yeah, about that

Bitter insomniac Mandie is baaaaaack! Raise your hand if you missed me.....anybody? Anybody? Bueller? Lest y'all think I'm cured and on with my life and back to HappyLand, just FYI, this evening shall be filed under "relapse".

Things were okay until the TV came on. I don't even watch My Name is Earl, since I don't find trailer parks or jail all that fascinating, but it was on as I started dinner. The blonde floozy with a belly out to there. Cool, but whatever, I'm HAPPY, remember? Gray's. I love Grays! While the storyline was blessedly free of anything involving pregnancy, there was that whole meth-baby issue. Cool! People like THAT become parents every day. But not two hard working fun loving good hearted mostly sober married people, noooooo. Next, we finally got around to watching last week's Desperate Housewives. You KNOW you're losing it when you're jealous of a fake pregnancy. Yes, I have no shame, I'll admit it- I was jealous of Bree's strap on baby bump. And just moments later.....it gets better! Susan's pregnant! Total shocker! Isn't that just perfect? I can't wait for next week. I'm sure she'll be painting the nursery in designer maternity. And last but most certainly not least- our beloved Friday Night Lights premiers tomorrow. Somehow I found a link to a "sneak preview" of the first episode. What could be safer than a show about small town Texas and football and high schoolers, right? Until Minute 2 when we get to watch the coach's wife go into labor. Then the miracle of birth and the proud new daddy with the misty eyes....and....well, that's as far as I got before shutting that crap down and proclaiming how much I HATE that stupid Friday Night Lights show and really always have because it just sucks and they're a bunch of stupid asshats and who the hell wants to live in stupid farking hot old TEXAS anyway and I hope those STUPID DYLAN PANTHERS LOSE EVERY SINGLE GAME because that show is just CRUEL!!

Insanity. I own it.

So, TV is looking off limits unless I can manage to find something 100% NBR (aka Not Baby Related). Or at least, it's off limits when the bitter mood sets in. We better find a hobby.

getting off my own ass

Over and over again I've been admonished- "get off your ass!" (not as in get up from the sitting position, as in you're too hard on yourself) or "cut yourself a break". Mostly from my mom, sometimes from my dad, and more than a few times from my former manager/business partner B. I'm an oldest child, I'm an Aries, I'm type A....meaning, I was basically born strong willed and innately fearful of any failure on my part or causing disappointment to others. It usually pertained to work situations (causing myself a whole lot of stress where none was needed) but also to life in general (expecting too much of myself or if not too much, more than I would expect out of anybody else). Last night at group, we were asked what we've learned so far from this miscarriage madness. Without even thinking, I informed the group that I've learned to get off my own ass. Lighten up on myself. Cut myself a break. Meaning- if I didn't feel up to talking to a friend who had just had a baby, I didn't. If I wasn't sure I could handle a certain social interaction, I didn't. If I just wanted to pull the sheets to my chin and call it a day, I did. If the idea of going back to work at a certain point seemed insurmountable, I just didn't do it. As I finished talking, our counselor was sitting back in his chair nodding and looking mighty impressed with me. He informed me that that very lesson of being kind to oneself is often a lesson only learned after many, many months of sessions and discussion. And here I was, 1 month and 1 day out from loss #2, growing as a person and learning that lesson (without the gigantor therapy bill). Does it sound like I'm patting myself on the back? I am. Get off my ass.

I had another breakthrough on the flight home from the wedding. At the wedding, I ran into someone I knew in college who somehow knew about both miscarriages (odd since only #1 was public knowledge, but these things happen in small circles, I suppose). She went on and on and on about how miserable I must be and how awful life must be and how I "just shouldn't worry because SOON I would find some happiness in my life again". At the time, she pissed me off. There was a definite overtone of "poor, poor Mandie" that grated my nerves. And 35,000 feet over the central US wedged up against the plastic window doing my best to escape any skin to skin contact with my seatmate who looked suspiciously like Milton from Office Space (where's my sthapler?)....it hit me why that bothered me so. Because I AM happy! Because our life ISN'T miserable! Because there's no room for "poor Mandie" in my life. Sure, there's been misfortune, and sometimes "sad Mandie" or "confused Mandie" or "bitter b*tch Mandie" comes to visit for an afternoon. But she goes just as quickly as she came, or is chased off by a good margarita, and leaves me remembering that we have SO much!! Our life really and truly is fantastic in so many ways. Our marriage. Our families. Our house. Our friends. Our boat, our ambitions, our relative health, our keen ability for causing outbursts of hysterical laughter in one another, our future. Our future that is bright and big and 100% likely to include children. Children without 4 legs who don't chew the furniture, I mean.

