Beyond New Zealand

Tuesday, October 11, 2016

When You've Had Three Miscarriages...

When you've had three miscarriages, something happens to you; something deep down inside you dies.
When you've had three miscarriages, it becomes so painful to even look at a baby, let alone hold one, even when your family is having babies.
When you've had three miscarriages, it takes everything inside of you not to scream at someone when they ask the oh so insensitive question, "so when are you going to start trying?"
When you've had three miscarriages, you give up hope on ever having a "normal" family
When you've had three miscarriages, you learn that your body will probably not be able to have a "natural" pregnancy.
When you've had three miscarriages, you reevaluate your life choices.
When you've had three miscarriages, you quit teaching, because while there are so many things wrong with education, it just becomes too painful.
When you've had three miscarriages, you decided to pick up your entire life and move across the country.
When you've had three miscarriages, you decide to go to law school, because "why not, I don't have kids, and won't any time soon; the only reason I went into teaching was because it was practical for raising a family, and that's obviously not going to happen."
When you've had three miscarriages, you learn to rely on your spouse like you've never relied on him before.
When you've had three miscarriages, you learn to become happy now, not "when this happens... I'll be happy." No, you are happy now, because this, all of this, the good, bad and ugly, is your life.
When you've had three miscarriages, you get scared every time AF is late, because you just know your heart can't take another heartbreak.
When you've had three miscarriages, you wake your husband up at 2:00 in the morning to show him the positive pregnancy test with apprehension and fear and tears and a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, this is real.
When you've had three miscarriages, you call the first OB you can find in your new area, because, you already know the outcome, so it doesn't matter if you like him or not.
When you've had three miscarriages, you teeter on excitement and apprehension for the days and weeks leading up to your appointment.
When you've had three miscarriages, you don't have any expectations for the ultrasound.
When you've had three miscarriages, you're not sure what the technician is wanting you to see when she points to the screen and says, "do you see that?"
When you've had three miscarriages, the flickering heartbeat on the first ultrasound is one of the most amazing things you've ever seen in your life.
When you've had three miscarriages, you don't get overly excited at the news, that there is actually life inside you.
When you've had three miscarriages, you don't want to share the news, because of the constant fear that something can and probably will go wrong.
When you've had three miscarriages, you go into your second OB appointment with no expectations.
When you've had three miscarriages, you fear the length of time it is taking for the doctor to find the heartbeat.
When you've had three miscarriages, the sound of your baby's heartbeat is the most beautiful sound you've ever heard in your life.
When you've had three miscarriages, you don't want to tell anyone, for so many reasons. This life is so precious and exciting and we are actually able to revel in the joy that we finally get to feel when getting pregnant.
When you've had three miscarriages, your wardrobe becomes problematic, because you don't want anyone to know just yet, but your pants don't fit.
When you've had three miscarriages, you cry trying to get ready for church because you "look fat" in everything you try on.
When you've had three miscarriages, you cry trying to get ready for anything, because everything you put on makes you look pregnant, and no matter how hard your husband tries to soothe you and tell you it's okay, because, guess what, you are pregnant, it's not okay.
When you've had three miscarriages, you still attend law school, because that's what Heavenly Father is directing you to do.
When you've had three miscarriages, you have faith that Heavenly Father knows what he is doing, and faith in His timing.
When you've had three miscarriages, you wait to create that baby Pinterest board, because you deleted all the ones you've ever created previously, after every heartbreak experienced.
When you've had three miscarriages, there is a constant fear in your heart that something is going to go wrong; and every little symptom becomes a matter of Google consultation.
When you've had three miscarriages, you are in disbelief that you actually made it to the second trimester mark; your belly is growing and your body and your baby is healthy.
When you've had three miscarriages, you can't wait to go back to the doctor, just so you can hear the heartbeat, and be reassured, one more time, that everything is okay.
When you've had three miscarriages, you know that when you got in that car accident, you ruined your only chance at having a family.
When you've had three miscarriages, you become very vague about why you had to go to the hospital after your car accident.
When you've had three miscarriages, seeing your baby and its heartbeat after your car accident is the most amazing thing you have ever seen, and it doesn't matter how sore or battered you are when you realize your baby is HEALTHY and UNHARMED.
When you've had three miscarriages, a countdown to your anatomy scan is done with a little bit of apprehension mixed with a little bit of fear, mixed with some excitement.
When you've had three miscarriages, you decide to wait until you've had your anatomy ultrasound to share that you are finally having a healthy baby and you've never been more excited or scared in your life about what is about to happen in the impending months.

