100th Post, How To Have A Not-So-Very Good Day

Wow! Here I am...100 posts from the start of my blog! That snuck up on me rather unexpectedly.

I feel like I should blow on one of those party favors that curl up, or maybe dance a little jig or something.

Because aside from my story writing and my chronic scrapbooking addiction hobby of scrapbooking, I think this is the longest I've ever stayed committed to one project in my life!

I've got a few tubs in my garage that testify to my propensity for not finishing every project I've ever begun. Quilt blocks of various types and sizes. Crocheted afghan blocks in colors I'd never use for anything now. Embroidery projects from back in the days when the crafts of Jane Austen's time seemed so dainty and feminine, but instead turned out to be horribly, wretchedly frustrating with knots all over the back, and dare I mention the 'homemade' Cabbage Patch Doll-from-a-pattern sewing project I begged my grandma for as a 7th grader, which has sat in storage so long that the pins holding the cut out pieces together are rusty.

But this...this I've managed to stick with. It's something I can be proud of, because for the most part, I've been pretty regular about it.

Why? Because it's a fun, creative outlet, and I've met a lot of fantastic new bloggy friends. Friends that, while I don't see them in my day-to-day life, are still very real people who have been a very real blessing in my life by way of laughter, encouragement, and just plain being real with each other. Thanks to each and every one of you for making this last 100 posts so memorable.

But, because blogging has taken over far too much time in my life, and because all good things must come to an end, I'm going to be closing up shop. Calling it quits.

JUST KIDDING!

Just thought I'd throw that one in to see if you were all paying attention. ;o)

I'm not quitting blogging, people...seriously. I just wasn't sure what else to do to mark the big "100th Posting" in a memorable way.

Seems like everyone else does these great, creative lists of 100 things...but I'm afraid that this crept up on me at such a time as to render that possibility not an option.

Well, that and the fact that it's 2 am.

And I'm still up. Even though I was up all night Friday and well into Saturday morning with the Lock-In with our youth group at our church.

I might add that taking two naps in one day wasn't a very good idea, because even though I only slept a total of 5 hours in those two naps, it feels like twice that right now, but about halfway through church in a few hours, it's going to all catch up to me.

Which leads me to the second portion of my posting.

NOTE TO SELF:

Never, ever even think about attending a baby shower after having had only three hours of sleep in a 24 hour period.

Especially after an all night lock-in with 17 teenagers in a fellowship hall that though it is a long, large room, felt like it was about 10x14 once all the rocking chairs and tables with game systems and such were set up in there.

Especially with the noise of said game systems.

All. Night. Long.

While PMSing.

Because even though the baby shower was for the not-yet-born child of one of the nephews you babysat for four years, and that in addition to the regular gift, you had managed to hang onto a hand-me-down coat that he'd worn as a tot, which had passed through the ranks to your older son in good condition, and you planned to pass that along to Nephew's son as a fun, sentimental sort of gift you would have enjoyed both giving or receiving...

And even though you woke, showered, and managed to pull yourself together after only 3 hours of sleep (from the first nap) after the all-nighter...

...you would drop all the carefully wrapped presents on the beauty bark beside the car while fishing for your keys because you were in a mad rush to get to said shower, and the tape connecting the smaller items to the large one would come off of some of them, marring your wrapping job.

Then, once you managed to get them into the car in the only available space not occupied by stuff yet-to-be-unloaded after the all-nighter...

And though you had directions in hand, and plenty of time to get there when you left home...

...you would get a mile down the road, and the car would begin having issues.

As in cutting out and coasting out into an intersection at an odd angle due to lack of power steering when the motor was off, having rolled to a stop utterly and completely dead in the turn lane.

And several attempts at trying to restart the car would prove fruitless, as said car would turn over but not fire up.

Then you would fear you'd flooded the whatever-it-is that gets flooded when you push on the gas pedal in your frustration.

And so your husband would have to be woken from his much needed nap (after a hectic morning of his own in which the parents that should have been there to pick up their kids by 8 am did not arrive until 10, and then one of the rocking chairs that was to be delivered to the person who lent it fell out of our truck onto the road and broke) to come and rescue you, leaving the kids at home alone, because the one carseat we have is in the car I'm stranded in. Anc clearly, to have them involved in a traffic rescue operation was more dangerous than staying asleep in their beds, since your toddler has already learned to open car doors opposite where you're standing and take off running into parking lots before you can get around the vehicle because he's like Dash from The Incredibles.

