Sunday, June 10, 2018

Our 1st Dining Out at Bliss!

Only because I loved my dress just a teeny bit more than my husband did I decide to devote an entire blog post to the 1st Armored Division Sustainment Brigade Dining Out (a.k.a Military Ball) so that I could unabashedly show it off to each and every one of you {squealy giggly face}!  
But it's been an entire month since the Dining Out and I'm just now getting a chance to show this little beauty of mine off because the Dining Out just so happened to be in the month of May, and we all know that May is the worst month of the whole entire year.  

I can't help that I'm an emotional mess and can only barely handle anything outside of what life gives me on a normal basis.  It is what it is, y'all.  I am who I am.  I'm basically on survival mode until May and all of it's emotional shenanigans are over with and I can just slide right into the sweet beginnings of summer break.  

Except not this year.  Because... of course not.  This is me we're talking about. 

No, this year the Universe decided that my dog had to die right as the gosh damned month was beginning, and then take Isabelle's appendix all willy-nilly like and out of no where as I was in the home stretch and actually starting to think I was getting the whole month licked.

So anyway, now that May is over with and Isabelle is living her best life without her appendix, I can go about showing off this dress of mine!  Isn't it just the prettiest dress you ever did see??!

We've been at Fort Bliss for almost a year and it's been a little bit tough meeting the people Eric works with.  I'm not all that social.  I'm shy and very much dependent on my extrovert friends who lovingly, but forcefully, pull me out of my shell to get my ass out of my house (you know who you are, and man-oh-man do I miss you guys) so I can't be sure that the reason it's been tough isn't all my fault. 
To be fair, Isabelle's schedule is insanely busy, so she's been almost my sole focus since we've moved here.  But no matter how obsessed I may be with my daughter, or how happy I am to be her personal chauffeur (only until she gets her actual drivers license and can drive without a parent, which I may or may not be counting down the days until that happens), she is growing up finding her feet on her very own path, and I need to back off a bit.  Eric is almost completely consumed with work right now, and Isabelle with school, so travelling just isn't going to be what it was when we lived in Europe so I can't sit around planning trips like I used to.  But to be honest, I was tired of sitting around.  It was time that I pull up my boot straps and go out do something.  So believe it or not, I started working out at a local gym 5 days every week!  And, I have found a joy so big when Isabelle and I started volunteering at the Rescue Mission of El Paso 2-3 days every evening.  While my body and soul have never been happier, I did think it might be nice, and probably way past time, to put a few faces to the names my husband has been talking about for the last year.  

So when Eric told me that there was a Dining Out coming up, I got a little bit excited!  Who doesn't love getting all dressed up, dancing with their Soldier, and feeling all fancy in a hot pink dress?!?  And I knew this was the opportunity I needed to meet the people that will make up our El Paso Army family.

 When you buy sunglasses to match your dress because you're "extra" like that.

I did not take an actual camera with me to the Dining Out.  Since this was our very first social experience with the people Eric works with here at Fort Bliss, I wasn't sure what to expect.  The people here don't know me, and they don't know that I LOVE to take pictures.... as in... obnoxiously taking a gazillion pictures of every single thing these blue eyes of mine see.  So instead, I tried to play it cool (who was I kidding, though) and only took a few pictures with my cell phone, and concentrated on making conversation, relaxing my resting bitch face, and not being awkward.  

It took a bunch of wine and a bunch of concentration to make all of that happen.  What can I say.... I am who I am.

I won't lie and tell you that I didn't compare this Dining Out to the ones we went to in Germany.  

I did.  I totally did.  

You guys, it was hard not to.  

It's just that I miss our 39th Trans Battalion family so so much and I got "homesick" thinking of them.  But Eric and I did have a great time with the 1st Armored Division Sustainment Brigade, and we know that our chapter here will write itself in however it's supposed to the same way it did in Germany.  And I promise that I won't go around comparing everywhere the Army might send us to our time in a magical land across the ocean, it was just this once that I couldn't help it.

