Saturday night I went to support a dear friend* at an art exhibit. I left feeling semi-nervous because I have mixed feelings about art exhibits. I fear having to stand there and wax poetic about art that I just plain don't like (stuff like a blank canvas with a tiny red dot in the center or equally ridiculous). But once I got there I was very happy to see that all the art in the room was wonderful. They were all expressive, beautiful and you could tell that a lot of love went into them. I wished I could purchase quite a few actually.
I also took it as an opportunity to do an outfit post, so here's a "What I Wore" for Saturday-
Dress, shoes, belt- Buffalo Exchange Fun Fact- My toenails have consistently been painted red for the last 3 or 4 years. I'm thinking of branching out to coral for the summer, and in the winter I mix it up with a deep, deep purple/plum.
*If you'd like to see some of the aforementioned friend's work you can see it here on his site- http://www.cannon7.com/
I've had my IUD out for a little over a week now and I must say- I feel AMAZING! Best thing I've done for myself in awhile. I feel I owe a great deal of thank you's to Rebecca Woolf who gave me the idea (she was also on Mirena and experiencing the same symptoms as me). And maybe I'll give myself a little credit for following my gut and not just convincing myself that I was merely blowing things out of proportion. Since getting Mirena removed the following has happened-
*I've had no mood swings. I'm PMSing right now as we speak and yet, no tears, no cursing of life, no husband wondering what he married, more patience all around.
*My sex drive is back with a vengence.
*My hair feels softer.
*I haven't been craving red meat like I was perpetually craving, which is awesome because I've been trying to stear clear of as much unnecessary meat as I can.
*I have more energy.
*Greg has even noticed the changes. This morning as he left for work he kissed me and said "happy to have you back." This was the one time I got semi-teary as I was equally as happy to have myself back as well.
Now, I've been trying to figure out what to do about this whole "now able to procreate" state I'm in. We've decided, very firmly so, that there will be no more babies until we're financially ready to care for two children without too much stress. But we still want to pretend we're making babies so we've reached that fork in the birth control road. I have a prescription for Yaz (or Yasmin, I'm not entirely sure) waiting for me at Walgreen's that I've yet to pick up because I've been rocking the shit out of my newfound stableness. I don't want anymore hormones, though I'm not quite ready to insert the Paragard IUD just yet (mostly because the pain of doing so REALLY blows). But something must be done, so I'll be starting my experiment of being back on the pill today. I feel like I'm 18 all over again.
I'm going to start a new segment (I know I say that often because I fear stagnancy, but I'm dead set on this one) on here that I've been meaning to to do for a long time be it on here or somewhere else, but here would be better. I love music. I live on music. I need it. And I have so many memories built around songs and albums that I love. So I'm kicking off my _________ and Me segment with the Pixies.
I remember the day I was introduced to the Pixies. I can still smell the chlorine in my hair, the juxtaposition of my dry skin (too much chlorine in a pool always drys me out) and my wet swimsuit still clinging to my body. I had just gotten out of my two hour swim practice and my body felt like air, a balloon only weighed down by a hunger built up from non-stop swimming. I walked out the Archer Center's swimming pool and opened the double doors to see the skaters from my school doing their own version of after school practice. Ollies and ill fated jumps off of a ten stair punctuated with cigarette/weed breaks. I knew all of them and chit chatted as I waited for my bus. One of their girlfriends went on to become one of my best friends. She let me read one of her poems/passages five minutes upon meeting her and I was smitten. We were inseparable from then on out. Sam and I, Graduation 2006
But that's for another day. The one skater that changed it all was Jorge. He was the most genuine of the lot, the most kind. We became fast friends during those before and after swim practices as I waited for the daily after school bus to take me back home where boys with raging hormones and ripped jeans were forbidden. Broken decks=broken hearts. But not Jorge. Jorge was the older brother I never had or knew I needed. He'd listen to me wax on about my lovelorn ways and he'd remind me after each story to not sweat it. To smile. To live on. And one day after a more brutal beating to my teenage heartstrings, he asked me a question- "have you heard of the Pixies?" "No, I don't think so." "Take this home," he said, as he handed me Doolittle. "Borrow it for as long as you want," He said, as I got on my bus.
I took out the Dashboard Confessional c.d. (not helpful for lovelorn teenagers) that had previously dominated my c.d. player and popped in Doolittle and settled into my seat at the back of the bus waiting for the first song.
