Sometimes You Just Fix It


There was a viral video that came out a couple of years ago in which a woman is complaining to her husband about a problem and was upset because he just kept trying to fix the problem instead of listening to her. It would cut to her husband intermittently, and he would exhaustively plead with her to simply fix the problem and that the solution was so obvious. In the middle of the video, we see that she has a nail stuck in her head, and her husband was trying to get her to stop complaining about the pain and simply remove the nail. They go on to argue about the situation and he finally gives in and “listens” to her talk about the problem some more.

Here, you can just watch it for yourself.

This is a bit sexist, pretty funny, and sadly, painfully true.

My husband is a pretty patient man. He has been there for me through now two pregnancies, two c-sections, and 4 ongoing attempts at child-rearing. It has not and is not pretty.

On Saturday, I had a meltdown that I wish I could blame on hormones, but it pretty much only stems from my own impatience and pettiness for my body to get “back to normal.” (2 weeks postpartum/post-op… seems reasonable, right?) Give me a break, feeling comfortable and somewhat attractive in clothes is a big deal! Anyway,  I was complaining that I didn’t have a lot to wear and that I was tired of looking this way and bah blah blah. I cried, you guys. Bryan sat patiently and waited for me to finish blubbering and then calmly responded:

“Ok, lets go get you a couple of things then.”

Like oh ok.

Why do I make things so difficult?

We drove the three minutes it takes to get to Old Navy where they happen to have been running a Mothers’ Day sale with BOGO free t-shirts and 20% off shorts (Which is what I needed the most). I was a happy camper. I feel 100% better knowing that I have a couple of things that actually fit me right now. Just whatever if they will be too big soon. You can take that logic and hit the road, sir. Alls I know is that I have crap to wear now.

Sometimes, the answer really is black and white. Sometimes, we need to shut up, stop talking about the problem, and just freaking fix it.

(Yes, Mom, I know you’ve been telling me this for years.)

Love, Alex



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Ok. I feel like maybe I am finally in a place to gather my feelings and share them without crying, saying something stupid, or yelling at my husband for zero reason at all. (Whatever. How DARE he put his jeans in the wrong laundry bag.)

The aftermath of having a baby sucks. Hard. I’m over it.

No one tells you that 3 months later your clothes still won’t fit, your marriage will be really really hard for a while, you will cry more than you’ve eve cried in your life, and that you will feel such bipolar emotions, at the same time, all day every day.

Oh my gosh this baby is the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“Oh my gosh my life is over!”

All of this is worth it for this precious baby boy.”

“I may never seep again!”

I’ve never ugly-cried to my husband so much in the history of the world. I’ve caught myself thinking back to when I just wanted so badly to impress this guy. After what he has seen of me, let’s hope that good impression has lasted him through.

Oh my what his eyes had just seen. (Sorry it's blurry, I obvi wasn't the picture-taker.)

Oh my what his eyes had just seen. (Sorry it’s blurry, I obvi wasn’t the picture-taker.)

I wish someone would have told me that I would only want to watch Psych because I couldn’t watch anything that made me feel things. Or that I would find myself saying “I’m sad today.” because there was just no other way to describe how I felt. I wish someone would have told me (and Bryan) that it would be a while before our needs would be met fully by each other. Most of all, I wish someone would have told me how long it would take to start feeling better.

It’s not that I expected to feel great immediately, but my for-real expectation was like two weeks to a month.

Lol no. Grady is 3 months old today and I am just now feeling like my head is above water. It’s all about survival. And the worst part is that next week will feel entirely different and I’ll probably come crashing down again. I can only hope that the memories of the good days will hold me through the bad ones. 

Three months later, I’ve graduated to reruns of Gilmore Girls. Maybe next week I’ll be ready for crime shows again. I also started triathlon training again. Nothing like having to get new workout clothes because my regular ones are too small. #Irony.

**Side Note: My family is doing a biggest loser competition! We are all going to beach in August, so we have until August 1st to lose the biggest percentile of our goal, lest we lose $50 instead. Cameron (my brother) doesn’t get to play and therefore is our moderator and if he is upset about it then he can just TAKE HIS SKINNINESS AND CRY HIMSELF A RIVER.**

Oh! And I made myself a chore chart because the house was driving my crazy. Plus organization and the charting of the chores was therapeutic, duh.

Isn't it pretty?

Isn’t it pretty?

So there you have it. All of my emotions and thoughts from the past 3 months word-vomited before you.

It feels good to do life again. Just don’t misplace any laundry around me and hopefully I can keep my cool a little longer.

Love, Alex