But seriously though, don't you just love my dress??  {giggly shimmy dancing in my seat bashful face}

And don't worry y'all, Isabelle came through emergency appendix surgery like a champ!  Everyone at William Beaumont Army Medical Center took AMAZING care of her and made the entire experience as stress free as possible on her parents who get a bit neurotic of their only child.  She is still a teeny bit sore in one spot but is otherwise back to her normal self!  

And now that I've got May behind me for a good long while, I think I can finally slide right into the sweet beginnings of summer break!  You might even catch a glimpse of me sunbathing in this dress of mine.  

Thursday, May 10, 2018

Life Goes On

After dropping our daughter off just a smidge late at school this morning after spending two hours running all over heck getting her her Texas drivers permit, Eric and I drove home talking about everything that happened this week and the poetics of it all.... and I thought that our conversation might make for a good blog post.

Our conversation started about how life goes on.

Whether you want it to or not..... life goes on.  Even if you think it won't, even though it might seem impossible, it will somehow go on.  With or with out you, whether you are ready or not, life will always go on.  Beautifully and perpetually it will always move on.  
But that isn't the poetic part.  That's the obvious part that most of us have already figured out by now... and I'm betting that most of us have figured it out with a big ol' mad face, cheeks wet from tears, cursing out whoever will listen because cursing feels better, and throwing a middle finger or two in the air for good measure after an especially brutal experience that the Universe threw at you without you ever seeing it coming.

For the last 16 years, this week has been the worst week of my entire life, and everyone around me knows that my entire life stops every year around this time until the day after my son's birthday when I pick up where I left off and go about my business.  Stops.  I don't care what you have to say about that.  I don't care how you all might cope with your stuff, or what advice you might have on different or better ways to cope, my life stops and that's good for me.  I take a big breather, I drink a whole bunch of wine, I do the things that I like to do, I don't do the things I don't like to do for just this one week, and I meditate.  I take each year as it comes to me, whether it's celebrating my son's life and the very few precious moments I got with him on this side of Heaven, or it's wallowing in the unfairness of his death and being a giant pile on my couch for a week straight, whatever the Universe decides to give that particular year, I accept.  

This year, my dog died.  And welp, if that ain't the shits, I don't know what is.  

Earlier this week our little family lost a fat chunk of our family when our beloved fur-baby, Brew, could no longer fight his seizures and trusted us to give him back to God.  We were not ready, and we know that Brew would have understood if we had decided to be selfish and keep him here just a little while longer, but he was not ours to keep.  He was fat.  He was the perfect kind of fat that jiggled and squished and made him look even fluffier than he really was, and oh, did that fat baby make us laugh.  I hope so badly that Heaven lets him stay fat until I get to see him again, even though that manly body of his desperately needed to lose a few of those extra pounds that his medications added.
Our hearts are beyond broken and we aren't sure for how long they'll stay that way, but I had already done the thing where I threw my middle finger in the air, cursed out the Universe and whoever else would listen, and cried until I couldn't cry anymore during especially painful moments of my life, so I knew that while we are devastated that Brew is gone from this earth, I know that eventually our lives will move forward again.  

I know this because that is what life does and will always do.

But 16 years ago I hadn't figured that out yet.  16 years ago I laid in a hospital bed laboring my dead son into this world, and I was certain, as certain as I am right now that the sky is blue, that I was going to die.  I didn't know when, but I knew that eventually the pain of losing my first child was going to kill me.  I was too sweet then to have to endure something like that, I didn't know how to endure something like that, and it broke me.  Life outside of that hospital room wasn't any better, it held absolutely zero options that could sustain any quality of life for me.  In between doses of whatever medication the nurses gave me that knocked me out so that I didn't have to feel what my body was doing, I begged God to let me sink into my hospital bed and disappear for forever, because as far as I could tell, disappearing was the only survivable alternative to walking out of that hospital with empty arms, a broken heart, and shattered soul.  I was so young when my son was born.  I lived in a state far away from my home town and family, and I was in an abusive relationship where I had made decisions that meant I couldn't leave easily.  I had no money, no education beyond my high school diploma, and no where to go.  

But God ignored my begging, and although I was a shell of what I had been only a few days before, I did manage to leave that hospital in the middle of the night less than 6 hours after birthing my son into this world.  Afterwards, life went on, and eventually.... so did I.  