Thursday, March 10, 2016

Thrifty Nifty

Do you know what today is??? #thriftscorethursday! (I follow the blog refashionista.net who coined this catchy phrase, though she thrifts for finds that she can "fix" and while I keep that in the back of my mind when I'm looking, I have not bought anything for that purpose...yet) I figured I would write up a blog post on my recent thrifting, because lets be honest, I haven't blogged in a LONG time, and I miss it, and also, I'm pretty excited about some of my recent finds, or scores, if you would rather.

I know some people are not fond of secondhand shops, and some people loathe goodwill, but I grew up frequenting the thrift store for many of our basic needs, I even volunteered for a couple summers at the thrift store back in Durango (which was super nice, because I could see things as they came in and was able to get several things a lot cheaper than if they went out on the sales floor.) Don't get me wrong, there are some junky things that you will find thrift shopping, but there are some amazing finds as well.

I haven't frequented thrift stores as often in the past several years, because my husband and I both were working and I was able to splurge a little more (aka clearance racks at Maurices and Kohls). We have a set monthly "Tiffany clothing budget" because I do love clothes and shoes, and Chris, the tenderhearted man that he is, stopped trying to fight it after our first year of marriage, and allotted the budgetary "need" ;)

However with our recent changes in finances, I know that my current "Tiffany clothing budget" is more than we really should be spending. (For the record it REALLY is NOT that much, but every penny counts when you are watching your spending).

When I got my job at Target, I literally had one (1) red shirt and zero (0) khaki pants. I looked at Target, and even with my discount the ONLY khaki pants they had would still cost me $20+ and a plain red T-shirt $7. Goodwill has supplied me with 5-6 shirts and several khaki pants and I have spent no more than $30 on all of it. (I shopped for a few pieces before I knew about their $0.99 sale days)..

Our finances are not the only thing that has changed; my body has too. After the D&C a year ago my body didn't go back to the way it was before, I gained the baby weight, but didn't gain a baby... I had some terrible depression afterwards and I ~~didn't~~ had no desire to go shopping for new attire... I basically stuck to about 7 outfits that I rotated constantly. That being said, I really don't have a lot of clothes that fit me, and I am back to my old clothing loving Tiffany :)

Anyway, on one of my thrift store adventures, I asked an employee what their rotation is for the color of the week, she turned to me and said "Bring Your Own Giant Robot!" I stared at her in disbelief for a minute before she elaborated, "that's how I remember it, the first thing they taught me was Bring your own giant robot: blue, yellow, orange, green, red." She also explained to me that Sunday is when the colors switch over, Sunday and Wednesday are $0.99 color of the week sale days, and the first Saturday of every month is 50% off the entire store. So any of you that have a Middle Tennessee Goodwill in your backyard, you're welcome! Now you know.

So after that, I try to go to Goodwill on Wednesday's when I know they have their $0.99 sale on color of the week. I also try to ONLY look at color of the week tags, because I might just fall in love with an item that I have to have an internal debate about... Like there was this red pea coat I found, and it fit like a GLOVE. I have always wanted a red pea coat... the price tag $20... YIKES! I couldn't do it. (That's when I asked and found out about Wednesday and the color of the week). I seriously debated for close to an hour whether or not to just suck it up and get it.... It was a high quality brand, 100% wool, and I'm sure I would get my dollar per use out of it. (Tiffany's dollar per use philosophy, in case you don't already know about it: I have to use the item 1x for every dollar I spend; so if I buy $20 jeans, I have to be able to wear those jeans 20x to get my money's worth, etc.) I ended up walking away from it, and decided that if it was still there when the color came up, it was meant to be..... sadly, when I checked for it yesterday, it has been snatched up. Alas, not meant to be.