And your husband would get in the car and start it up no problem on the first try, even though you did all the same things he did and nothing happened, and you'd feel horrible for getting him out of bed for nothing, and worried about the kids.

And you would begin to feel greatly stressed, because by now, you're already going to be late for the shower which is 15 minutes away in good traffic.

And naturally traffic would be horrible because it's Saturday.

And you would inadvertenly run a red light on the way there, and would cry for not having seen it, leaving streaks in your makeup.

Which would necessitate a side of the road stop to touch things up.

And I would finally arrive in the general vicinity of the home of the baby shower, only to learn it's in a gated community, which you weren't apprised of in the directions.

And then you'd learn you were at the wrong gate.

Which would mean putting in a frustrated, frantic call to my SIL (already at the shower) that it was the wrong gate, and how do I find the right one?

And then I'd drive all the way around the expansive housing development to finally find the right gate.

And then I'd have to give the secret password to the security officer, "I'm going to a baby shower".

Except that he asks for which street the baby shower is on, and I have no earthly idea. I look over my directions and in frustration finally spot the street name.

He lets me in, but doesn't tell me which direction to go because there is a line behind me waiting to get in. And so with tears of frustration threatening, I drive blindly through this ridiculously laid out gated community trying to find the home.

Except that all my directions were apparently from the other gate, and my brain just doesn't have the mental capacity to figure this out from the opposite direction on 3 measely hours of sleep.

So I'm winging it through the housing development where security Golf Carts were abundant, and I'm feeling like an intruder...

...and end up at a dead-end road with a locked gate...

...where there was a curbed, landscaped median in the center of the road all the way to the gate, and therefore no way to turn around my car which is continuing to have the same strange phantom problems as earlier.

So I am forced to back up for an entire block, and through frustrated tears nearly back over the median, and I'm wishing I never even bothered to set out for the shower.

And then I turn down the first street I find, and Lo, the home I was to look for was right there.

And then after finding a place to park a block away, I gather up my gifts, and head inside. And I wait on the porch for another SIL and neice who arrived after me, because I hate not having someone to attend such events with.

And I go inside the garage where everyone is already assembled, and am directed by the host to the gift table across the crowded room, and after handing off the gifts to my nephew, the father-to-be, learn that nobody has saved a seat for me, but the SIL and her daughter that came in after me managed to find a spot beside the rest of the family.

And so I'm across the room feeling like an outcast, or at the very least, the new kid in school, and hopelessly PMS-y, with tears close to the surface after the whole ordeal of getting there.

And my feelings are hurt because the two people in the family I'd asked about carpooling over there with were already there, calm as you please, having both avoided my inquiries about carpooling, which I guessed was because they'd already had a car-load to take over.

Which at the moment felt like a slight against me because it seems that as the one SIL in the area, I'm always the afterthought, with all the rest of the ladies in the family always pairing or grouping up for such events, but never seeming to have room left in cars because it's a big family.

And it all feels huge to me (though a tad blown out of proportion)...because, well, all of the above.

And then I glance at my cell phone to learn I'm 39 minutes late. And it appears that they may have held things off waiting on stragglers like me, which is infuriating, because I set out with plenty of time to get there, and am rarely late anywhere.

Right then my husband calls to make sure I got there in one piece.

And I fall apart.

And can't pull myself back together because I'm so incredibly sleep-deprived.

And I make a complete and utter spectacle of myself while trying to make a quiet, gracious exit, knowing I won't make good company in my condition.

Except that I'm stopped twice on the way out, forced to explain myself in my teary, frustrated, hurt-feeling condition, when all I want to do is get back in my bed and pull the covers over my head for the next 10 hours and forget I ever bothered to leave my house to begin with.

And so I go home, bawling my eyes out the entire way.

And when I arrive, I try to formulate my feelings, but am a blubbery mess.

And I try to sleep, but only manage an intermittent couple of hours, because I keep rehashing the entire thing and kicking myself repeatedly for it all.

And now, here I sit, completely wired. Unable to sleep, but needing it desperately, and thinking that maybe I shouldn't even be blogging in this sleep deprived condition...

...okay, I'm going to bed now. I just need to tuck myself back in until I'm feeling a little more human again.

Good night.