What I wouldn't give to go back in time knowing what I know now and be standing outside those hospital doors waiting for that sweet, young, broken girl when she came walking out of that hospital with absolutely no prospects in front of her and shattered beyond repair.  I would be waiting for her with open arms and I would hug her.  Oh you guys... I would hug her with all my might.  And then I would tell her about all of the things that she hasn't learned yet, but will....  
I would start by promising her that life will go on, and I'd promise her how GOOD our God is, and then excitedly explain all the ways in which her life will have moved forward enough where it made room for her to be excited on the same exact day she had known extreme pain.  Indeed, sweet broken girl, you are loved so much that God worked miraculously and meticulously in your heart for years so that you could know excitement on your son's birthday - yes, this day, this same exact moment right now.  Love God, trust God, I would tell her!  Because in 16 years she will be waking up really early on this same exact morning with the daughter she'll name Isabelle that will be born in just 9 1/2 months to get her her drivers permit - and it will be so exciting!  
Isabelle will be the gift from God who will be sent to her to make her a better woman.  Because of Isabelle's inspiration into every cell of her body she will find the strength to take her toddler out of a bad situation and make a better life for them, and even graduate college too.  Isabelle will be smart.  She'll be compassionate and loving and insightful, she'll have the kind of insight that will knock you off your feet, and as she grows you'll see that she was sent here to change the world.  
Then I would hug this broken spirit again and tell her about the man who painstakingly loved her back to whole for 12 years.  He'll be a Godly man who will be her husband.  Eric will have the patience of a saint and think you hung the moon.  He'll have a terrible sense of humor but you will think he's the perfect combination of funny and adorable that makes him oddly hilarious and he'll make you laugh harder than anyone else ever could - no one will understand it and everyone will roll their eyes at you.  The three of you will be unstoppable together and I'll assure her that this broken girl standing in front of me won't be so broken anymore.  But I would probably skip the part about Brew.  

And that, is the poetic part.

When my whole life stops, when I stop my entire life this same week every single year, it keeps going anyway.  Life found a way to align a milestone in my daughter's life with her brother's birthday, and I couldn't be more grateful to the Universe for a gift like that.  Y'all might not think it's much, but to me, it was everything.  

In loving memory of Brewsky ("Brew") Merrick Schnell.
June 15, 2011 - April 29, 2018
Stay fat.

Tuesday, February 13, 2018

El Paso Women's March 2018

I had debated on whether or not I would blog about my daughter and I marching in the El Paso Women's March a few weeks ago.  I am not all that eloquent in trying to explain my stance on anything political, and the last thing I wanted to do was politicize my blog.  I've learned the hard way in this world of online interactions that everyone will have an opinion about everything you do, even if it's attending a Women's March, and that can be hard on me.  But it's important to me to blog about the things that are important to me, so the more that I thought about it the more I thought their opinions be damned... the El Paso Women's March was worth a blog post.

I live my life and lead in my actions with compassion and empathy always.  I give what I can when I can to everyone without judgement and without hesitation, even if it's only a handshake and a "God bless you" - it has been through these interactions that I have found more joy than I ever deserve.  I believe that empathy at the root of all of my decisions are what make every aspect of my life less complicated.  I believe wholeheartedly in equality for ALL And I believe that compassion and empathy (and common sense) are what will heal the world.

I am not strong.  I might even be the least strong person you know or will ever know, and there was a time in my life where I was even less strong than I am right now.  There is a reason that I don't often, if ever, talk about the time of my life before my daughter was born, and it's because there isn't much worth talking about.
God put my parts together in His way and then sent me here to be born where I was tossed aside not long after as an itty bitty little girl by a person who completely broke my spirit, and that put me on a trajectory that only a timid broken little girl could go.  I easily absorbed the mean words that kids often say to each other and internalized them believing that I was ugly and stupid, growing up I was made to feel that every little thing I did was was wrong, years later I chose a boyfriend who couldn't care less whether I existed or not, a couple of years after that my repeated "no's" did not make a someone stop, and then a few months after that I settled for an abusive relationship that lasted for years longer than it should have believing that that was all that I deserved.  All of this culminating into a cycle of being perpetually humiliated for almost all of my early life.  

