Carpool Line and The Pink Pickle

The carpool line got my Super Coop. Tears. Wailing. Screaming. Superhero like Houdini moves that landed him in the floor of the backseat reaching and hollaring for me.

I was all like "Gimme some sugar" and he was all "mama don't leave me, I wanna ride on the golf cart".

Left me shakin' my head.

I think it's probably because we've been at the beach.

I didn't want to get out of the car either to be honest. Or put my clothes on. Or do anything except play in the giant yellow submarine,

Or play with a tractor in the sand,

Or ride on a giant giraffe (I promise he insisted on the giant giraffe and loved every minute of it),

Or crawl up under the table and play with cars and choo choo trains,

Or have ice cream with Daddy,

Or splash in the pool all day long.

(It's a crying shame no one ever takes a picture of this child.)

Some people run off to the beach to find themselves. We run off to find good food.

But while we were there, Chris encouraged me to do something. I've been needing a hobby something fierce. Something to get my mind off of Ella Grace and this stinkin' fertility business. It's an awkward topic, I know it. And I'm sorry for mentioning it time and time again, but it's just where the good Lord's got us right now. The closer we get to Ella Bella's due date, the antsier I get. I've been out of whack. I've been preoccupied. I haven't been myself.

I did some soul searching over fried pickles and ice cream at the beach and asked what do I love oh so much that I could pour myself into?

Sweet tea, babies, and all things monogrammed. There it is.

We ordered a monogramming machine. I hem hawed around and around and Chris kept encouraging me and telling me to go for it. I've been sewing for years. And by "sewing", I mean hand stitching yards upon yards of fabric. Roomie/Floormie Abby will tell you, time and time again, she would come home and find me stitching away.  I've made curtains and duvet covers and pillow shams and monthaversary onesies and whatnot. Chris is never surprised when he comes home and I've restitched every thread of fabric in our house just because I want to. It takes me approximately 27 hours per pillow sham because I refuse to use a sewing machine. Everytime I order something monogrammed from Super Fly Emily (the absolute PRO at all things monogrammed) I squeal and shriek and tap dance around the kitchen.

Time to learn a new skill. Time to focus on something not Clomid related. I tap danced around the beach condo just thinking about thinking about something other than this baby makin' business.

I sat with my toes in the sand and dreamed up a shop name. I dreamed up monogrammed bloomers and onesies and burp cloths and john johns. I can't decide between "Pumpkin Doodle Designs",  "The Pink Pickle", or "Sugar Britches" (not to be confused with "Sugar Bear" on the only show that gives Desperate Housewives a run for it's money. Don't lie y'all. Everyone is bashing June and her June bugs when really, is HBB any worse than Snookie? Watch on. No shame.) I'm stuck between the Pink Pickle and Sugar Britches.

I sashayed right down to Hobby Lobby and signed myself up for some sewing classes. Gotta learn how to use this machine cause I hear you can't really monogram by hand. Psh.

When you see a post entitled "A monogramming machine got me pregnant", you'll know the sun was shining on this monogrammed tush.