Thankful for: Malinn (so, so thankful for her right now), Megan's strength even if she can't appreciate it, J's lessons on stress free living, that scary motorcyclist changing his mind and deciding not to break my face in at the stoplight when I accidentaly honked at him, Thursday night television, Facebook, mom's visit in 5 days

54 hours of fantasticness

Well, I never. Turns out I haven't become a total bore, and I TOTALLY still know how to have and be fun! What a lot of fun packed into lesser than 2.5 days. The plane landed at 11:30pm Thursday, and 30 minutes later, Sarah and I were at the bar. The packed, fun, alumni filled bar (homecoming weekend) where the schooners were flowing. And the fun truly didn't stop until my crack of dawn wake up yesterday morning to get to the airport. That....not so fun. But totally worth it.

Where to start? We got pedis, had a hilarious girly lunch that reminded me just how amazingly funny my girlfriends are and just how much crazy shit we packed into 4 years at UND, did some shopping at the world famous Columbia Mall, and later, Jenny and I visited Alpha Phi. That made me feel older than dirt, but brought back some fantastic memories. The girls are still grouching about the Big Green Couch, Euna-bomber is still the most cantankerous house mom on University Ave, and the rooms are still cute and crammed and cable-free. But more importantly- it still looked like the same cozy casa that hosted the very best of my college years. Same foyer where I played Recruitment Nazi and perfected "window popping", same kitchen where I shirked my kitchen duty night after night, racking up some pretty impressive duty fines, same formal where Monday night meetings were attended and world peace (er...Greek Week and frat prefs) were discussed, same Closet and Haunted Triple and Lookout. So, so many happy memories. Thanks, Martha Foote Crow!

We had the rehearsal and dinner that night, and kept on going until the $4 cab ride home much later on. (A $4 cab ride! Only in ND! I couldn't get to my MAILBOX for 4 bucks!) The wedding was great and the bride was Gorgeous. No doubts about that happy couple, not a one. Lots of old friends and catching up to do. The weekend flew by and I'm already missing it. Sara was the final in our six-some to marry, so it was the last marital hurrah. Now on to planning a get together cruise for the next round of reminiscing and debauchery.

Back in real life, I had my follow up appointment with Dr. S today. Good God, I love that man (and J knows and doesn't mind). The waiting room was cruel as ever (only 1 of 100 examples: the thrilled couple sitting beside me after their sonogram as the wife admired and examined and grinned over their perfect little sonogram showing their perfect little end of 1st trimester fetus) but the doctor is worth the wait. He pronounced me entirely healthy and healed, and talked me through the blood tests they planned to run if I wanted to. Dr. S truly feels it was a freak chromosomal mix up (meaning- not our fault, nothing wrong with me, just truly terrible luck times 2) but understands my desire for testing to, as he said, ease my mind with the great results. He says he's no more concerned about me after miscarriage #2 than he would have been (had he been my doctor) after miscarriage #1. We'll know more the end of this week or so as the test results come back, but I'm certainly encouraged by his confidence.

Off to ease my about-to-burst DVR. I literally can't decide what I want to watch first. The cheerleaders are waiting, Addison's new show still unwatched, and I'm totally slacking on LC and JustinBobby. And I need to hurry, because it's Bachelor night. I'm exhausted already.

A few shots from the weekend.

Jenny and Mandie self-portrait outside Alpha Phi:

Me with the beautiful bride-to-be at the rehearsal dinner:

Three Fantastica Bridesmaids

i'm off

Grand Forks, watch yo'self! Despite Ralph's best attempts to keep me home, I leave for the airport for my trip to GF in a few minutes. After many hours of laundry and packing yesterday (packing, by the way, my most favorite new carry-on sized suitcase) Ralph relieved himself atop of my clothing and suitcase late last night. Not a happy time at our house right about then. So, I got to stay up until the wee hours laundering and scrubbing and trying to get my weekend wardrobe clean and free of the stench of cat pee. Thankfully, the bridesmaid dress was NOT packed yet. Yikes.