But then.  

Then, God in all His mercy placed a 5lb 9oz tiny miracle baby girl in my arms and I knew instantly that she was better than me.  She was smarter than me.  She was stronger than me.  On the day that that precious baby came into this world she began demanding that the world meet her standards, and they were high.  If she was going to demand from this world she now belonged in, then I would too.  Isabelle would never be tossed aside or thrown away.  She would know that her voice would be heard and that she mattered.  Isabelle would not be humiliated by standing up for what she wanted or didn't want, and her spirit would be valued beyond measure and fed goodness & love for as long as I was on this side of Heaven, so if the time ever came that she might get her heart broken her spirit would be more than strong enough to withstand it and see her through.  

So, with Eric by my side, we set out to raise a human, a strong one.  We showed her all aspects of this world through a lens of compassion and empathy, from concentration camps to cathedrals, homeless shelters to national parks, we didn't shield her from a single facet.  
But as parents it was never our job to put words into Isabelle's voice, or thoughts into Isabelle's head.  We could lead by example, we stand by our belief that compassion, empathy, and common sense will heal the world, but we can't tell her what to believe or how to feel about the things she's seen.  Going to the Women's March with my daughter was important to me.  It was important to me because I needed Isabelle to see empathy on a giant scale, but even more than that, I needed for her to see her voice in action, and for her to see that her voice has power.  What she does with it after this will be up to her.

"Normalize Empathy" - So perfect, and so important.

With each step my daughter took in the march that day, I could hear her voice getting louder and stronger.  She walked ahead of me every step of the way.  I just stood back allowing her to fill her heart and voice and spirit and brain with all the things that the Universe chose to give to her.  As a mother and a woman, it was incredible to see.  Together we rise!

The last thing I wanted to do was politicize my blog, but if you Google the statistics about woman and sexual assault, woman in the workplace, woman and equal pay, woman and healthcare, or even women and access to women's healthcare then you would understand the need for marching and raising our voices.  Just like explains: Women's Rights are Human Rights and Human Rights are Women's Rights, and that speaks right to my empathetic soul.  

Sunday, January 14, 2018

It's My Brain's Fault

Blogging has been extremely difficult for me lately and it's all my brain's fault.  I have been on a very long and complicated journey with my health for the last few months, taking what little focus of mine that wasn't already on my daughter or husband and leaving nothing to give to this blog of mine. Which is why things have been so desolate on here for so long.  

I am currently seeing three different specialists who I swear to you went to medical school for the sole purpose of ganging up on me just to drive me to insanity by having me crisscross all over this city for their individual separate appointments and then crisscross back again to get poked for the same exact blood tests that they each ordered but didn't tell each other just so that they could all go back to their lair and laugh maniacally together at how their evil plan is coming along perfectly as they twirl their gross thin mustaches because they've successfully made a person go insane (just kidding, none of them have mustaches).  Eric and I are hoping that the bulk of the testing is over with, but just when we start to think that we get thrown a curve ball like a bone marrow biopsy days before Christmas (but that's a whole other blog post and my brain just isn't ready to talk about that yet, and it's still a little salty about that particular curve ball so now is probably not a good time to talk about it anyway).   

To be honest, it's hard to know where to begin because we don't have any answers yet, and everything that is going on has been happening so fast and is so intertwined and complicated that I couldn't make it make sense even with a clear head, but also, I'd like to maintain some of my privacy and not go into a lot of detail.  

What I'm comfortable telling y'all at this point is that we know that I have a serious seizure disorder and have very recently started seizure medication which has put me into a major fog.  We don't know why, we don't know what's causing them, we just know that they're there and that seizure medication was absolutely critical.  With all medications there are side effects and there are adjustment periods, and I know that this is no different, especially one that needs time to work it's magic on a majorly malfunctioning brain, and after two weeks I can feel that I'm starting to turn a corner (I hope), but it has been a giant life changing adjustment that my little family was not prepared for, and it too has me a little salty.  
I have been struggling with "gaps" - that's what I call them because there are gaps in my thought process and even how I put my words together.  I'm forgetting simple things and simple parts of my routine.  I get lost really easily in stores or on my way to places that I've been to dozens of times already.  I lose track of what I'm doing constantly and get confused really easily, which then immediately turns into my getting emotional.  Step-by-step instructions like recipes get scrambled and I can't manage to unscramble them even though they are easily numbered, which makes it infuriating.  I am losing weight and am hungry all the time but I forget whether I've already eaten or I forget to eat completely so then being hungry at all becomes extremely aggravating to me. 

