOTHING, that’s what:

We all met on Saturday night at the top of the John Hancock building in Chicago, the Signature Lounge.

Here is the bride and her other Maid of Honor, Holly:

From left to right we have Holly, Lisa, Sarah (with invisible fetus, Baby Gomez), Tina, and Mo (with invisible fetus, Bean).

The best view in Chicago - from the Ladies’ room at the Signature Lounge:

Me, Lisa and Holly:

The girls:

We had a fantastic time. We got very drunk. Lisa was told by a handsome man that if she couldn’t go through with it, on behalf of the men in the world, they wouldn’t be upset about it.

That’s because she’s a cutie!!

Grandpa Joe Update: It turns out that he’s had a series of strokes, in both sides of his brain. He’s in relatively good spirits at a hospital in Florida and will be transferred to a rehab center today in the hopes of counteracting some of the effects of the strokes.

I’m going to fly to see him not next weekend, but the weekend after. He’s in a great mood, so your good wishes must be really working. Thank you so much for them, darling reader, you know I love you.

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Then bite me, whore

I work with a woman who has little to no social skills. She frequently makes announcements that I find irritating or pointless and she does them with as little social grace as possible.

Her reaction just this very second, seeing my new haircut:

“Wow! Who is that? Did you just darken your hair?? Oh! You got it cut, too. Wow! You look totally different! I really like lighter colors. I think you looked better with lighter hair. I don’t like the dark hair. You think so, right? You like your hair better lighter, right?”

Me: Go away.

“What? Hunh? Oh! I insulted you! I didn’t mean it! I was kidding!”

Me: Go away

Some people love the new hair, and some people hate it. That’s usually how it is when I go drastic with a cut or color. I’m taking it a little more personally this time because this is pretty much my natural hair color.

The others who don’t like it, by the way, are kind enough to leave that part unsaid.

“You got your hair done!”

Me: Yep!

“Oh! It’s different!”

Me: Thanks!

We can at least pretend like it was a compliment. I know it wasn’t, they know it wasn’t, but people will often start the exclamation before considering the end of it, and I like to give them the most opportunity I can to rescue the situation.

FY fuckin I: I like the cut and color. It has been described as “radiant” and my husband made me stand around outside to be eye candy while he put together the deck. So NEYAH.

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But you missed one hell of a party

Oh, the pity party last night was incredible, Fabulous Reader. You missed the hyperventallating, the wracking sobs and the incredible sense of being put-upon by the world. Given how fantabulous everything is right now, and how life is actually really, really good, I’d like to think that my ability to behave as if it were all falling apart was, in a word, inspired.

Life has improved. My Anatomy book isn’t quite as frightening in the light of day, and the world continues to turn.

I’ll have better posts soon. With pictures!

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Ohhhhh yeah! *SPLAT*

My therapist had this theory. The theory was that I learned early on that I wasn’t permitted to be happy. That on some level I was required to be unhappy and that truth has stuck with me through today. It’s certainly true that when I get high and happy, at some point soon after I’ll be an angry, miserable mess.

Hi! I’ll be your angry, miserable mess tonight!

Even things that are flexible can be broken if they are stretched thin enough.

Wife
Mother
Daughter
Student
Employee
Daily Housekeeper
Secretary
Compadre
Therapist
Handyman
Pet Cleaner
Good Neighbor
Reliable Assistant
Sex Object
Ovulator
Comforter
Reassurer
Victim
Martyr

The question, I suppose, is how thin can I go? You might think that working part time and going to school until 2:20pm two days a week would be something of a break. You might think.

On the other hand, if you were to be around me for the past month while I had time to panic about it, you might have heard me say that things were going to get difficult. Really difficult. That maybe I might freak out and I sure as hell wouldn’t have the same kind of time. Maybe you’d have heard that.

Of course, the safe assumption is that nothing at all changed and I’m capable of everything I’m always capable of. Because that extra three hours of the day is just bonus, even with the accompanying five hours of fucking Anatomy homework scaring the everloving shit out of me.

I’m going under. I’ve been struggling for a while and trying to stay above the water and waiting for the tide to go out. Instead a storm is coming in and I’m sinking. I have no answers except that while I’m not a quitter, I feel in all this very much alone. I feel that my current worth is based on what I can do for other people.

Today at lunch I was feeling triumphant and hopeful and as if life was finally moving in the kind of direction that has endless possibility. Tonight I feel as though I’m going to fail miserably and cry myself to death.

Maybe I’ll just go to bed and wait and see how it goes tomorrow.

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