When looking I also try to make a mental note of items that I like and what color tag they have, 2 weeks ago (right after I learned about Giant Robots taking over goodwill) I found several pair of knee-length shorts, but they had orange tags. I made a mental note to come back in two weeks to see if any of them were still there, and by golly, I snagged 4 pair of knee-length shorts, for you guessed it, a whopping $4! If I bought them when I saw them two weeks ago, it would have cost me $18... which is still a pretty good price, but I wasn't in "love" with any of them, so buying them at $1 each makes it easier to wear because I didn't spend very much on them. (although, truth be told, I did find a pair of white knee-length shorts yesterday that I hadn't spotted on my previous trip that I LOVED and "had to have" but I lucked out and they were the right color tag!)

(Terrible cell phone quality photo, I will have to try to take some better pictures, probably of the pieces I am most excited about that I have found. You can also see three of the four pairs of shorts with the white pair on top. You can also see the ralph lauren shirt I found in the top right corner, as well as Midnight's butt to your left, because we all know she has to be in the thick of it all.)

However, on two trips I have spotted an item that was not the color of the week, and couldn't put back on the shelf. They (surprisingly?) were both Ann Taylor brand, and I know that they will be snagged up if I wait until the week their tag comes up.

(The top I spotted yesterday.... Again TERRIBLE cell phone quality, I promise this one really is a keeper, the photo does NOT do it justice in any way shape or form)

I try to limit myself to no more than $10 a trip, and that includes anything I buy, books, household, etc., and since learning about the sale rotations I try to only go in on Wednesday. Even if I went every week, and spent $10 each time, I would only spend $40/month and that is no where near my previous clothing budget. AND this $40 also includes things I find for Chris and for my nieces and nephews.

(last week: 6 items $6. This week 9 items, $12.50)

I have several pieces that I found that I am pretty excited about that I only spent $0.99 on... I have never been a "brand/label snob" but I recognize cheaper brands, and I recognize the more expensive brands. I also look at the condition of an item... There was a very cute under armor shirt I spotted yesterday, but it had several stains on the front, so I passed.

I don't know if it was how I was raised, but I have always loved the "hunt". I guess that's why I love clearance racks as well. I love scouring and finding a gem in the middle of a bunch of meh. I will try to take a few better photos in the next few days and share the finds with you soon.

Also, in the coming weeks I will blog about tearing down the old house, our move, and our new lives in Tennessee.... YIKES!

Tuesday, August 11, 2015

Why I Post

I have received a few mean-spirited messages recently about my Facebook activity. Now understand, I work with teenagers and I hear about these silly things all the time, but when people have attacked my character and my core because of my Facebook account, it kind of irritated me. It irritated me because of who sent me these messages; it irritated me because these people are allowed to say and do whatever they want (in whatever capacity they want, on and off screen); and it irritated me because while there are a lot of things I don't agree with the choices of these people, I still love and care about them and don't send them messages about what they're doing.

And these mean-spirited messages made me think about why I "post."

I understand that Facebook has changed a lot since I created my account almost 10 years ago (seriously, it's been around that long!) but, I still think the main reason it exists is to stay connected with people. I have friends who I personally like to keep tabs on and see all the cool things they're doing. I also have people in New Zealand who I befriended and without Facebook, would not know what is happening in their lives.

Why I post is really nobodies business and if they don't like it, then maybe we shouldn't be "friends" (how childish does that sound!?) (and to add, because of the nature of my work, no one can see anything I do on my social media accounts except those I allow in, so if you are my "friend" it's because I want you in my life and want you to know what's going on in our lives.)

I post, because as many of you know, Chris and I live no closer than 3 hours to our closest relative. Three hour drive to my Brother and his family. We also live a little isolated from other people in our area, so there are times where I don't talk to any body but Chris for a week or more. I post because I want people to see where we live and how we live. I post because we rarely have visitors and most people will never know what transformation our house has gone through.

Social media is a breeding ground for hatred and contempt and lies, and it can be extremely destructive. But it can also be a place to inspire, to share and to love. It can be a place where you can share your beliefs and your likes and your life. It is sometimes difficult to weed out the evil that is strewn across our screens every day, but I post because of the same reasons I joined Facebook to begin with, to connect with other people.

I post because I'm happy. I post because I'm sad. I post to know I'm not alone.

Wednesday, April 1, 2015

Rusty

Rusty: having lost agility or alertness; out of practice.

I am rusty. Somewhere in the midst of crazy life happenings, I let myself go.

I remember when I was in college and I was writing on a consistent basis; I had dreams of becoming an author and teaching on the side. I loved creating a masterpiece of words splattered onto my paper in perfect combination and form.