So to sum it all up: I feel like a gosh damned child, and I am not so sure there are moments I've acted like it too.  

But don't let me make things sound so dire.  Sure things have been rough, but I keep putting one foot in front of the other and I think I've turned a corner!  I'm not sure where this journey is going with my health but whatever, I've been through worse so I'm not all that worried.  I'm a little bit irritated that I'm even on this journey since I was just on one with my fertility and it ended peacefully and I was just getting my body back and had started to fall in love with hiking, but that's okay, Universe, I see you, you want me to go through this too, okay, I can handle it.  I might want to cuss you out a bit, but we'll talk about that later.
I am thankful every day for access to the excellent healthcare that I have at my fingertips, and for my husband who lovingly points to obvious landmarks for me to remember in the mall or store that we're in when I begin to wander off (I do that a lot) so that I don't forget where to find him, and to my daughter who is inherently good and kind and says "mom, it's okay, just read it slowly until it makes sense, it's okay, you'll get it." without ever making me feel bad.  

I've wanted to give y'all an explanation for a while now on why I have been so quiet.  It's not like me to just drop off the face of the blog universe the way that I did and I feel terrible about it.  Other than that, life has been really good. Isabelle is great!  She is keeping me so so busy!  So busy, in fact, that I almost don't have time to think about those maniacal mustache twirling doctors.  

Tuesday, November 21, 2017

Well Damn, October is Over

Well damn.  October has been over for a while now and I said almost nothing about pregnancy & infant loss.  But then, I haven't really said much about anything at all.  

This little blog of mine has been sorely neglected since we moved back to America last year.  It's gotten second fiddle to most everything else in my life, mostly because life got equal parts hectic and boring, but also, there just isn't much for inspiration right now.  
I had every intention of pouring my heart out to you all or give advice or share some amazing resources out there for Pregnancy & Infant Loss Awareness month, but then every time I sat down to blog, I lost my gumption.  I had hoped to talk about the one aspect of our fertility journey that I've never publicly talked about before, adoption and surrogacy, but then every time I sat down to blog, I couldn't figure out the words I wanted to say.... and, my heart just wasn't in it.  Which I guess tells you all you really need to know about how those methods of expanding a family fit into our journey.

I don't know where my gumption went, but I can't find it, and I'm not so sure that's a bad thing.  I usually blog when my heart is in pieces because those pieces sometimes make more sense to me when I lay them all out on a blog, but lately my pieces feel pretty great.  Mostly though, there just isn't anything exciting going on in our lives right now.  We settled into our new life here quickly, and since then I've been focusing on making life as easy as I can for Isabelle who is eyeballs deep into a rigorous high school schedule and is prepping for her first college courses that start this summer, and for my husband who needs to concentrate on Army stuff right now.  
In July I started working out 4-5 days every week and have lost a small chunk of weight.  I'm struggling to see the progress, but I'm enjoying being physical and my time at the gym has become really important to me.  I am focused on my ultimate bucket list goal of hiking to Machu Picchu after Isabelle graduates in a few years, so working out is helping me build my endurance.  And for the first time in my life I feel like my body is working the way it's supposed to, rather than hating me and murdering everything inside me because apparently I am the worst owner of a human body ever and deserve to be punished for however long I have a contract on this stupid thing.  
Besides the gym, I've also been spending any free time that I have (which isn't much) volunteering at different organizations.  If you're on any of my social media you know that Eric, Isabelle, and I volunteer at the Humane Society of El Paso.  I am a little bit obnoxious about putting all over the internet the adoption events we help with because I want to get as many dogs & cats fur-ever homes as I possibly can, but other than that I volunteer for other organizations around this city that I don't like to post about so as not to take any glory away from the Lord who is truly doing the work - but it is another aspect of life that is keeping me busy right now, even if you aren't seeing it or hearing about it.