"Got me a movie I want you to know Slicing up eyeballs I want you to know Girly so groovy I want you to know Don't know about you But I am un chien andalusia"
For the first time in a long time the corners of my mouth inched up to more than a smirk. It was crazy, it was nonsense, it was exactly what the doctor ordered. Music to push me out of my hoodie clad wallflower box. Music to shake me up, to get the blood flowing in places other than my heart (I had no problem with that on a daily basis, I was all heart and no guts). An exorcism of my angst. I listened to that c.d. all day on repeat all weekend. But before I gave it back I made my dad drive me to Borders to pick up my own copy. I didn't want to be without it. I haven't been since then. "Thank you so much for this," I said as I handed back the over loved disc to Jorge a few days later. "I'm glad you liked it." By my junior year I started changing, my music taste started changing, my clothes (partly because of Sam whose fashion eye is awesome, and I should really get her on here), my views, etc. But the Pixies still remained my solid foundation, the gospel I needed at the end of the day to free me up. I kept them faithfully within reach, and years later, as my stomach began to swell with baby ("hey/what do you know/your lovely, tan belly is starting to grow!"), people told me to play him classical music through headphones on my belly. I did, but he kicked and squirmed and wriggled around a lot more when I played "Where Is My Mind" for him. "That's my boy". Kick drum lover, bass line dancer. Since becoming a mother and moving up to an area where moms in vans reign supreme and I'm on the outskirts of the playground with matching mother-son Converse, I have left many of my friends downtown. Not to say we've forgotten about each other, but we're all in different places and we try and see each other when we can. So imagine my surprise when last Friday, out on the town at the burlesque show, I turned around and there was Jorge. I hadn't seen him since shortly after Jack was born. "OH MY GOD!!" I squealed. We hugged and laughed and I bought us rounds of gin and tonics and margaritas, tipped the bartender extra hard out of my jubilation, and we got to catching up. We talked about Jack and Greg and family life, about Mexico and the land he's been exploring as a ranch hand, about ex's (we ran in the same circle so I had dated his best friend, he had dated mine, we all remained distant friends, etc) and long lost friends and then I heard something that stopped me mid-sentence, something from the other section of the pub, something faint that grew louder, I knew I knew it and then it became clear.
It was too much. Too coincidental. Too nostalgic. Too amazingly awesome. We looked at each other and laughed. At life, at where it's lead us and how good everything was in that moment. "I'm in a good place," I said. "You showed me these guys and it changed my life." And just as quickly as the moment came it ended, like all good things do. We made plans to have a barbecue so he could see Jack and Greg again, and said goodbye over the sunrise. Yesterday, after I had had to much of motherhood (Jack tantruming all day) I took a drive out to the store to pick up some rum and pina colada mix (I was also missing Ixtapa a lot) among other things, though those two were of the utmost importance, and I breathed. I put Doolittle in my c.d. player and everything melted away, only this time I didn't feel so nostalgic for once, I just felt happy in the moment and I drove. And that is exactly what the Pixies will always mean to me.
The Martin household is still sick with whatever it is that's been on our backs for the last week+. Greg and Jack wake up hacking and grouchy and I wake up just plain grouchy because if you've ever dealt with a sick toddler while you yourself aren't feeling so hot, well, you know. You just know. That being said, those of you that know, could you send reinforcements? Are you getting this signal? S.O.S. Anyway, what has been coming out of their noses and lungs has been what has taken refuge in my dome piece and has now become a full fledged sinus infection. Every time I bend over or cough it's like a giant pressure/headache monster giving my head a hug. So there's that. Since my head feels like a beetle laid eggs in it, and not the good beetle, not like the Paul McCartney Beatle, I decided to interbrowse at my favorite stores and play little games like "If I had to decorate my house in only an aesthetic derived from The Life Aquatic, how would it look" and "What Would I Wear/Bring to Coachella", to distract my head from my own head. Here's some of the by-product (the husband thinks I'm losing my mind)-
"Decorate In A Life Aquatic Theme"*
* I chose The Life Aquatic because it could very well be an aesthetic Greg and I would use for our house (once we buy) one day. We both have a strong love for the movie, Murray and the colors seen throughout the movie- light and turquoise blues, yellows, oranges and corals, etc. I'd kill to have Wes Anderson decorate my house. A girl can dream as big as she wants damnit!
Greg doesn't like the couch, but I chose it for it's color and how much it reminded me of the movie. A doorknob
Among other things...
And in other news, I finally won the battle with The Pit. I'm tearing the sucker down at naptime since Jack no longer plays with it so much as he steals things I need (cell phone, toothbrush, car keys, etc) and throws them into it and since there's about 100 balls in there covering the aforementioned items up, I lose my mind trying to find them. And I may or may not have a celebratory drink over it's demise. You won the battle but you lost the war mofo! Moms always win. Period.