I remember when I could run a 5 mile race without difficulty.

I remember going to friend’s houses and bringing them cookie dough because they had a rough day, or bringing them ice cream, just because. I remember making plans and keeping them.

Now, I’m rusty. I miss writing, but it doesn’t come easily any more. I’m afraid I have nothing to say, and I have everything to say.

I’m rusty. Running a mile is difficult. My body jiggles and wiggles and can’t carry me as far as it once did.

I’m rusty. Reading became so laborious and taxing in college and in my “career” that reading for “fun” became a thing of the past. I rarely read for pleasure anymore, though, in the last few months I have tried to make myself read at least one (1) non-work-related literature source a month, and I have, and I’ve enjoyed it; I’ve missed it; but it’s not as easy as it once was.

I’m rusty. My relationships and friendships I’ve created and made over the years have fizzled out. I mean I follow you on Facebook and Instagram and check to see what you’re up to, but if you really think about it, we’re not really friends. I don’t make an effort to call or to email or to really check up on you and see how you’re doing.

I’m rusty. I used to have clear cut goals for my life. I knew what I wanted out of life; I knew where I was going and what I was doing. Now, every morning I look in the mirror, give myself a pep-talk and ~~walk~~ race out the door. I don’t know what I want out of life anymore. Ever since I was a little girl, literally 6 years old, I can remember telling everyone I was going to be a teacher. I have always wanted to be a teacher, and I worked hard at achieving that goal, and I am. I am a teacher, and I hate it. Don’t get me wrong, I love literature and I love my students and I love the relationships and bonds I make with students, but the profession of teaching? Hate it, and I hate that I hate it. There are so many things outside of the classroom that make it very difficult to enjoy. Don’t get me wrong, I love Fort Morgan High School; I have the best administration and some really great kids; the support system is wonderful; and there is some really good teaching happening in the classrooms. But I guess it’s more of a… I don’t know… disappointment? I worked towards my goal of going to college and getting my teaching degree for so long that it was the only thing I focused on, that I lost sight of who I am and what I need. So I’ve become rusty.

How to clean rust?

When I typed in the above question, how fitting that one of the answers was time to get tough. It is time to get tough.

I’m starting to write again. Yes, it’s on here, this poor neglected blog of mine, that’s lucky to reach 30 people, but I’m writing.

I’m starting to run again. Yes, it’s a struggle to even go a mile. Yes, I’m huffing and puffing and jiggly-wiggly, but I’m going out and trying. I’m sore as can be the next day, but the next day I do it again. Soon my rusty body will not feel the pain it currently feels from so many years of neglect.

I’m exploring my options. It’s a tough decision, but after many conversations with Christopher and my hour and a half a day in the car alone to think, I am 90% sure that this year will be my last year teaching. It’s bittersweet. I have a lot of emotions about it. I’m not entirely sure what will become of me or what I will do, but I can’t keep doing what I’m doing. It’s not fair to me, to my students or to my family (aka Chris).

I’m getting tough. I know it’s not going to be perfect overnight, but I’m getting tough.

Tuesday, March 31, 2015

Happy Go Lucky

Happy. This has never been a word that I would choose to describe me, my personality or anything to do with who I am. I know that sounds bad, but you know when you are in a new group setting and having to introduce yourself and choose just three words to describe yourself, happy has never been anywhere near to a word I would choose. I can think of people in my life that I would label as happy and I can remember thinking how strange it must be to be happy all the time.

Cynical and creative are always words that would be used to describe the person who Tiffany is. She has always been and always will be. In the last four or five years, cranky might actually be added to that description list, and I’m okay with that. I’m okay with who I am and I’ve come to terms with who and what I am and what I’m not.

Until…

About a month ago (after my miscarriage/d&c if you recall) I was sitting in Exam Room 2, waiting for Dr. A to come back from a surgery for my post op appointment. They weren’t sure how much longer he was going to be, so I was fully dressed and texting Chris when I heard his voice outside the room and him barge into the room. He began making small talk about what I don’t recall the details at this point, but something he said that day has stuck in my brain ever since: Tiffany, you’re always so happy! Me: is that a bad thing? Dr. A: no, it’s a great trait to have. You have such a positive outlook on life and are always cheery and happy.