I'm probably more excited to go to Grand Forks than anyone has ever been to go to Grand Forks. Trees with colors! Alpha Phi! The Ralph (not Ralph the pee-er, Ralph the stadium)! Canadian accents! I'm sure the wedding will be fabulous, and I could just cry thinking of how happy it will make me to be in the company of my very best friends.

Boring entry, but there should be much more to say by next week.

cleanup, aisle 4

Oh, I'm just so thrilled that Knocked Up is now out on DVD. You know, because it's superfun to watch Katherine Heigl's dumbfounded shock at her accidental pregnancy on the commercials playing over and over and over. "Oops, got pregnant on accident with some schlubby pot smoking loser, and of course it's going to stick and be healthy and end in a baby! What the hell is a miscarriage anyway?" J and I went to see this about a month after miscarriage #1. I thought I was ready and I just really wanted some greasy, salty, tongue-numbing popcorn. I was wrong about the whole "being ready" thing. As the credits rolled (awesome- pictures of the cast members/crew as teeny tiny babies with their moms) I sat there sobbing and gasping and wheezing and J just sat there all helpless because he kind of knew all along that going to this movie was a baaaad idea but had quickly caught on that you don't fight with the hormones, you do as they say, so we went and it ended badly. So you can imagine my joy walking through WalMart today and spying the big huge rack of Knocked Up DVDs. Remember the movie Mean Girls, how Lindsay Lohan's character would have those crazy visions of herself doing inappropriate things? That was me in WalMart. I pictured myself grabbing ahold of the rack, knocking it over with gusto, and jumping up and down and all around stomping the crap out of those stupid DVDs. Then running over the whole awesome mess over and over and over again with my creaky wheeled cart. (How do I ALWAYS get the creaky wheeled cart?) Anyway, I literally had to shake off that daydream and remind myself to keep walking towards the grocery aisle.

I have the same Lindsay Lohan crazy visions thinking about Thansgiving (casserole tossing, wine chugging, platter breaking). Due date #1 was November 27, and I remember not so long ago thinking I would just absolutely positively die if I wasn't pregnant again by then. In my mind, that would be the worst possible thing that could happen. Pffft. Way to go, dummy. See how much worse it could be? I remember imagining our families coming in for the long weekend, watching football and shoving our faces, all the while on alert for possible contractions or sudden rushes to the hospital. I wish life had a rewind/redo button. I want that Thanksgiving back. This Thanksgiving capital-S-sucks.

So I posted on the nest (my beloved and very supportive message board specifically for those going through a pregnancy loss) about feeling a bit down and angry about things today. I've got one fantastic friend on there, a sweet and witty east coaster in the midst of all kinds of adoption craziness who suffered multiple losses of her own. She's upbeat and encouraging and very good at making me feel more normal. I confessed that I'd made the mistake of venturing over to the pregnancy board where I tortured myself by viewing a post from a girl due right smack dab in the middle of April (aka, EDD #2) celebrating the news of her latest and greatest ultrasound and as a result, I had a total damn meltdown (happy for her, devastated for me). In my emotional freak-out I mentioned that while for the most part I'm getting by okay, sometimes there are these wild moments where I feel like I'm thisclose to retreating into a cozy bathrobe and spending my days talking to my cats. This lovely friend offered the following advice, which I deemed so humorous and comforting that it had to be rebroadcasted here for me to read over when I need a giggle (Jill, I hope that's okay): Mandie, You are right. It is not fair. I hate that you are going through this. I have fooled around looking at other boards and usually come away sobbing and mumbling to my stuffed animal (Dudley) the duck who wants to throw himself off the roof to escape my ramblings, but deep down he knows he can't fly. So talking to your cats really is not that crazy. Now, if you lose the bathrobe, and run down the street talking to say, shrubbery, we'll revisit crazy. You are just rightfully upset, grieving, and madder than hell.

Note to self: keep on the robe, don't talk to shrubbery. I think I can handle that. Sometimes just knowing there's a kindred soul out there murmering to her duck makes me feel a whole lot less lonely.

