I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned this, but one of the original names that I thought about naming this here blog was “On the Bright Side”. Which is actually kind of hilarious when you consider that Maggie and I talk about starting complaining.org at least once day.
I feel like maybe here’s where I point out that I chose “Princess Nebraska” not because of any weird princess fetish I’ve got going on – Although come to think of it I did wear a tiara to get married, so maybe I am not as fetish free as I profess, but whatever. That’s a whole other story involving bad fake nails and thousands of dollars worth of overpriced silk. I can’t claim I never shrieked “It’s the most important day of my life” and slapped a VISA card down on the counter, but if there’s anything the wedding industry and TLC is here to show us, it’s that a girl can sometimes get carried away at the MOST IMPORTANT TIME OF HER LIFE.
When I read this quote from The Little Princess:
“If I am a princess in rags and tatters, I can be a princess inside. If would be easy to be a princess if I were dressed in a cloth of gold, but it is a great deal more of a triumph to be one all the time when no one knows it.”
it spoke to me, somehow, as terrible as that sounds to say. We had just moved to Nebraska, and I knew nothing about it other than that I didn’t want to live there in the slightest, and I was horrified to find myself living somewhere I had never planned on stopping longer than twenty minutes just so that my husband could go to even more school. HORRIFIED.
But I decided that was a pointless way to live, to determine before I had even begun how something was going to go. And so I vowed to pack up my horror (for at least 50% of the time) and to make the best of things, and that’s when my blog and my blog name was born. At the beginning, right from the start, this space was meant to be about finding good even in the places where you least wanted to look. And I think we can all agree that maybe at times things have gotten off track, things have maybe have veered a bit more towards complaining.org. I am, after all, at heart, a natural born whiner, and it can be hard to snap out of that mold when you don’t feel good, or when you’re worried about money or fretting about toddler weight that doesn’t even track on a chart.
But dammit, I am here to try.
For example, I thought maybe I should tell you that I bought the absolute WORST nail polish remover ever, it’s absolutely terrible, doesn’t work at all, just smears sticky red nail polish all over, but of course, the bright side is that I even have nails, for goodness sake, and it’s actually kind of cool because it’s the one positive thing about pregnancy so far, these INSANELY long fingernails that just show up overnight. I mean, besides the BABY that will be here in like, six months ish. That’s the other positive, obvs.
I broke all my sewing machine needles three projects short of being done with Handmade Holidays! but that just means I can take a break and watch White Christmas without feeling guilty. I don’t have any kosher salt (even though I thought I did) so I can’t make the preserved lemons I was all ready to make, but the bright side there is that I am not really at all sure what in heckfire one does with a preserved lemon after one has preserved it. And while I am quite certain the answer has something to do with morrocan+food, my stomach is WAAAAY not ready to follow that google trail, so I’m just gonna assume that next year at this time my kebabs or what have you will be even more delicious than they are now.
My wireless internet broke, and I had to replace it in a month when an extra fifty dollars for a new wireless router just SUCKED to come up with, and then the instructions for making the damn thing work were so bad, but on the bright side, my sainted computer genius brother talked me through the whole thing for simply HOURS over the phone and now I have wireless internet again and I got to make fun of my brother every time he told me to “power cycle things down” when he just meant RESTART THE COMPUTER.
Also, I can’t eat anything! But I’ve been saving gobs of money on food, and that’s good, because then I can afford to get some more nail polish remover. Also, I just read an article in the New York Times about the increase in food stamp usage and seriously, if you ever need some kind of immediate attitude adjustment? I’d suggest reading an article about a dad who is working two jobs and who only decided to go on food stamps after he had to tell his hungry kids that there wasn’t any food. I mean, seriously, I’m over here whining about how Mr. E and I aren’t buying each other heaps of crap we don’t need this year for Christmas? Um, hi. We have FOOD, so I just really need to shut the hell up already. If I had to tell my kids there wasn’t any FOOD? I just cannot imagine, I cannot.
And Mr. E just came home from work and brought me a ROSE. Which more than makes up for the fact that every time I try to get Pants to take a bath, which he used to love with the passion of the angels, he freaks out and has a hysterical tantrum the likes of which the world has never known. I mean, seriously, I am worried the neighbors are going to call CPS or a priest, all because I had the gall to put my child in a TUB OF WARM SOAPY WATER. I have tried explaining to him that no one likes a stinky baby, especially at Christmas, but he remains unmoved. But again, bright side: at least I have WATER.
Plus I have composed a stunning lyrical ballad which consists of the words “No one likes a stinky baby” which is set to the tune of “Chestnuts Roasting On An Open Fire”. This is sure to begin sweeping the nation and will then be sung by Miley Cyrus at next years VMA’s, so obviously my millions are on their way. I am really looking forward to the gay boy spin off video hitting You Tube.
(Also, despite lyrics to the contrary, I totally do love my stinky baby, so there’s that.)
And besides, Jesus was born in a MANGER. That business can’t have smelled all that great, with the horses and the cows and the pigs and such? So maybe this bath strike business is just Eli’s way of really getting into the Christmas spirit.
Does this post even make sense? I doubt it. I think I’ll just go smell my rose and think about vomiting again.
Bright side: At least I have a STOMACH.
And now I’m gonna go power cycle some shit DOWN.
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