I promise you that none of that is really all that interesting or blog-worthy.  

Since I had a seizure in June I've been dealing with all sorts of different health issues.  It's all very intricate and complex and the only thing you really need to know is that everything is checking out fine.  I have a laundry list of medical "quirks" that set off red flags, but for me they are normal and I'm just having to go through the motions as each doctor investigates each red flag.  If you've ever spent any amount of time in a waiting room then you know that that is nothing worth blogging about.  

I promise, y'all haven't missed anything.

I HATE that we aren't traveling like we used to, but with Isabelle's schedule the way it is we haven't been able to get too far from home.  Between her class load, theater club, church, and her volunteering, she needs time to rest and relax, so we are mindful to keep whatever time is left free from any sort of commitment (and truth be told, I need a glass (or 3) of wine on those days, so there's almost zero chance of getting my ass off the couch anyway).  But Eric and I know that this is just the beginning for her, and her life is only going to get more insane as she dives further into her college courses.  So until she graduates, all I can do is keep adding to our bucket list and daydream about the awesome adventures that await us.  

Sunday, October 1, 2017

Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month 2017: Acceptance.

Today starts Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month, and I, for the first time in a long time, don't have much to say about it.  

Eric I made the decision almost 2 years ago to permanently end our ability to have biological children when we were told in no uncertain terms that there was NO hope of my ever carrying another baby to term.  While that decision was emotional, to say the least, and took us more than a year to make, I hadn't learned yet that acceptance was the essential part of our journey that had been missing the whole entire time.  Without it, we would never have been able to heal even a little bit.
It wasn't until after we ended our ability to have children that we were forced to accept that no baby, no answers, and a heart full of hurt was our happy ending.  It didn't feel very happy.  I can't tell you that acceptance came easily, or that I didn't shake my fists in anger at the Universe, but slowly and patiently, as if it was a living thing who had been waiting for us all along, acceptance so generously brought us the peace we needed to confidently move forward.  There was NO doubt in the months following our decision that we had made the exact right decision.

Our journey was over!

So now, I am in a completely different head space than I have ever been before.  I am not struggling with the losses I've endured, and I am not desperately trying to get pregnant.  The pain I was feeling for so long gave me inspiration for my blog, and I found solace in pouring my heart out on here when I had no where else to pour it out to, but now, I don't feel like I need to do that anymore.  

I feel like all that I've wanted to say, I've said.

This doesn't mean that I won't continue to grieve.  It took a lot of healing for me to understand that grief won't magically go away any minute now.  Grief is a life long process, and I know now that only until I am standing before my Lord and Savior will my broken parts be put back together.  So until Jesus is ready to heal all of my parts, I will try my damnedest to carry them as gently as I can and not throw fits at the Universe when they get too stabby and heavy.

And this doesn't mean that I won't continue to blog about pregnancy loss and stillbirth, or stop advocating for a community that is suffocating under the weight of silence.  

I was reminded recently how suffocating silence can be when two people close to me, on separate occasions, gently encouraged me not to talk about my son so much; suggesting that it was time to let him rest in peace, or telling me about another person whose baby had died too but never talked about it, like that was the better way to handle it (maybe for that person it was, I will never know, but for me it's not).  
These were two different conversations in a long list of conversations I've had since my son died 15 years ago that should never have happened.  These separate conversations were coming from well-meaning but very misinformed people (most likely because of a generational difference), and are examples of why people suffer in silence.  

And those kinds of conversations happen all the time.  

So then I wondered, had I done that terrible of a job explaining the facets of stillbirth and pregnancy loss on this blog that two women who are close to me and read my blog feel that their advice, which is so opposite of everything I've ever talked about, is good advice?