When I got home, I told Chris what Dr. A said, he laughed and said he must not know you very well. This upset me, but was true.

This happened almost a month ago, but it was such a profound moment for me. Like I said, and like anyone who has ever known me will probably say, happy and cheery are not words that describe who I am. But why can’t they? This is the big eye opener for me: Why can’t these words describe me?

I am not a happy person, but I can be. I look at my life and I have a pretty wonderful life. I think of my marriage and I almost always tear up because it is beyond any relationship family I ever could have dreamed up for myself and it makes me happy.

So I resolved, and I have to resolve every day that I get out of bed and deal with other people, to be happy. I want to be known for being that person who always had a smile, who always was genuinely happy. There are days where I am not happy and days where I am cranky and snap at Chris or my students, but I’m getting so much better at being happy and I can feel it. And those days where I am cranky or snappy or just downright unhappy I just have to try better the next day and the day after that.

I think about my life, which is a pretty great life, might I add, and I have no reason to be unhappy. I have trials just like everyone else, and there have been some really crummy things that have happened to me and Chris in the last year, but I have to remember what I want to be and accomplish in life. Yes, it would be very easy to be angry and upset especially considering our circumstances of what happened, but then I remember what I want more. I want to be happy, and being upset/cynical/angry doesn’t hurt anyone but me and my relationships with my husband, my family and my Heavenly Father.

So this is my resolve: To be happy; To smile through the tears; To be that person that is cheery and happy and makes you want to be too (you know those people who are like this, and this isn't going to happen overnight for dear ol' Tiffany though, so be patient.) To remember that my trials aren't the end of the world, and I always, always, always have something to be grateful for and happy about.

Wednesday, February 18, 2015

Third Time's NOT a charm...

I feel like I’ve let my poor little neglected blog die, it’s been so long since I’ve written anything for myself, and I have a million reasons why I haven’t, but the truth is it doesn’t matter, because I haven’t, and nothing I do today is going to change that.

I feel like I have so many thoughts in my mind that I am trying to sort out, which I am not good at doing in my head, so I need to write. I need to bleed out my heart and soul so maybe; just maybe, I can have some peace again.

In late October, Chris and I experienced our second miscarriage. I knew it wasn’t going to be a successful pregnancy, because I just had a feeling. We didn’t go to the doctor, and we had a miscarriage at home, dealing with all that comes with that.

After this miscarriage, I knew I couldn’t keep teaching in Brush. I am not going to go into detail about Brush here on my adventure blog, but there was so much happening in our school and district that were against my moral compass, and I really struggled with how much stress I was under, so having that second miscarriage I realized I couldn’t do it anymore. I resigned. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but it wasn’t going to be working there. Leaving Brush was not pretty. Administration retaliated and made life pretty miserable for me and Chris and I have never felt so betrayed in my life.

But as awful as administration was to me in Brush, I had never felt better. I was relieved to be done with that school and district. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen in our lives, but I hadn’t felt surer of a decision in my life. In fact, a week after I was no longer working in Brush, I was offered another job, and I got pregnant again. We were so excited when we found out in December that I was pregnant, and I was feeling “normal” pregnancy symptoms which was such a relief after everything we have been through in the last year or so with my first miscarriage. What an exciting time for us and what an amazing year 2015 was going to be.

Because I started a new job, I didn’t have insurance for the month of January, so while I should have had my first prenatal exam in mid-January, we had to postpone it until February when I would have insurance again. I tell you what; February 2^nd could not come soon enough! Chris even had a countdown going… “only ___ more days until baby day!”

We had an ultrasound appointment first, and I knew as she kept trying to find an ovary that I was having a dejavu of last year. I could see that there was nothing on the screen, and when she went to go get the doctor I looked at Chris and we both knew: a third miscarriage. The doctor came in, and made her look at the uterus and sac, looking for signs of a molar pregnancy using simple enough words for me to understand, but now cannot remember what was said (I only remember that Dr. A grabbed/held my foot and I thought it extremely strange and slightly awkward, but how do you say hey dude, I know you’ve been up my junk, but could you please not touch me? That’d be great, thanks. Yea, you just can’t say it.)