Thankful for: my recipe not flopping tonight, J's excitement over his new finance position, my wreath (yes- still), helping G with his e-harmony/future wife finder, time spent in the yard today with the fancy felines, 47 short hours until GFK touchdown

crafts+margs=monday

Why didn't anyone ever tell me there was a Pottery Barn alternative that would save me about a bajillion dollars AND make J believe that his lovely homemaking wife actually passed Home Ec? Check out my freakin' work of art:

A WREATH! And I MADE it! That masterpiece would have cost me $70+ at P'Barn. 15 minutes at Hobby Lobby, $7, and 10 minutes of assembly.... and presto! A fantastic fall wreath at 90% savings! Forget that it's 92 degrees outside and the neighbor kids are running through the sprinklers, at my house, it's FALL. Look at the calendar, folks. I'm a bit proud of myself, so much so that when I left the house after hanging The Wreath, I swung back around the block once more to check out that house with the bitchin' wreath, as I'm sure we'll soon be known as. I bet before long I've got neighbors lined up asking wherever did I get that beauty and where can they get their own. Just watch. (Or, back in the real world....someone steals it. Probably more likely over here a smidgit to the east of 35.) See, I'm on to the part of my grief where I channel all my misery into doing things. This afternoon, it came down to decorating or eating. As I'd really like to fit into this weekend's bridesmaid dress without investing in Spanx or going into anna mode, decorating seemed the better selection. And so cheap it's almost free decorating? Sheesh. I'm good. And totally not unaware of the fact that I'm attempting to forget that we should be finishing up an adorable primary colored airplane mural or some flowery pink border in what would have been the nursery by maniacally decking out the house for autumnal harvest. Blah. As much as I tried to stomp out that taunting little voice in the back of my head....it's there. And it's not chased away by any amount of shopping, decorating, eating, OR margarita drinking. Which leads me to......

Happier news: tonight, I had my very first friend-blind-date. L and I have been emailing back and forth for months about our respective crappola ripoff totally unfair miscarriages. Tonight, we met for margaritas (and a bit of food to soak up the margaritas). The boys were amused last night when I told them of my plans, smugly convinced my internet friend would either stand me up or be a bore, a loony, or a serial killer.....but little did they know, L is fabulous and lots of fun and very unlikely to kill me unless I try to take off with her fantastic (and verrry real) LV. Although the instigating factor of this new friendship pretty much sucks, I am happy to report she's right up there on the "coolest people I've met so far in Austin" list.

Thankful for: my wreath, if you've been paying any attention at all. A new friend. The Bachelor in all its' tasteless glory. The margarita in my belly. Mom's visit in two weeks. David Letterman.

el television

I'm embarassed on my own behalf. If a stranger were given the opportunity to examine my DVR settings, they'd conclude the user is about 14 years old, lacking anything resembling a social life, and tacky as hell. Exhibit A: The new Josh Schwartz (aka the genious who bettered the earth with my all time favorite.... The OC) show, Gossip Girl. One episode in, and I'm in lurve. There's the Seth Cohen-esque Dan, the Marissa-ish Serena, and her KiKi-clone mother, Serena's mom. It's like Josh realized how he'd broken my heart by allowing The OC to crash and burn in season 4 and bestowed this gift upon me. I feel at ease again, for one hour a week on CW, at least. Then there's The Hills. I can't get enough! Will Elodie tell off Heidi? Why are LC's brows so dark? What is UP with Audrina and that JustinBobby guy? And the lamest of the lame- Kid Nation. YES, the one with the kids. The 8-15 year old kids. Ugh, I'm so ashamed. But it's heartwarming! And my troubles don't stop there. Premier week has also rotted/will rot my brain with the following: The Bachelor (he's from Austin! it would be nearly illegal not to watch), Beauty and the Geek, Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders: Making the Team (for some odd reason J is totally okay with this one), the Sunday night double punch of Desperate Housewives AND Brothers & Sisters, the obligatory Gray's obsession, the new spin off with Addison, Friday Night Lights (excused- supporting the local economy), and finally, I'm holding out hope that the Trumpster will be back with another type-A packed dramafest Apprentice competition. It's like the tougher my life gets, the lower-brow my TV selections become. Escapism, people!

J's back from the neighbors' and speaking Spanglish. Someone's had a bit too much fun with Carlos and/or a few too many drinks. Buenos noches.