What I had no intention of mentioning, let alone writing an entire blog post about, I now got myself started on and now there is no going back.  Because stupid comments and terrible advice are being given to hurting hearts every day, even to me, someone who has walked this path for a really long time, has had every shitty comment you can imagine said to her, and is still here.... being given terrible advice.  
Yeah soooo, what if my journey was painfully slow and haphazard-like, and maybe it took a whole lot of wine to get me to the spots where God asked me to walk through a specific challenge.  And okay, so maybe I had a few full-on tantrums when my broken parts were extra stabby and that particular challenge God needed me to go through sucked way worse than I expected.  But I did manage to claw my way to the finish line (hair flip) with a really awful murdering uterus, so please take it from me: never tell anyone to not talk about their child.  Ever.  There are families that are just starting out on their grief path and are not capable of finding the same kind of understanding, who risk being silenced for years because of one dumb comment.  They eventually will figure out that sort of understanding, but even when they do, telling them not to talk about their precious child is WRONG.  

Don't do that.  Just listen to them, that's all you have to do.  

I promise it really is that simple.

Anyway, all I'm saying is that I am in a better head space now than I ever have been before, so a little while ago I felt like I didn't have as much to say..... but then I started typing and look, I had something to say.  So who knows what this month will bring.  October is my favorite month, so the possibilities are endless... ;)

Let me leave you with a song that my daughter introduced me to a few weeks ago and has been on constant repeat ever since (anyone else do that?  Play a song until your ears bleed?).

As if I couldn't love Ed Sheeran anymore than I already do!  Swoon!

Wednesday, September 27, 2017

Hatch Chile Festival 2017

I anticipated that life would get busy after Isabelle started high school, but I had no idea that it would mean practically living in my car until she graduates (or gets her drivers license, but at this point, nobody has time to teach her how to drive so there's a fat chance of her getting her license any time soon), and that I would almost never get to see my husband or sit down long enough to blog.

Not that I have anything to blog about because I practically live in my car now, and because the one place we did manage to get out and go see was a total bust.  But still, it would be nice to see my husband every now and then.

My little family lives outside of the school district that Isabelle now attends high school, which means that she isn't able to ride the bus and I have to drive her to and from school every day.  Her school isn't all that far from our house, but because of traffic it's a good 60 minute round trip twice every day.
Besides driving her to and from school, Isabelle is required to volunteer a certain number of hours in order to graduate, and because of the age limits at the organization that Isabelle has chosen to volunteer, a parent has to be present at all times until she is 16 years old.  So that means, me and Eric are volunteering too.
And, Isabelle is involved in theater club.  So in between her school day and volunteering on the weekends, her left over minutes will revolve around auditions, practice, set-up, opening nights, etc..., which means that my left over minutes do too.   

So it was a good thing that before life got so busy, Eric and I took some time alone together to go to Hatch, NM to the Chile Festival!

We had no idea what a Chile Festival was, so I don't know what we were expecting, and I can't be all that sure that we gave this particular festival a fair shake, but for us, it was a total bust and we ended up leaving soon after we got there to go home and watch a Game of Thrones marathon in our pajamas.

The festival was out at the Hatch airport, but on our way to the airport it looked like the town itself was a neat place to wander around, eat, and shop.  But by the time we made it to the airport (traffic was backed up for miles), and parked our car (parking was so disorganized and frustrating), and then walked around for a bit not seeing anything fun or interesting, a Game of Thrones marathon sounded so much more fun than trying to fight for another parking spot in a little town that was packed full of people.

The festival did have live music and food, and we managed to get a few things that we can give as Christmas gifts, but that was about it.  Other than the amazing smells of all of the roasting green chile, we didn't see a lot that we wanted to stay for.

So we didn't.

I live for Snapchat filters, don't you?

I snagged one of these for my kitchen!  I'm not sure that it's meant to be used as decoration, but I think it's just perfect anyway!

See what I mean.... there just wasn't much there that struck our fancy.  But c'mon, could a Chile Festival ever really compete with a bottle of wine, a Game of Thrones marathon in my pajamas with my husband who I don't get to see all that much anymore?  I didn't think so either.

But please don't mistake my adjusting to this new routine for complaining.  I've only got a very few precious years left with my girl until she goes out into the world on her own, and I am convinced that the years have aligned the way that they have to allow me to spend these last few years walking along side of Isabelle as she makes her way out from under our wings.  So while it's been exhausting lately, I am loving every second I get with my daughter.  All I'm saying is that it'd be nice to see my husband.  But not at a Chile Festival.... because it was kind of dumb.