After getting into an exam room, Dr. A said it didn’t look like another molar pregnancy and everything looked to be pointing to a “normal” miscarriage and that our best option (after reviewing all the options) would be for “nature to take its course.” I was surprised at myself when I was able to speak with such conviction, “that’s what we did last time, and I’m not willing to do that again, so I want to schedule a D&C.” I think I took Dr. A by surprise too, because it took him a minute to respond. He agreed to schedule the D&C the following Friday but we were going to do a 48 hour blood test and have an appointment the following Monday to go over everything, have another ultra sound to make sure nothing had changed, blah, blah, blah, do you want us to call you with the blood results? {No.} We’ll call you once we schedule the surgery blah, blah, blah, hang on a second and…. I was so excited when I saw you were coming in, this is just so sad, blah, blah, blah.

I looked at Chris, stoic as ever, and grabbed his hand as tears stung the corners of my eyes. Why are they not letting us leave? I just want to get out of here. He squeezed my hand and smiled; everything is going to be alright.

We finally got out of the office and got blood drawn. Two days later, another draw. Thursday, I got a call from a number I didn’t recognize, and I was compelled to answer. “Hi Tiffany, this is Kathleen, Dr. A would like to speak with you, do you have a minute?” “uh, yeah.” “okay, here he is… Hi Tiffany, it’s Dr. A, so we have a problem with your blood results… blah blah blah, I don’t feel comfortable waiting to do your d&c, we need to do it now…” My head started spinning. This was not the same Dr. A from Monday who thought everything was fine. This was the urgent Dr. A from last year when we found out about the molar pregnancy. Tears started streaming down my face and I grabbed my stuff and ran, locking myself in my classroom. I can’t do this again. I called Chris, unable to get out very many intelligible words.

Friday was a blur of more appointments and more blood draws and more questions to answer. The only thing I remember was in my appointment with Dr. A on Friday, he looked at me and said “You are such a remarkable woman; I feel privileged to be your doctor.” I think I remember it, because it is the first time someone has ever called me a woman without young in front of it, and I was slightly offended and felt kind of old.

I am so overwhelmed. For some reason this time has been harder than before. I have spent my entire commute some mornings bawling because of how unfair I feel this situation is. Why did Heavenly Father let the girl who was visibly about 7-8 months pregnant I saw smoking a joint outside of Taco Johns get to have a baby and I can’t? Why do people who can’t even take care of themselves let alone a baby get to have one? Why… Why… why!!??!!?? I have so many questions and no answers. Why were my numbers so high? Why was there such urgency in Dr. A’s voice on that phone call? Emotionally I have been a wreck, and last time, I remember feeling so much better and clearer and happy in every way, but this time I still do not feel like myself. I feel… heavy, I guess is the best way to describe it.

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

It's Working!

I figure I should update on my summer of love project now that we are already a month in (tear! a month of my summer is already gone!) and all I have to say is: it's working!

I feel so much better than I have all year. A few highlights: I have lost 10 lbs! Now, understand, with how much weight I gained, which was considerable, it definitely does not look like I have lost 10 lbs, but my scale has definitely come down, and I feel it in my running.

My running isn't as far along as I would have hoped, but my endurance is so much better. When I started out, I really couldn't go very far, and I can now go triple what I started out at. (Sorry for the ending in double prepositions, but alas, what can I say, I'm on summer break, at least you get my acknowledgement that I know I shouldn't do it.) I run on the back road behind our house, which is nice, because I can bring the dogs, but it sucks, because the weeds are thick and it's difficult to run in. Especially with the distance I am wanting to accomplish, I am going to have to find another place. I have a cheap elliptical we bought this winter, but I truly prefer running outside, so a solution is definitely being sought out.

My house is coming along. My in-laws were here for a few days, and they helped with some things on the house (they are seriously great that way, even when I say not to worry about any projects, they always find something to help us out with) Chris built some miniature white picket fences (I've always been in love with white picket fences) to go around my flowers in the front of the house, because we found out that I'm not the only one who loves flowers, Ace does too. So much in fact that he chews on my rose bushes and digs up my plants. So Chris designed and measured and made these cute little fences for me so I could have some flowers.

And now for a photo update:

Chris's (27th!) birthday: celebrating my love

Midnight, in a box, because she's the cutest, seriously, ever.

Love! He is so good with them!

Namara and her egg.

Piglets? I felt like a super cool aunt this day.

We did some updating in the kitchen. I seriously need to do a post just on our house to show the before and afters so far. Seriously drastic differences!