Friday night I went out to partake in one of my absolute favorite activities- a burlesque show! My love for burlesque has been longstanding starting in early high school when my former drama club geek self finally found her sexuality, mixed the two and grew visions of giant feather fans, shimmy belts and seamed stockings. In fact- Here we have me and my grandparents at my high school graduation where I was clad in a pencil skirt, corset (with a white button down underneath for the grandparents/parents/principal), red satin pumps and lame ass attempt at a victory roll with my bangs (they were too short).
Anyway it was something I missed very much so when I saw this I made plans to get gussied up and go out despite getting my IUD plucked from my person that same afternoon (not nearly as horrible as having one put in though, thank the lawd). There is just something absolutely magical about a burlesque show. You can feel the energy in the room, the excitement and watching the girls put out a piece of their imagination in such an awesome I-Am-Woman-Hear-Me-ROAR way is exhilarating. It reminded me why I still have a section in my closet it has touched and it rekindled the place in my heart that it changed.
What I Wore- I'm not to happy with this pic as the dress kept creeping up in the pic giving me a lumpy front. Ce'st la vie. Dress- Ross Shoes- Buffalo Exchange
Well, we're back from Mexico and currently going through post-vacation blues. When one goes from seven days of amazing food, endless pina coladas, 9-5:30 childcare for the taking, beach and overall relaxation to being thrust back into the real world which consisted of near missed flights due to overcrowding at the airport, a baby who got sick practically when you walked back through your door, errands, doctors appointments and impending jury duty...you get run on sentences. And sad. BUT! We still sit back at the end of the day and keep reminding ourselves to be thankful that we were even given the opportunity (Greg's parents took us) because it was much needed.
Here's some pics!
Day One. I wanted some quality time with my new headphones and the ocean. Paradise found. A baby sea snake sunning itself on the beach. Pretty unnerving to come across during a nice walk. And speaking of unnerving... There were iguanas roaming freely all over the resort. They're pretty much harmless but a huge lizard is kind of weird to come across regardless of where you're at. Unless of course you're at Jurassic Park. This particular one was sunning himself on a wall, unbeknownst to me, and as I was walking by he jumped off, landed almost right at my feet and scampered off. This picture was taken post-heart attack. Right outside our door. Ramblin' man. Jellyfish chandeliers that I fell in love with in one of the five dining areas (each had a different theme). The bar I visited for my nightcaps. My nightstand...almost nightly. A toddler "Green" parade. The resort had themes for each day, that days was "Green Day". Jack and an equally curly coiffed little lady. A covert picture taken of Jack and Panda during a daycare outing. Those teachers were so awesome. This was the first time we've ever left him with strangers for any period of time, but they made us feel really comfortable and we got to see him and his classmates around the resort doing activities throughout the day. I thought it would be a great primer for preschool. Mariachi at dusk. Jack was very much into it. A church in Zihuatanejo that I just really liked. I wanted to get pictures of the inside where there were tons of candles lit and beautiful tile work, but there were people praying so I decided against it. Pool time when we got sick of sand in EVERYTHING. We played a lot of Bocce Ball, and it turned out we were pretty good at it (we played against Greg's parents) so Greg and I took player pics. Here you have Greg "Ballzack" Martin vs. Amanda "Ball Bustin'" Martin. Yes, there were plenty of "ball" jokes. One of the many examples of how Greg and I gained about 5+lbs during this trip. Sometimes you can't escape toddler-tude...even in paradise. The medal around his neck was from an awards ceremony where he won "Doctor Dolittle" because "he loves animals and was kind to every one he encountered". Unfortunately that kindness is sometimes spared for his parents. Tequila shots. Mexico. The shots were actually in celebration of new found friends (we met on the plane ride and got to hanging out eventually at the resort, they're in the white) engagement. The bartender in the middle was so sweet, she toasted with us and it was just an all around awesome evening. Greg hates this picture because it properly displays our enchilada intake, but I threw it up here because it's the last picture of the trip and because our new friend Ben is in it. This guy was so fun to hang out with during the trip. He's a preschool teacher with a "Where The Wild Things Are" tattoo along his calf, a tattoo I thought was very perfect for a preschool teacher. He somehow persuaded me to go cove climbing...in flip flops (not an easy feat) and collected some coral that he gave to us before we parted ways. We miss him already.
And that's pretty much it! Now I'm off to tend to a child who has such a stockpile of snot he's taking on a Jabba The Hut appearance. Last night after a dose of children's Benadryl he decided to sit in his chair and would not budge even though he was nodding off- This is what happens when Benadryl and an unwillingness to reason collide.
